Bella B.
Photography by Sabrina Atkin
Before reading this letter, we'd like for you to know it discusses Bella’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 used to believe that when people told me my "problems" weren't real, they were right. That they knew something I didn't and that I built things up in my head and blew them out of proportion.
I kept my feelings to myself and built a brick wall around anyone close to me. My freshman and first semester of sophomore year of high school was basically the first time I had really wanted to feel "accepted."
Comparing myself became a pastime, and I forgot what enjoying food was like. My second semester of sophomore year hit me like a truck when I discovered working out in my free time instead of watching movies with my family.
Quarantine quickly became my excuse to restrict my eating and over-exercise. Not only had my insecurities become more intense, but it was all I could think about. It was consuming everything.
The thing with Eating Disorders as a mid-sized girl is that it's hard for people to take you seriously. It doesn't seem real because you're still "big." They assume you finally got healthy and did it the "right way." When in reality, what they failed to notice was that your routine was killing you.
Quarantine my junior year, I fainted. I was standing in my dad's home office, my sister at the desk, and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor. No one knows I barely ate that day. I was so consumed with the idea of being "thin."
My habits were catching up to me, but I couldn't stop. Drinking water suppresses the gurgles, grumbles, and gum to make the weird smell disappear. Working out became a chore. It was something I had to do if I wanted to eat. Even after I ate, I would burn off the exact amount.
It was exhausting. No one saw my issues the way I did. Until one day, I finally opened up to my therapist about how much eating took over my brain. My looks influenced how I felt for the day and how I couldn't continue life like this. This wasn't living, but rather me trying to survive.
After countless months of therapy and self-reflection, I realized my success isn't reliant on my weight and that weight will never be the reason I can't do something. It's taken so much heart and strength; some days, it's worse than others, but I will never let it consume me again.
It's okay to struggle because struggle will never get the best of you. In those moments of struggle, you discover the depth of your resilience and the power within you to overcome any challenge.
Bella B., University of Southern California
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