The beginnings of my eating disorder journey

I was always a fat baby- chubby and round and roll-y. My dad called me "slim" because I was anything but.... There are only a handful of pictures of me as a baby but in more than half of them, I am eating.

I have always loved food and found great, great comfort in it. I needed the comfort because I never felt like I fit in or was good enough- not at home, not at school, not at all. I was awkward, painfully shy, introverted, insecure, and overly sensitive. 

I have a sister who is 18 months older than I am. She is (and always has been) popular, fun, easy to get along with, friendly, and a perfect people pleaser. Everyone likes her- you can't help it. She's wonderful. When people compared us (which in my mind was often) she always came out on top....except that as we grew up, I outgrew my fat baby rolls and was always naturally thin and tall. She was shorter and rounder and very conscious of her weight. When we would fight or tease each other, as siblings do, she would point out any number of my flaws and weaknesses and I would call her fat. It was the one thing that gave me an edge and a win.

Despite my natural thinness, I started exercising as a teenager. I wanted to be firmer and look good in a bikini. The exercise worked well. I did not enjoy it but I would force myself to do it and then treat myself afterwards. 30x running up and down the stairs and then a sweet treat, 300-400 sit-ups then I could go to bed for the night (every night without fail), an aerobic workout video for 45 minutes then I could relax or read a book. If I did these things regularly, I could eat whatever I wanted and enjoy it all without gaining weight.

In my 20's, my depression and anxiety hit a new high. I could not function and so went on anti-despressents. I gained a ton of weight. Though more emotionally stable, I looked and felt terrible physically- big, bloated, lazy. As soon as I went off the meds, I started exercising again- a workout first thing in the morning and second one every evening after dinner- again without a day or night off ever. The weight came off easily. When I became a mom, there was no way to fit in 2 workouts a day but I religiously did one 40-45 minute one in the evenings. My metabolism was still good and I could still enjoy whatever foods I wanted in whatever amounts I wanted.

In my 30's, life was busy and I gradually let my exercise routine go. My metabolism slowed down, my appetite for food did not. I gained weight and before I knew it was 20 lbs over what I considered a reasonable weight.

At about 40, I started exercising again. I worked hard and got back into shape. I actually enjoyed the exercise for the first time in my life and I felt SO much better - physically and emotionally. I lost 25 pounds. I ate a bit more conservatively and watched my portions but overall, still had balance with it all.

Then my family opened our home to foster children. There is nothing quite like fostering (maybe some day I will share some of THOSE crazy stories....). We invited into our lives trauma, chaos and messes we wouldn't have before thought possible. Despite the insanity of it all, we adopted one of our foster children making him our forever son. We had fostered our little guy for more than 3 years and he was a part of our family that we could not imagine life without. 

And during all that, there was normal life with its unavoidable craziness until it was all a perfect storm that led to the disordered eating and exercise. My first 2 children graduated from high school and left home, COVID hit shutting us off from friends and support, my dad got sick with cancer, my hormones were fluctuating with normal pre-menopause symptoms, my metabolism naturally slowed even more. Everything felt out of control all at once. 

Exercise became my stress relief, something I could control and turn to. It became my escape, my progress and accomplishment, my excuse, my hobby, my purpose, my lifeline, my everything. The endorphins made me feel good. The weight control gave me measurable success. Doing a workout would distract me from thinking about life and keep me busy and emotionally distant. But then my weight would level off and my constant exercise added more strain to my already stressed out family and our relationships. So, I started restricting my calories more and more in an effort to keep that control. And I exercised more and more to combat the stress. And then before I totally realized it, it just got completely out of control. I would exercise 4 1/2-5 1/2 hours a day every single day and would consume as few calories as I could get away with.