Abby P.
Photography by Julia Thompson
Dear Reader,
Abby’s letter includes her personal experiences of an eating disorder, panic attacks, depression, and anxiety. We advise those who may be triggered by these topics to exercise caution when reading this letter.
Sincerely, The IfYoureReadingThis Team
If you’re reading this, keep showing up for your future self.
My name is Abby Pallant, I am 22 years old, and I have anxiety, depression, panic disorder, and a history of eating disorders.
Three years ago, I thought my mental health diagnosis defined me. It took me years to realize that none of that truly matters. It took me a while to be able to talk about these diagnoses, let alone believe them. All that ran through my head were the definitions I was told and read online.
Pounding or racing heartbeat, sweating, trembling, or shaking. Persistent sadness and a lack of interest in previously enjoyed activities. Abnormal or disturbed eating habits, and preoccupation with food, body weight, and shape.
I got diagnosed with panic disorder, anxiety, and depression in September 2021, however, I had been having panic attacks for years, just without knowing what they were. My first panic attack was at a LANY concert when I was 16. I was sober, with my best friends, but I can’t remember much else because I dissociated. I thought these feelings were normal and that everyone felt this way. I thought trembling on the floor of a concert venue covering my ears while crying was normal.
I bullied myself for years. I called myself weak, dramatic, and broken. For my entire sophomore year of college, I rarely left my room all because I let the fear of my panic attacks take over and win. I would find myself shaking on the bathroom floors in lecture halls, crying and shaking at the state fair, cutting people out of my life and loathing in self-pity. I had to reach rock bottom to know it was up to me to take care of myself and get help.
It was the same process as my eating disorder. I had dieted throughout ages 17-21. I went from Weight Watchers meeting weekly, to keto, to intermediate fasting, to no carbs, to purging and skipping meals. I weighed myself constantly, going to the gym 2+ times a day. I was treating my body with little to no respect. And worst of all, I thought it was for the best. I was so concerned about being as “small” as I could get. I had danced for 18 years when I finally had to give it up because I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror without having a panic attack. I missed social activities because I was ashamed. I was either wearing clothes that were too small because I couldn't fathom buying clothes in a bigger size, or I was wearing baggy clothes to hide my body.
It became a toxic cycle of not eating, bullying myself, and having panic attacks because I never felt “good enough.”
Three years later I am still on medication, I still have therapy and dietitian appointments once a week, I still have panic attacks, and I still have hard days. I still haven't put on a bathing suit or gone swimming since I got diagnosed and entered recovery. I still don’t look at my weight when I go to the doctor, and I still find myself hating the way I look.
However, one thing that has changed is the amount of grace I award myself. I let myself have the bad days, I let myself cry, but I pick myself back up again. I think of taking medication as taking a vitamin C pill. I'm just a little low on something. I know that eating is what keeps me alive and that the people who love me are the people who don’t care what I look like.
I think back to 17-year-old Abby and wish I could give her a hug. I wish I could tell her it’s okay to eat food, cry, and take medication to make me feel better.
The other week I told my therapist I was tired of this. Tired of showing up, of journaling, of putting in the work. I just wanted a break. She looked at me and said, “You are putting in the work for your future self, as well as the broken version of yourself that existed years ago”.
If you're reading this, please keep putting in the work, please keep showing up, keep laughing, keep treating yourself with love, and keep going.
My name is Abby Pallant, I am 22 years old, and I love art, making jewelry, sunsets, Italian food, games nights, and giggling with my friends.
"One Day You Will Eat The Cake Guilt-Free." - Abby Pallant
Abby P., University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
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