Molly R.
Photography by Caroline MacLaren
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, allow your heart to rest.
When my mom talks about my story, she says that my heart was very tired. She was right. My heart was tired physically and emotionally and it was working overtime to keep me alive. I was malnourished and my mental health was worn down completely. Weight gain and overeating were terrifying, but I never wanted to admit that I had an eating disorder. I didn’t want to lose the illness that I used as a way to cope with all of my problems, especially my anxiety. But in reality, it was making everything worse.
I often tell people that my eating disorder was like a toxic friend. It was a constant voice in my head telling me I needed to keep it around or else I would be miserable. The reality was my anorexia was the one making me miserable. I missed out on going to events, hanging out with my friends and family, enjoying good food, learning in school, playing field hockey, and the list goes on.
I was first diagnosed in 2013 and was hospitalized not long after. After I was physically okay to leave the hospital, I started family-based treatment. This was made up of a strict meal schedule, many appointments in the city, and a lot of fighting. A long couple of months went by and I was up to my goal weight. The struggles were still there but I was able to go back to “normal” without worrying about my physical health.
I started high school and felt a combination of anxiety, body image struggles, social comparison, and common high school stressors. I spiraled back into what I knew to be the best way to cope, my eating disorder. I remember the comments I would get about how I looked thin -- which told me I was winning. I wanted to look like the girls I saw on Instagram and TV. My happiness was not genuine. I would feel happy for about five minutes when I saw the number on the scale go down, only to be stressed about my body later. I was being tricked into slowly making my body sicker.
If I ate too much I would purge or heavily restrict the next day. I was silently suffering. I was depleting my body of all the nutrients it needed and deserved. My eating disorder got the best of me again and I was re-admitted to the hospital. Following my stay, I was sent to a residential treatment center in Miami.
I was there for six months. My treatment team was very strict with me. They had to be because my eating disorder was stubborn and would do whatever it could to stay by my side. Very slowly, I worked with my team and learned coping skills, faced fear foods, learned how to mindfully eat and what my body needs in order to function. It was not a pretty journey at all, but if it weren’t for my stay there, my eating disorder would have won the war. I still have those disordered thoughts sometimes, but thanks to all I have learned in treatment I know how to respond before the eating disorder nudges.
On my road to recovery, I had a community of people to rely on and I learned that it is okay to let your guard down and get help. Whether it’s an eating disorder, depression or anxiety, it is okay to reach out. We don’t realize how many people across this campus can relate to our own struggles. By building a community and letting ourselves be vulnerable, it is possible to help the lives of many.
It is important for everyone to be kind, to listen, and to lend a hand because we truly do not know what others are going through. There is no need to strain yourself, put on a happy face, and suffer alone. Mental health struggles tire us out, but we are a community, and we have the resources to help one another. Every single student deserves to allow their heart to rest.
Molly R., Villanova University
