She walks past my desk with a bounce in her step and apple
in hand. Without question, she takes a bite and the sound of her teeth sinking
into the juicy core vibrates throughout my whole body. It’s effortless for her
and I wonder what that’s like: to eat a piece of food without an exhausting and
emotional internal dialogue. She types, she bites, she chews, she swallows.
Over and over again without hesitation. I feel something welling in the pit of
my stomach. Is it shame? Confusion? Perhaps…hunger? The presence grows and
spreads to my fingers, my toes, and every other piece of me that gets taken
over by this demon. It takes a moment of silent turmoil for me to realize that
its anger. I am angry. And once I realize, it swells and it’s overwhelming. I never
thought I would be angry over food and the ability of someone to eat it without
thinking. There was a time that eating didn’t come with a negative connotation
for me. I looked forward to it, in fact. Family dinners, summer ice cream with
friends, and pasta parties before the big game were what I lived for. Food was
a celebration and a connection. It was fuel for me to be the competitive
athlete I was proud to be. I was simply just an inevitable and simple part of
life. But somewhere along the lines, food become something I avoided; I would
even use the word “feared” in some cases. Through struggling with an eating
disorder, I realized that my behaviors weren’t the most dramatic things to
change, but my thinking was. My cognitions went from normal to questionable to
completely disordered in what seemed like an incredibly short amount of time.
Where spontaneity was what I yearned for, I couldn’t eat a bite without
planning, calculating, and stressing. Now after what seems like a lengthy
attempt at recovery, I see that once again, it’s my cognitions that continue to
try to hold me captive. Where I am now compared to where I was when I was first
diagnosed with my eating disorder are two (thankfully) completely different
places. My behaviors themselves would be considered under control but sometimes
I realize those thoughts creep back in and try to run amuck in my brain. I can eat that apple. I can take that bite
and eat the whole damn thing. I can even enjoy it. But sometimes I’ll catch
myself thinking things like “do I really need the apple?” “Am I truly hungry?”
“Do I deserve it?” Those are the times I find myself having to fight a little
harder. To my recovery warriors: keep fighting. The body heals quicker than the
mind, but you will be whole again. Actions speak louder than words but thoughts
can make all the difference.
