From Darkness to Light

My name is Meghan. I am here to tell you about my story and what has shaped me into a body positive and eating disorder activist. My story begins as a young girl in a large family. I am the youngest of 6; 3 older sisters, 2 of which have cystic fibrosis, and 2 older brothers. I consider my parents saints for dealing with 6 children under the age of 13! They are the epitome of love and selflessness and I hope to one day be as great of parents as they have been to me.

My earliest memory regarding my body goes back to 1^st grade. The cute boy in my class asked me to go to the school picnic. It was a big deal to be asked and I was elated that he chose me! We had a great day of riding rides together and hanging out with all of our friends. Towards the end of the day, several of us were sitting on the front steps of school. He turned to me to say something, and being a smitten 1^st grader, I thought he was going to tell me he liked me. Instead, he turned and said, “you’re fat!” And then got up and walked away. I sat there in shock, trying to understand what just happened and by the tone of his voice, realizing that “being fat” was a bad thing. My heart was broken. That day, my mind processed one of the very first encounters of negative body image.

Reflecting back on this, I am pretty sure I buried it away for many years. As I got a little older however, I started paying attention to my mom and her focus on her own body and food issues. From a very early age, I can remember my mom always on a diet. Weekly we had Nutri System delivered to our door or my mom would attend meetings at Weight Watchers. I remember many times her coming home from those meetings either elated because she had lost weight, or she would feel very discouraged, almost defeated because she had gained or just maintained. As a young girl, I was slowly putting together that happiness and joy came only if your weight was the right number on the scale.

It breaks my heart to remember back to the constant negative messages she would give herself, such as, “I’m fat”, “If I lose weight I can__”, “Ugh, I gained this week”, “I lost this week”, etc. I do want to say that my mom never made comments to me regarding my body; it was only about hers. As a young impressionable girl, who adores her mom, I was so confused as to how she could say so many negative things about herself.

During all of this time, I was an athlete. Growing up I played soccer, basketball, softball, but my love was volleyball. I started playing in the 3^rd grade and joined a club team in the 5^th grade. It became my life. I played year round and became a really good player and team leader. We traveled all the time for our club team, so I was exposed at an early age, to lots of different girls. I started down the road of comparing myself to others at that time, wishing I were taller, thinner, faster, etc. My self-esteem took a big hit and only continued.

Like I said earlier, my parents never really made comments about my body, however, there were other adult figures in my life that did. It was heart breaking to have adults, those people that you look up to, call you things such as a trash-compactor, or pudge and poke your belly. I was humiliated every time it happened and felt so ashamed.

My body image and lack of self-esteem kicked into high gear when I entered high school. Entering high school was scary and overwhelming. I felt like a little fish in a huge ocean. I struggled to fit in and find friends. I played volleyball, which helped, but still felt very alone. I remember my freshman year, calling my older sister at college, and crying to her on a Friday night; telling her that no one liked me, I didn’t have any friends, and I never was asked to go out. It was an incredibly lonely time and when my depression, negative body image and lack of self-esteem started.

By my Junior year of high school, I had found a group of friends I felt comfortable with, but still struggled with not feeling good enough. I struggled with depression and began working out more. By my senior year, I committed to playing volleyball in college. In my mind, I equated success on the volleyball court, with weight loss and eating less. I began over-exercising and by high school graduation and into that summer, I significantly cut my calorie intake and was heading down a dark road. My goal, at the time, was to get into the best shape of my life for college volleyball. But the issues of negative body image had been planted years before and were now coming out full force.

I entered college pre-season volleyball, NOT in the best shape of my life. Instead, I entered at a low weight, extremely low body fat %, no menstrual cycle, little energy and only the drive and determination to control everything I put into my body.

I had been at school for less than a month, when my coach forced me to go to a dietician and counselor. I hated it; I was fine; I had it under control. At least that is what I thought. I fought him about it each time he made me go. One of my visits to the dietician revealed I had dropped more weight. My coach gave me an ultimatum; at my next appointment, if I lose any more weight, he was sending me home. I didn’t believe him, but I also didn’t care anymore. I was tired; tired of fighting, tired of controlling, tired of not controlling, just tired of life.

The inevitable happened on my next appointment and coach stuck to his word. I was going home. I left school less than 2 months after arriving. I entered a treatment center on October 11, 2000 for Anorexia Nervosa. My life felt like it was over.

I lived in-patient at the treatment center for a month. I celebrated my 19^th birthday there. Within that month, I was submersed into a world of morning weigh-ins, chaperoned meals, chaperoned bathroom visits, individual therapy, group therapy, journaling, crying and wanting it all to end.

A big part of my “ED” brain did not feel like I was “sick enough” to be in treatment since the other girls were a lot thinner than me and some were on feeding tubes. My “ED” brain kept telling me I needed to get thinner, no one cares about you, unless you are thinner. I hated every inch of my skin. I was completely distorted in my mind of how my body looked. Everyone would tell me I looked too thin, but I could NOT see it.

I spent that month really just trying to digest what in the world was happening to me. How did I get to this point in my life? Unfortunately, my insurance ran out and I was discharged from in-patient treatment, 1 month after I arrived. The scary part was, I had not even hit rock bottom yet. I wanted to run from it all. I was tired of dealing with it and actually at one point told my family that I was done fighting, I’m going to live my life the way I want, even if that meant dying.

My rock bottom came 1 month after being discharged from treatment. I was struggling, still working out, mostly in secret, and I started abusing laxatives. One night, I was ashamed for eating what I thought was too much food, and ended up taking too many laxatives. My brother came up to get me the next morning and realized something was seriously wrong. My color was gone and my stomach was not well. I told him what I did and he took me straight to the ER. They gave me 2 bags of saline because my fluids & electrolytes were so out of whack. My rock bottom came that day. I was admitted to the psychiatric ward, as they thought I was a threat to myself. After 10 days of being there, I knew, no matter how hard it was going to be, that I did NOT want to live like this anymore!

I’m not going to say it was all up hill after getting out of the hospital. There was still a lot of struggle and battles, but it seemed my mind had shifted a bit and I was willing to TRY and get better. I continued with a lot of intensive therapy and to relearn how to love myself. The first few years after treatment were anything but easy. I returned to college the following year and continued my collegiate volleyball career. I struggled on and off with body image issues for years.

I am entering my 15^th year in recovery and can definitely say my mindset is completely different. Do I still struggle with body image issues? Absolutely! But I have learned throughout my recovery and therapy, how to redirect my thoughts. I have learned to appreciate my body for what it can do for me on a daily basis. I try my hardest not to focus on physical parts of myself, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t happen. Some days are better than others.

I would not be were I am today without my amazingly supportive, friends and family. Beth, you made a tough decision to inform my family that I had a problem, even though you knew I would be mad at you. Without your intervention, I would not be were I am today! THANK YOU! I love you! To my mom, dad, sisters and brothers, thank you for never giving up on me. Thank you for the countless hours of support. Thank you for working tirelessly to put me in treatment, therapy, etc. It would take a 100 lifetimes to express my gratitude. To crazy cousin Pat, I hope you are smiling up in heaven while reading this blog. Because of you, I am still here! To my amazing therapist and friend, Christine! I can’t even begin to express to you, how much you have done for me, in our 15 years together! You know me probably better than I know myself. Your constant support, gentle nudging towards those things I feared, and to your friendship…I am indebted! To all of my high school and college girls that continue to support me to this day, I love you all! Finally, to my loving husband, Steve, you have been there since day 1 of college! I know it can’t be easy living with a recovered anorexic. There are still tough days and you are always there to support me! Your unwavering love and constant support mean more to me than I can ever express in writing. I love you more than words! Thank you!

To all of those out there struggling, my words of advice are this: DON’T GIVE UP! I know it seems like your life is spiraling out of control. Ask for help! Make the choice to want to get better! It will not be easy! But you can do it. Have faith in yourself. Life is so much better on the other side of ED!

To those family members of someone struggling, my words of advice are this: DO NOT GIVE UP! Keep on your family member! Let them know you are there for them NO MATTER WHAT! Don’t let the fear of hurting their feelings scare you; do what you think is best for that person, they will thank you in the end. Stay strong and keep the faith!