I Hated My Body Because of a Mental Illness Named ED

All survivors have their war stories and I am no exception. In my case, the battlefield was my body and the enemy was the bully in my head, the mean girl who told me over the years I was unpretty, boring, fat, lazy and not smart. My eating disorder wasn’t a phase. It was a disease born in the corners of my mind that caused me to cycle through endless episodes of bingeing, purging and starvation. For the longest time, I thought I could talk to no one about this because the injurious words the bully in my head would cast upon myself were still better than the label I would be assigned if anyone knew my secret.

I Hated My Body and Sometimes Still Do

Now recovered from bulimia for nearly 5 years, I still sometimes scrutinize my body in the mirror. I can see that the scar from the emergency gall bladder surgery I had due to bulimia-related complications is gone. It has faded away as if that whole period of my life never happened. But I still have the pink measuring tape. The one I used to diligently track the size of my thighs, hips, arms and waistline.

I keep it handy in a kitchen cupboard so that I can remind myself, on a difficult day, how far I have come. Sometimes I take it out and look at it, and remind myself of the choice between self-harm and self-love. I remember how in many ways, the pink measuring tape was not only the thread around my hips, but also the noose around my neck. But I escaped its grip on time. I chose to listen and trust myself and was able, over time, to conquer the voice in my mind which bullied me for years.

From Body Hate to Body Acceptance

As a part of my recovery process, I wrote a letter to my body in my journal a couple of years ago. I thought I’d share it with you, so that perhaps you could relate to the inner struggles I used to face while I battled my eating disorder. It was a very long road for me and this offers you a glimpse into my journey to body acceptance.

Dear Body,

It never felt like you were mine. I never felt that you and I were meant to be. I used to think of you endlessly and wonder why you weren’t the way I wanted you to be; the way I needed you to be in order to match what my mind wanted you to look like. In ballet class, you failed me every time I’d look at your hips in the studio’s full length mirror. Over the years, when I would be paid a compliment, I never believed you were worthy of it. I loved swimming because it meant I could hide you underwater, yet do something I loved in between getting in and out of the pool, ashamed of what you looked like in spandex.

You were a lot of things, but in my eyes, you were never enough. You were hit, bruised, scarred, hurt, kissed, loved, hated and given up on. You were merely a doll; a puppet, telling a tale of hate your mind was writing. But it wasn’t your fault. Your mind was sick. All along, you were perfect in every imperfect way. I just never saw it, until I almost lost you for good.

I look at you now and know that I’ve come to love you because above all, you’re still standing. You’re on your way to becoming stronger and free from your mind. You’re not exactly the way I want you to be; perhaps you never will, but right now, you’re exactly what I need you to be.

Love,

Patricia

Stay tuned for more on body acceptance later on this week when my co-author Jessica Hudgens shares her thoughts on her body! As usual, feel free to leave your comments below. I really enjoy getting your feedback and starting up a dialogue with you guys!

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