I like to write about things I consider myself an (amateur) expert on, arts that I have mastered. I write about anxiety and stress, and I am vulnerable, because nobody is perfect. I tell tales of day trips past and recommend (in my opinion) THE best places to go and food to eat. I offer up recipes and home decor ideas like it’s nobody’s business, and people seem to respond well. But it’s always, without fail, hard to talk about a struggle that you fight each day, to expose your true and vulnerable self.
This is not a confession, or a short story to depress you, but rather an introduction to my story. My struggle.
This is not a confession, or a short story to depress you, but rather an introduction to my story. My struggle.
I have always loved beauty. Since the days of pinks and princesses I have been a “fancy girl.” I hit high school and this innocent passion reached a whole new level. Eleventh grade became a year defined by obsession. Obsession with “health,” with exercise, with control, and ultimately with avoiding food. All good things fell by the wayside as I began to focus on the perfect body, and the pounds flew off. Within two months I had dropped 25 pounds, weight my 5’ 8’’ frame couldn’t afford to lose. I disengaged with friendships, broke up with my high school love, was awful to my parents and rejected my younger sisters. The summer of my senior year was spent in a battle, with everyone around me, and with anorexia.
Anorexia nervosa (as defined by the Mayo Clinic) is “an eating disorder that causes people to obsess about their weight and the food they eat.” An estimated 3.7 % of women in the US struggle with anorexia at some point in their life time, and the mortality rate is the highest of any mental disorder (ANAD).
As in my case, excessive exercise often accompanies food control. I will never forget when I learned about anorexia in eight grade health class. My thought, and a common misconception, was that anorexia is just skinny girls looking in the mirror and thinking they are fat. It is SO much more than that. For me, and for many women, anorexia stems from emotion. It is a means to control. It was my unhealthy response to pressure, to lack of control, a way to take matters into my own hands. I was struggling with stomach pain that no doctor seemed to cure. I was in the midst of an intense year of high school, looking at colleges and prepping for SATs. I was drowning in the social pressures, maintaining friendships, a romantic relationship, academics and extracurriculars. I was a mess, and I thought I could hold it together on my own, that I was in control. Weight was the only thing in my life I truly could control, and it wasn’t in a healthy way.
Anorexia nervosa (as defined by the Mayo Clinic) is “an eating disorder that causes people to obsess about their weight and the food they eat.” An estimated 3.7 % of women in the US struggle with anorexia at some point in their life time, and the mortality rate is the highest of any mental disorder (ANAD).
As in my case, excessive exercise often accompanies food control. I will never forget when I learned about anorexia in eight grade health class. My thought, and a common misconception, was that anorexia is just skinny girls looking in the mirror and thinking they are fat. It is SO much more than that. For me, and for many women, anorexia stems from emotion. It is a means to control. It was my unhealthy response to pressure, to lack of control, a way to take matters into my own hands. I was struggling with stomach pain that no doctor seemed to cure. I was in the midst of an intense year of high school, looking at colleges and prepping for SATs. I was drowning in the social pressures, maintaining friendships, a romantic relationship, academics and extracurriculars. I was a mess, and I thought I could hold it together on my own, that I was in control. Weight was the only thing in my life I truly could control, and it wasn’t in a healthy way.
I had succumbed to the lie that who I was couldn’t compare to the girl I had created in my mind, the girl I wanted to be. I longed to be smart, skinny, athletic and beautiful. I viewed myself through such warped eyes that when I looked in the mirror I despised what I saw. In turn, I starved myself.
And then, I was undone by a photo pasted to my bedroom mirror. I stared at it, gazing past the reflection of my skeleton self and into the eyes of a girl who was alive. A girl surrounded by her loving family, smiling and actually looking happy, and I broke. I fell to the floor, sobbing.
I can’t do this anymore. I can’t control my physical body to the point of exhaustion. I can’t keep the facade of calm and cool when I feel on the verge of bursting. I am alone, scared, depressed and starving. I can go up, or I can choose down.
That morning I ran to my mom. I told her I wanted to change, to stop resisting the treatments my parents were offering. To go with the intent of recovering, accepting and admitting that I was sick. Anorexia nervosa shook my high school world, but I chose to overcome it.
I can’t do this anymore. I can’t control my physical body to the point of exhaustion. I can’t keep the facade of calm and cool when I feel on the verge of bursting. I am alone, scared, depressed and starving. I can go up, or I can choose down.
That morning I ran to my mom. I told her I wanted to change, to stop resisting the treatments my parents were offering. To go with the intent of recovering, accepting and admitting that I was sick. Anorexia nervosa shook my high school world, but I chose to overcome it.
. . . . . . .
I truly believe it is by God’s grace that (if they were even existent then) I knew nothing about Instagram and Pintrest in the depths of my battle. Don’t get me wrong- I am the biggest fan these two social media tools have, social media can perpetuate the problem that I, and many others with my struggle, face.
How much harder is it to love yourself when every other woman’s perfect Nike Frees and 27 mile runs are easily accessible to compare? And when I follow a pintrest board that is practically my own personal reminder of the home I don’t own and the clothes I don’t have, when does “inspiration” evolve into just plain discontentment?
How much harder is it to love yourself when every other woman’s perfect Nike Frees and 27 mile runs are easily accessible to compare? And when I follow a pintrest board that is practically my own personal reminder of the home I don’t own and the clothes I don’t have, when does “inspiration” evolve into just plain discontentment?
This summer marks five years since I entered treatment for anorexia. It’s been a journey... marked with tears, attitude, fear, countless counselor and dietician appointments and a support system who stuck with me through it. That boyfriend I broke up with? He’s now my beloved husband of six months. I’ve mended relationships, regained a healthy weight and found a balance of eating and exercise.
But I struggle still.
I spent 30 minutes on my hair just to sit on my couch and write this. Sometimes I save the hour before my husband gets home to prep and primp so I look like the prettiest housewife he ever did see. And what about those mornings when I wake up in tears over the chocolate cake I couldn’t turn down or gym alarm I missed?
I still struggle with looking in the mirror and saying that I am happy with who I see. My confidence can fluctuate and every once in a while an edge of panic accompanies buffet lines or days off from work outs. It’s a battle that I am constantly fighting, and it is my choice to fight it. But there is a whole new battle to fight in this generation.
Instant inspiration and the ability to connect with friends and relatives like never before creates a pull. It is a pull for perfection, and I speak as an experienced perfectionist who can’t stand when things don’t look just right. What Instagram filter will make my hair look shiny, my face look clear and my house look clean? If I crop this photo just right no one will know that my bed isn’t made, or that I burnt the bottom of the bread.
Loving yourself is a major task. How can we eliminate the things that cause us to stumble, cause self-hatred and discontent to fester within us?
Personally, I have had to set very clear boundaries in certain areas of my life that I knew would help me get healthy and stay healthy.
But I struggle still.
I spent 30 minutes on my hair just to sit on my couch and write this. Sometimes I save the hour before my husband gets home to prep and primp so I look like the prettiest housewife he ever did see. And what about those mornings when I wake up in tears over the chocolate cake I couldn’t turn down or gym alarm I missed?
I still struggle with looking in the mirror and saying that I am happy with who I see. My confidence can fluctuate and every once in a while an edge of panic accompanies buffet lines or days off from work outs. It’s a battle that I am constantly fighting, and it is my choice to fight it. But there is a whole new battle to fight in this generation.
Instant inspiration and the ability to connect with friends and relatives like never before creates a pull. It is a pull for perfection, and I speak as an experienced perfectionist who can’t stand when things don’t look just right. What Instagram filter will make my hair look shiny, my face look clear and my house look clean? If I crop this photo just right no one will know that my bed isn’t made, or that I burnt the bottom of the bread.
Loving yourself is a major task. How can we eliminate the things that cause us to stumble, cause self-hatred and discontent to fester within us?
Personally, I have had to set very clear boundaries in certain areas of my life that I knew would help me get healthy and stay healthy.
- Toss that scale out the window. When I was sick, the scale was my addiction. I weighed myself constantly. Every time I ate, every time I exercised, at least six times a day I would race to the scale. If my weight fluctuated even one pound I would cry for hours. The reality is, weight always fluctuates. It’s the way our bodies are made. And I wasn’t factoring in that muscle weighs more than fat, that some weight is simply water weight, etc. To keep myself from falling into the trap of numbers I do not keep a scale anywhere in my home. I can tell if I’m healthy by the way my clothing fits, and a number could just throw me for a loop. If I’m happy with how I feel, and if I am healthy, then there is no need to compare with what I read in magazines or see on TV.
Which leads me to... - What are you filling your mind with? I love fashion/beauty, and read Teen Vogue and similar magazines when I was in high school. As I’ve grown in who I am and built confidence in my appearance I realize that what these magazines were feeding me wasn’t as harmless as I thought. For me, reading quick and easy diet tricks or exercise fads only led to obsessiveness and the feeling that I wasn’t doing enough. I still purchase a Vogue or Cosmo magazine every once in a while, but I try not to constantly immerse myself in the culture of beauty that I so easily fall into. I love to read fashion blogs and keep up with the latest trends but sometimes I have to take time away from stuff that just doesn’t make me feel great.
- Talk about it. I have days when I struggle a little, and days when I struggle a lot. The holidays get better every year, but it’s easy to let all that food scare me. I love lazy snow days, but also stress over not being able to get a good work out in or drinking lots of cocoa. The best thing I can do is talk about how I’m feeling with amazing friends and family who I can text or call and be honest with. Not only does it remind me that I’m not alone in my struggle, but often these people will give me a dose of reality that breaks my irrational fears. Ultimately, I have to go to the Lord with my feelings and that’s where I can truly recenter, but having people around me involved in my process is huge.
Discontentment with yourself is SO not pretty, just like dropping to an unhealthy weight wasn’t pretty. The danger is, anorexia was a physical ailment manifesting my discontent with life, with me.
No matter what your struggle, know that you are not alone. That others have gone through this, are going through this, and that there is hope! The beauty of my struggle with identity, with loving myself, is the grace I found through it all and the story I have because of it.
Photograph by Jeremy Hess Photography Katie married her high school sweetheart, Brent Hostetter, in August, graduated from Millersville University in December, and works doing marketing for two local businesses and nannying part-time. Besides blogging, she loves thrift shopping, day trips with her husband, running, baking and decorating the little apartment in downtown Lancaster that they call home. Keep up with Katie’s adventures as a newlywed, tried and true recipes and heart for social justice at www.katehostetter.com.
*The sign included in this piece was created by Abbey Simpson of In Colour// Creations by Abbey Elizabeth. To learn more about Abbey, purchase her signs, or attend one of her creative workshops visit her on Facebook.
*The sign included in this piece was created by Abbey Simpson of In Colour// Creations by Abbey Elizabeth. To learn more about Abbey, purchase her signs, or attend one of her creative workshops visit her on Facebook.
