Sophia C.
Photograph provided by Sophia C.
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, I promise you’re not alone. Just keep fighting.
Growing up I strived for perfection. I checked off all the boxes: incredible grades, captain of the cheerleading squad, president of organizations, and a great group of friends. On the outside, I seemed perfect, but in reality, I was incredibly broken inside. I liked control and I learned quickly that it is dangerous when mixed with perfectionism. Two things I wish I learned early on are that perfection doesn’t exist, and I can’t control everything. I instead had to learn this lesson the hard way, wrapped up in an aggressive eating disorder.
I’m sure a lot of you reading this right now know exactly what the phrase “eating disorder” means and you got that gut-wrenching feeling as soon as you read those two words. You know what it means to consistently have to excuse yourself after dinner to “use the bathroom.” You know what means to be “gluten-free” or “vegan” just to give you an excuse to not eat the cookie. You know that there are exactly 85 calories in a cup of blueberries. You know what it feels like to have the exhausting breakdown because you cracked and ate the dessert. You know what it’s like to be afraid of the kitchen. You don’t just know what it means, you’ve lived it every day.
For those of you who aren’t as familiar, eating disorders f*cking suck. There truly is no other way to put it. They’re embarrassing, suffocating, depressing, and lonely. They’re emotionally and physically draining. It’s hard to focus on living when you’re constantly starving, constantly tearing yourself apart in the mirror, constantly not good enough. Eating is such a basic and fun part of life, yet somehow your brain can take that away from you and make it toxic. I struggled for a while with mine during the second half of high school and freshman year of college. Mental illnesses are dangerous because they’re very easy to hide. Only very few of my friends knew what I was going through, and I still haven’t told my parents. It’s easy to slap a fake smile on your face, pretend you’re on a health kick, and act like everything is fine.
If you’re reading this, I want you to know you don’t have to pretend like everything is okay. Monsters come in many shapes and sizes. For me, it was an eating disorder and depression. It may be anxiety for you. Whatever darkness is trying to trap you, whatever mental illness is trying to knock you down, I promise you you’re not alone, and it gets better. I finally started getting better when I actively decided that my eating disorder didn’t define me and I wasn’t going to let it stop me from living. You have to be patient and keep fighting, but I promise you’ll get through it. You have to make the choice to live your life the way you want to. Mental illnesses try to make you feel ashamed and weak, but they shouldn’t. They’re your superpowers. You’re stronger because of your depression. You’ll handle difficult situations better because of your anxiety. You’re more of a fighter because of your bulimia. You’re a better version of yourself because you know what it’s like to fight every day.
Sophia C., Georgia Tech
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