When I saw myself in the mirror and thought I could stand to lose a few pounds, I figured I must have a problem with overeating. How could I be this big if I eat healthy? I thought. When I began to restrict, I thought I merely had a problem with eating too much food and I wanted to “punish” myself, or my body, for wanting too much food all the time.
That’s also why I thought I never had an eating disorder–I figured I just had to restrict because I was “messed up.” I remember asking my mom to get my thyroid checked months into my restriction to see if I needed thyroid pills to fix what I thought was a slow metabolism. I thought I wasn’t losing weight, that I was doomed to be big and hungry forever. I also thought that the sluggishness and depression I felt was due to an under-active thyroid–ironically it was actually because I was drastically restricting my food intake.
Running As Distraction
Running seems to keep me sane, even though it was also a main motivator behind wanting to lose weight, too. Running kept me doing just that–running away from the problem. When I suddenly had to deal with the knee injury in the fall of 2011 I could no longer run off my hunger, could no longer pretend nothing was wrong with my eating habits. Without running I binged in sadness and despair. I had a deep yearning to fill up completely, too. After restricting for so long I couldn’t wait to finally eat until I was full. But I had become so confused with hunger and fullness that I often went passed the fullness point and ate the wrong foods–especially the foods I had restricted for so long. Without specifically realizing what I was dealing with, in a way I had come to realize that running was removed so that I could face the eating disorder in all its ugly glory.
It was the scariest, most difficult challenge of my life thus far; mostly because it was a challenge I couldn’t name and a challenge I felt I could not speak about. I felt alone in this world of calories and fear and embarrassment. I didn’t want to be obsessed with it, yet I knew I was. I knew I was ashamed of my weight and I hated to admit it. I hated to feel different from everyone at the dinner table. Even as I kept my restriction a secret, I hated going out to eat because there was no way I could try to visibly restrict. It was embarrassing to have people know that I restricted myself.
Fear of Discovery
I remember a relative commented on a photo on Facebook, jokingly saying, “Wow, a Steil who doesn’t eat!” Even though I knew I had been restricting food, it was like a punch in the stomach. No. No, I don’t want people to think or know that I do this. I cried and called my mom on the phone, embarrassed and ashamed. Of course she didn’t know my secret but she was able to write a few comments on there to defend my position: “Rachael eats more than you will believe!” she said. I even encouraged a friend to join in on the comments. I was at peace again. But it only buried the secret deeper.
As I read my past journal entries I realize how far I have come, and I am thankful for what I’ve learned. At my heaviest weight I can honestly say I feel more secure and mature than I felt at my lowest. Unfortunately, it seems that you have to experience the whole journey before it really makes sense, because anytime I heard this from others I felt like rolling my eyes. How could you honestly feel better at a heavier weight?
I want so badly to prevent this from happening to others, to tell them it’s not worth it, that the restriction and rules and extreme discipline only makes things more confusing. Just as my coach always says to “just race” and not think about time, all I can advise is to “just live” and not think about calories. Easier said than done, of course.
But it can be done.