Betsy M.
Photography by Jessica Pentel.
Before reading this letter, we'd like for you to know it discusses Betsy'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 Dana Q’s letter. If you're reading this, your feelings are valid.
If you’re reading this, it’s okay if your mental illness is never truly gone.
The first time I went to therapy I was 8 years old. I have always been very type A, but at the ripe old age of 8 I developed a constant anxiety that made it hard to sleep. I started seeing a therapist who helped me overcome this anxiety. After I “overcame” it, I went back to just being 8 again.
But, I had to go to therapy again when I was 13. I had been diagnosed with Depression, Anxiety, and an Eating Disorder. I started taking medication to help treat my mental illness, and I saw a therapist with the hopes that I would be able to move past this part of my life. After 6 months I stopped going to therapy, feeling that I was better and I could move on.
At age 15 I started seeing a therapist again. At age 16 I had to take a medical leave of absence from school for two weeks because of my Depression. When I got to college I suffered one of the most intense Depressive episodes of my life. However, each time I got back to feeling better after one of these instances, I viewed it as something in the past. I refused to accept that this could happen again, I only focused on the fact that it was over.
After my first year, I became more comfortable talking about my mental illnesses, but only in the context of the past. Even as I got more involved in mental health organizations around grounds, I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I was still struggling, and that I had been struggling for many years. It wasn’t until halfway through my second year that I realized I still had an Eating Disorder.
My Eating Disorder looked different than it had when I was 13, it had morphed from specific routine actions, to a deep rooted fear of food combined with very intense feelings of self hatred. I didn’t think my feelings about myself were anything out of the ordinary, but I also didn’t realize that I was building my life around food and my body. I was so scared of the way I looked I stopped getting in pictures. I would often skip dinners or to hang-outs with friends because I felt so ashamed of my body. I felt like my weight determined whether I was worthy of love and respect and friendship, and I was so scared that everyone around me would think these same things about me that I began to hide myself.
I spent most of quarantine in virtual Eating Disorder treatment. It was extremely difficult, but I learned a lot about myself. I learned how important it is to rely on my support system. I learned the importance of advocating for myself and my needs. I learned that if I keep putting all of my emotional energy into pretending I’m okay when I’m struggling, that I won’t have any energy left to care for myself.
It is way easier for me to talk about my mental illness when I’m in a good place. Then, I can frame it to others as something I have overcome; a battle I have won. But thinking of my mental illness this way is draining, because in a way I am lying to myself.
As I work towards recovery from my Eating Disorder, I have had to be honest both with myself and others about how I’m doing. I have had to accept that while I may be able to recover from my Eating Disorder, I will still have to choose recovery everyday. Similarly, I have had to accept that my Depression and Anxiety could be chronic, and that I could need medication and therapy for the rest of my life. As hard as it was for me to admit that to myself, I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a relief. After years of wondering why I wasn’t better already, or when this would all be over, I can finally focus on how to manage my mental illness and be proactive in helping myself live a happier, more balanced life. Just because my mental illness isn’t going away, I’m not any less strong.
As corny as it sounds, I’ve always tried to think of my life with mental illness as a hike in the mountains. Some days I'm heading up (in metaphorical altitude) and some days I’m heading down, but each day I am consciously choosing to step forward, no matter where that will lead me. What I have come to realize is that I don’t have to go on this hike alone. Sometimes the bravest thing any of us can do is ask for help, over and over and over again. No matter what my body looks like, or what phase of my journey I’m in, I deserve to experience love, respect, friendship and joy, and if you’re reading this, you deserve that too.
Betsy M., University of Virginia
Connect With Us
To follow IfYoureReadingThis at UVA on Instagram, get in touch with our chapter, and learn about more resources available to University of Virginia students, visit our chapter’s homepage.
AUTHOR CONTACT
This author has opted to allow readers who resonate with their story to contact them. If you would like to speak to the author of this letter about their experience, please use the form below.
