Alena S.
Photography by Aidan Sales
Before reading this letter, we'd like for you to know it discusses Alena’s experience with an eating disorder. If you think that reading about this will be triggering for you, we encourage you to take a pause before reading this letter, center yourself, and prepare any resources you may need to access after reading it. If you'd rather not read this letter, we encourage you to read a letter on a different topic, such as this one. If you're reading this, your feelings are valid.
I gazed outside the window looking at the shores of Southern California as my eyes began to water. My mom and sister periodically looked at me in the back seat, trying desperately to hide their own tears. We were on our way to drop me off at an eating disorder rehab center in Santa Barbara. My anorexia had spiraled out of control; for years I had been struggling with my relationship with my body and food, only this time was different. Around summer of 2020, I fell harder than I ever had before. I had starved myself to the point of a severely slow heart rate, hair was growing all over my body in an effort to keep me warm, I couldn't stand up without feeling dizzy, and I lost every ounce of love for myself. My doctor determined that I was in critical condition, and at that point, I knew I needed more help.
I was pulled out of my freshman year of college during the pandemic and placed in the rehab center, putting online classes on hold in order to prioritize my health. I came in on my first day with tears streaming down my face, wanting so desperately to go home with my mom. I struggled to adjust to my new lifestyle – eating six times a day, having to ask to use the restroom, five group therapy sessions each day, and only having contact with my family before bedtime. Weight restoration was crucial for me given the physical state I was in. But my mental battles were at a high due to this. I was still terrified of weight gain and how my body would change as a result of treatment. I used my eating disorder as a coping mechanism and I couldn’t anymore. I was in my most vulnerable state fighting the hardest battle, and there were so many times I wanted to refuse treatment or walk right out the door. But I continued to fight.
How in the world did I get here? I asked myself that question every single day. As I look back on it now, I realize that my eating disorder set unrealistic standards for me to meet. No matter how much weight I lost, it wasn’t enough. When I first got admitted into rehab, I wasn’t ready to give up my eating disorder. I didn’t feel sick enough or thin enough, but I also knew that those feelings would never come. But that is exactly what anorexia wants. It wants people to continue believing they’re not good enough. It wants people to continue spiraling out of control. It wants to hurt me, and so many others.
I spent 4 months recovering in the rehab center. Something I wanted to accomplish beyond recovery was earning forgiveness from myself, and from my family. My parents, my brother, and my sister all had to watch me get sicker and sicker. For a long time, I blamed myself for putting them through so much pain. I wanted to do better for them. I knew going to rehab would help earn me some forgiveness. Forgiveness for faking a smile and assuring everyone that I was fine. Forgiveness for holding onto something that they all tried to pull me away from. And forgiveness for trying to destroy myself. For too long I had been saying that I was okay. Rehab helped me believe that I was okay, and taught me how to admit that I’m not.
To those struggling with an eating disorder, I want you to know that it can get better if you let it. Your body does amazing things for you – it’s fighting to keep you healthy, it allows you to live your life, and it keeps you close to those you love. Don’t let the eating disorder take that away from you. You are worth so much more than what it’s trying to make of you.
Alena S., University of Southern California
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