Anna O.
Photography by Ally Szabo
Please note: In this letter, there is discussion of an eating disorder. If you think you may find this content triggering, please consider reading one of the other letters of IfYoureReadingThis.org, or prepare to access any support systems or resources you find helpful.
If you’re reading this, give yourself some grace.
Maybe it's just the runner in me, but I used to think of my eating disorder recovery as a lap around the track.
Last year, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. Through the encouragement of close friends and family, I took a leap of faith to seek help, start therapy, and meet a nutritionist. I thought that in a few months' time, I would run through an imaginary finish line, and I would be “recovered.” In my mind, crossing that finish line meant that my relationship with food and exercise would drastically improve, and I would suddenly love my body.
But, I learned the hard way, in order to truly “recover,” I couldn’t sprint through the process. Once I did begin recovery, I was able to make quick changes to my routine. Instead of restrictive diets, I tried intuitive eating. I turned off my intermittent fasting alarms, broke my toxic Apple watch exercise streaks, listened to many informative podcasts, and found a therapist who was the right fit.
After a few months of working with my doctor, therapist, and nutritionist, I entered last summer feeling restored. I fell in love with yoga again. I redeveloped a proper sleep schedule. I got excited to cook dinner for my family each night. In an attempt to leave my challenging year behind me, I jetted off to Italy during the Fall semester without a worry in the world. In Italy, I stopped working out entirely and felt like I was finally living in the moment again, unbothered by foods I used to fear.
That said, I was only showing the world part of the truth. Behind closed doors, I was having horrible panic attacks about the quantity of food I was consuming, the weight I was gaining, and my lack of exercise, leading me to feel like I was slowly losing control of my body. My intrusive thoughts kept me up late at night and greeted me when I woke up in the morning.
Italians’ love and appreciation for food allowed me to slowly but surely rebuild my own relationship with food, and my study abroad program provided me with an incredible support system of friends to hold my hand as I continued my recovery process overseas. As amazing as my experience abroad was, I realized that my baggage did in fact still follow me to Italy, and I could not completely escape the problems I had left behind in the States.
I was hesitant to write this letter because I am still healing. I am still recovering. Every day, I try to find the strength to appreciate food and exercise for their true value and endorphins, rather than how they will change my body and my weight.
Through my own recovery journey, I have learned that recovery truly is a marathon, not a sprint on the track. If you are going through recovery yourself; set your own pace, embrace the hurdles along the way, and take the time you need to get to the finish line. I hope to get there one day too.
Anna O., Villanova University
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