How I’m fixing my relationship with my body, after three years in recovery from anorexia

It’s hard to believe, but it’s been three years now. Three years of tremendous change, learning, physical and mental growth, and recovery. For those of you who have dealt with a mental illness, you know that recovery is a never-ending process. I find this especially true for me and my recovery from anorexia. Many people don’t realize that anorexia – and all of the other forms that eating disorders come in – are mental illnesses with physical side effects. In my case, anorexia nearly brought me into cardiac arrest. But it came as a result of intense feelings of depression and anxiety.

On May 6th 2013, I was hospitalized for having a dangerously slow heart rate as a result of several years of disordered eating. After more than a week of being constantly monitored, fed through a tube, and consulted by a plethora of different medical professionals, I was still far from “cured”. It took months for me to even accept that I had a problem, let alone to become fully invested in my recovery.

When I finally came to terms with it, I realized how much of my childhood and adolescence I had wasted hating my body. It made me upset that my eating disorder had prevented me from experiencing life at its fullest. I was too preoccupied counting calories or thinking about how much weight I needed to lose before I could be “pretty” and “happy” that I often didn’t have time to really enjoy what was right in front of me, and to appreciate all the amazing things my body was capable of.

Though eating disorders are mental illnesses caused predominantly by genetics and other factors out of our control, they are frequently triggered by environmental factors like the societies we live in. Since my recovery began, I have grown increasingly cognizant of the messages we are told from a young age that are meant to prey upon our insecurities. Walk down any grocery store check out aisle and you are bombarded with images of models and celebrities who are perceived as having “perfect” physical forms. We are then encouraged to go to whatever lengths necessary to attain this illusion of flawlessness, how to “lose 10 pounds in two weeks” or get a “bikini body”.

Though there is nothing at all wrong with having a body that fits society’s standards of perfection, there is something deeply wrong with living in a world that tells us that this is the only way to be beautiful. And there is something wrong with being made to believe that our value as people is determined by our appearances.

I might not have a thigh gap or a tiny waist, but I’m beginning to realize how very little that matters. The funny thing is, the way I feel about my body has little to do with what I actually look like. I feel the most beautiful when I am joyful and radiant from the inside out.

I am a runner, and I am amazed by what my body is capable of when I treat it with patience and respect. Our bodies are nothing more and nothing less than the vessels we use to go through life. If we take care of them, we can use them to do some pretty amazing things. But more importantly, they don’t define us.