What I didn’t realize at the time was that my eyes and mind were incapable of seeing anything but a distorted image. Each time I looked at myself in the mirror, all I saw was a fat baby picture of me with fat arms, legs and double chin. I’d spent most of my young life being that photograph. I’d do whatever was needed to make sure that it wasn’t the case now.
Diary Entry (March 22, 1991)
Got up, sit-ups, weights… worked on the trampoline for 2 hours, 50 minutes—great—did extra sit-ups. Weighed myself—found out I weigh 115 lbs.! Wow!!! I can’t believe it! All of the exercise and dieting is paying off—I want to lose more weight, though. Before history class, I saw Stacy, and she said I looked different—thinner. Yeah!’”
“I have chosen you and have not cast you away.”
Isaiah 41:9
Question: Does eating or not eating help to relieve stress and anxiety for you in your life?
Question: Do you take actions to get and keep yourself thin at all costs?
Question: Do you feel like you are a failure if you gain weight?
“A sound heart is the life to the body: but envy is rottenness to the bones.”
—Proverbs 14:30
My 120 pounds became 115, which then dropped down to 110. I could feel my hip bones, and it was uncomfortable for me to sit in chairs. But I was succeeding. That’s all that mattered. And besides, I wouldn’t go too far. I’d stop when I was satisfied. Yeah, when I was at my “right” weight, then I’d stop. After all, I was in control.
Soon 110 pounds gave way to 100 pounds. I was great. I was fine. I had to wear two or three layers of clothing all of the time just to keep warm, but it was a small price to pay, right?
Then the comments started to change. Instead of the usual, “You look great,” I started getting more questions like, “Are you okay?” “You’ve lost weight” was now said with a concerned look and worried tone, not a smile. I started getting the question, “Are you eating?” A former high school classmate who had been anorexic became concerned. Within a span of four months, she approached me three times and asked me if I was anorexic. I defensively denied it each time. She terrified and infuriated me. Did any of these people asking these dreaded questions understand that they were trying to wreck everything I’d been striving to accomplish? I made up my mind. They were my enemy. They were trying to stop my success, my victory. But I wouldn’t let them. I intended to keep going.
One hundred pounds dropped to ninety pounds. By this time, I wasn’t feeling so hot at all. I was constantly freezing, now wearing three to four layers of clothing, despite the fact that it was a hot and humid mid July. I was “feeling worse,” but believing that I was “looking better.” At ninety pounds, my skin was crepe paper and just hung off from my bones. It didn’t have enough muscle tone or fat to support any kind of shape. Of course, I saw this as “fat flab.” I started losing hair in patches at my temples. My teeth were thinning, the enamel wasting away. I could count all of my ribs. I still wasn’t thin enough; it wasn’t good enough. I looked at myself and all I saw was the fat girl: disgusting, unworthy, not perfect or lovable. You know what that meant—more exercise (six plus hours a day) and less food (six hundred or less calories a day).
I was determined to reach my perfect weight goal of eighty pounds. At this point, I felt shame. Guilt increased every time someone questioned me. I was ashamed. I knew that what I was doing was wrong, but I still kept going. I had to. Progress—just a few more pounds, then I’ll be done. So I’d continue every morning: six hours of boot camp torture on little or no food or water. I had gotten to the point now where I feared drinking water would make me fat.
Every morning, my heart and pulse would pound and race. I could feel throbbing from veins that were sticking out on the backs of my knees and the crooks of my elbows. Every morning, I would stand up, shaky, dizzy already, only to then have everything go black. And then, I’d wake up, lying on the floor. Passing out was now a regular part of my day.
I was scared now, not only for my health, but scared of the danger of being discovered. What if I did this in front of someone? You see, these daily blackout sessions always happened during my exercise routine at midnight. I started exercising at midnight because I could be alone for my required six-hour exercise punishment. I was afraid of what people—especially my family—would think if I collapsed in front of them.
Mom frequently told me, “When you lie down to sleep, I’m afraid you’ll never wake up.” She’d also pick up library books on anorexia and read me the symptoms, commenting on things like the hair loss, the father issues, the obsession with not eating, etc. It was during this time, desperate to keep control of the situation, I did what I call “mock eating,” where I made it look like I’d eaten more than I did. I’d put some food on a plate, “disturb it” enough. It was all designed to make her believe that I was eating. This thought scared me too.
My parents began threatening me with hospitalization. I only worried that they threatened to take my control away from me.
I was hiding, feeling nothing but fear and shame. I must protect this! I must! At this point, I became obsessed self-protection, self-preservation. Funny, huh? I was basically near death, and yet, I saw self-preservation as keeping this “control.”
Question: Do you often feel afraid and ashamed of your eating behavior?
Question: Do you hide your behaviors when it comes to food, weight and body issues?
I was feeling more and more uncomfortable now. At eighty pounds, I’d gotten to the point where it was physically uncomfortable—painful for me to even lie down or sit. I had no energy to keep going, but I couldn’t rest. My hipbones, spine, and tailbone stuck out so much, I could feel a stabbing pain whenever I tried get comfortable. I couldn’t get rest. Sleeping became impossible.
“My heart pants, my strength fails me: As for the light of my eyes, it also has gone from me… For in you, O Lord, I hope: You will hear, O Lord my God.”
—Psalm 38:10, 15
