Finding My Way

Today, I’m sharing my story. I hope it finds those out there who are struggling or know someone who is. I hope it gives them hope and opens up dialogue.

My name is Kat. A little bit about me; I’m born and raised in St. Louis. I have 6 older siblings, 4 sisters and 2 brothers. My parents raised us and put us all through private school through high school. My grandmother, who my brothers and sisters lovingly called Nannie came to live with us and help with childcare as my older sisters went off to college and my parents continued to work full time. I grew up in a home with much love and support.

Growing up, I remember my first encounter with body image in early grade school; I was around 7 years old. I was teased and called “chubby” and “chubs” quite often by older boys in school, some who were in my older brother’s grade. Those two nicknames had left their mark regarding my body image.

My childhood primarily consisted of school, sports and friends. If you read Meghan’s story, I too played softball, soccer, basketball and volleyball throughout grade school. Particularly, our volleyball and basketball teams were quite competitive. The girls on the teams became my best friends. We were competitors and craved the win during each game. My competitive spark ignited during this time.

In terms of school, I had good grades and enjoyed classes. 3-5 days a week after school, I’d walk to my great aunt and uncle’s house, which was on my way home from school. My older role models played a significant role in my childhood development. I was extremely close and spent a great deal of time with my Nannie, Aunt Adele and Uncle Ray growing up.

In 7^th grade, I found out my parents were getting a divorce. This was the first significant feeling of sadness that I can remember. Every year another sibling was going off to college and the house got a little emptier and now this. By the time I was graduating 8^th grade, it was just 4 people left in my childhood home: my dad, my brother, Nannie and me. My mom had moved to Florida and I would visit her over the summers and see her on holidays. Although times seemed tough, I felt I could handle how I was feeling through by talking to family and friends.

After grade school, I had chosen to go to a high school different from all my friends and everyone in my school. As I entered high school, I had to make all new friends. Sometimes it was harder as many other girls came to high schools with their friends and network from grade school. I joined the volleyball and basketball teams to get into something familiar. Out of my comfort zone and struggling to fit in, I began comparing how I looked to other girls and developing a negative body image.

During my sophomore year, on Thanksgiving Day, Nannie couldn’t get out of bed. Nannie battled for her life in health facilities for months. Finally, in February 1998, Nannie’s suffering had ended and she passed away. Just 4 short months later, my great Uncle Ray had also passed. In a short time, I lost two very important people in my life.

I needed to find a way to control my life. A life that began to feel like it was spiraling out of control. At first my eating disorder habits were sporadic. I skipped a meal here and there. It was a way of coping for me. At least that’s how it started. When I heard people tell me that I “looked” great, it provided positive reinforcement to continue on in my bad habits. It was my secret. I thought if I were skinnier, that I would feel better about myself. I kept the negative feelings to myself most of the time. I didn’t want to burden anyone with my problems and thought I was still in control.

My closest friends would ask me if I was okay occasionally – in my mind that made me feel very defensive with a fear of being exposed. With encouragement from a close friend, I joined group therapy at my high school on the premise that I was still working through my parents divorce. I began hiding my habits better in fear that they would find out. I also began acting like everything was okay in front of them to get them off my tracks. Silence and hiding were my “go-to” strategies. By senior year, I was actively restricting significantly or purging on a regular basis.

The next big step in my life was college. I know now that I chose a university that was far, 800 miles to be exact, from friends or family to try to get away, away from those who were trying to help me, those who knew my secret or too close to finding out. My habits got worse and became a part of my daily life. Not only were there very few calories in my diet, I started over-exercising. My weight significantly dropped during my first semester.

When I came home for Christmas break, my friends and family saw a transformation. I hadn’t seen them all since I left. And at that point, I realized I needed them. I needed their support, but I didn’t want to come out and admit to them that I had a problem. I didn’t want to burden them with my troubles. I didn’t want to be “their” problem.

I knew I needed to be closer to home and closer to friends. I thought if I came back that I would feel less depressed and stop my eating disorder. I finished the semester and would start in fall at a University only 120 miles from home and one that I had plenty of friends nearby. I thought this was the key to my recovery. Even though I wanted to stop, I shortly discovered I couldn’t. I was paralyzed at meals, knowing I didn’t want to gain weight, but demonstrating that I could eat ‘normally’. I couldn’t let go of the control. I was living a double life, one out in the open and one behind closed doors. Eating caused so much anxiety.

One day during my 2^nd semester sophomore year, my dear friend Ellen called my sister and ‘outted’ me behind my back. She did this knowing how furious I would be and that this might cause the end to our friendship. She did this because she cared and because it had to be done. She was brave and put my wellbeing above the future of our friendship. It was the right thing to do.

In April 2002, two of my sister came to pick me up and take me to St. Louis for my grandfather’s 90^th birthday party.   The 2-hour drive home was their intervention. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide; I was stuck in that car. They knew. I was in shock, I was scared and I was mad. As tears welled up in my eyes, I started to feel a sense of relief. This weight that I’ve been carrying was out in the open and seemed a little lighter. I was still scared to tell my dad and mom, but I knew I had help from my sisters.

I was mad and hurt by what felt like Ellen’s betrayal, but over a short period of time during my recovery, I completely understood where she was coming from and made emends to rebuild our relationship. This just reminds me of how removed I was from my own reality. If it weren’t for her courage, I wouldn’t have gotten the help I clearly needed – for this I am truly grateful. It was the right thing to do even if it did cost our friendship, which it did not.

I did not return to school that semester. Instead I was admitted into a rehab facility in St. Louis to begin my recovery. Days were full of group therapy, one-on-one therapy, journaling, monitored meals, monitored bathroom breaks, weigh-ins and monitored medication. I lasted just a few days here. It was clear this type of treatment was not working for me.

My parents and I decided to try private therapy. It was during these sessions one on one or with my parents that I began to open up about underlying issues that needed to be addressed. I learned healthy ways to deal with my problems, which began to impact my self-esteem and health.

In my case the next few years of college I had to take each day one at a time. It took time, discipline and determination to begin to find my way – my life in recovery.

One year after graduation, I met my future husband and the love of my life. It wasn’t long into our relationship that I told him about my ED. It was part of who I was and I wanted to be honest and up-front. He was completely supportive and still is today. Over a decade into our relationship, he continues to stand by my side and give me encouragement in all aspects of life.

It’s been 14 years now and over those years, I have been less vocal about my ED and recovery. It wasn’t until last year that I heard disturbing comments from very young girls of friends and family that made me sick to my stomach. I know from experience that these thoughts, comments and impressions happen at a very early age. I’m at a place now that it is not a daily, weekly or even monthly struggle. I’ve been in a really great place for almost a decade now. Recovery is different for everyone.   It’s important to find what works and how to sustain a healthy life.

Our blog, eat.live.love is about sharing and spreading the word about ED, but also promoting recovery and living your life. I’d like to extend a huge, sincere thank you to the constant support from my friends, my parents, family and husband. Without you, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Thank you to all our supporters on the blog. I hope we can make a difference!