There’s a stigma surrounding eating disorders that nurtures the belief that they’re one of the less serious mental illnesses to be dealing with. Part of this, I believe stems from how closely intertwined they are with body image issues. It’s easy to believe that ED warriors are simply dieters that took it a step too far and that there’s only a couple burgers standing in the way of recovery. What people can sometimes fail to understand is that alike most other mental illnesses, eating disorders can gain control over your mind, limiting your ability to make good judgements.

I’ve been asked many times before what it feels like to experience this type of illness, what I was thinking and what I was feeling. It’s taken a long time for me to be able to look back objectively, to evaluate my behaviour and mindset without being overwhelmed with anxiety. Eating disorders are so easy to judge and label because of their distinctive physical impact which makes it hard for onlookers to understand what’s going on beneath the surface.

Suffering from a restrictive eating disorder is so much more than just another “fad” or “extreme” diet plan. It’s the meals that you skip because of the jiggle in your belly that only you can see. It’s the hours spent scrolling through fitness and modelling accounts in envy of the beautifully perfect individuals on your screen. The recipes that you saved to your phone labelled “fat free”, “gluten free”, “low calorie”. It’s waking up every morning and stepping on a scale. It’s repeating this action three times daily, crossing your fingers behind your back, hoping for a number lower than what was shown previously. It’s the aching in your empty stomach that you’ve learned to welcome. It’s the nights you went to bed with having eaten nothing but a serving of fruit.

It’s the plans that you cancelled on in realization that the calorie count was too high after having checked the menu. It’s the memories that you missed out on in favour of a fasted workout. It’s the concerns of your frightened friends and family that you shrugged off your shoulder because you were incapable of believing that there was anything wrong. It’s isolation and loneliness. It’s losing your mind to this crippling addiction, it’s your every thought from your waking breath to your sleeping sigh.

It’s the purple fingers, cracking skin and peeling lips. It’s the brittle and knotted hair that falls out in clumps to the floor. It’s the lightheaded feeling that you can’t seem to shake, the skin that bruises too easily, the nails that break under the slightest pressure. It’s the icy chill that cuts to your bones that no number of sweaters can warm. It’s the disappearance of your period because your body no longer has the fat and nutrients needed to menstruate. It’s losing the energy to exercise, to work, to study, to live. It’s waking up on a hospital bed hooked up to unfamiliar machines, surrounded by the concerned faces of doctors and nurses telling you that for a moment, you were almost dead.

It’s the forced recovery that seems like the hardest thing imaginable. It’s the internal battle that you could never imagine winning, the mountain that you could never imagine moving. It’s being told what to eat, how much to eat, and when to eat. It’s the food being shoved down your throat, the discomfort from a full stomach that contracted to almost nothing after having being empty for so long. It’s the weekly doctors appointments, being poked and prodded and weighed. It’s hating every inch and every pound that you’ve been forced to gain, it’s the demon in your head telling you to go back to your old ways. It’s the inevitable relapses, the constant battle to stay healthy, to avoid giving in. It’s the lingering thoughts that continue occupying a corner of your mind long after you’ve “recovered”. It’s the burden that’ll continue haunting you for years. It’s wondering if you’ll ever wake up one day completely free from the grasps of this disease.

But it’s also the overwhelming feeling of pride and satisfaction that accompanies any milestone in the recovery process. It’s eating that pizza or ice cream alongside laughing friends without feeling guilty or remorseful. It’s gaining back so many parts of your life that you forgot existed in the first place. It’s opening up to experiences, it’s making connections with friends new and old, it’s breaking free of chains that held you back for so long.

So for that friend, family member or classmate that you’ve noticed? If you’re wondering what you can do to help or if it’s even your place to intervene, to start a conversation that’s easier left unopened, just know that there’s not always a clear solution. But being a source of support can be the difference between taking a step in the right direction or continuing in a downward spiral. Often times, people suffering from mental illnesses feel isolated and trapped in their minds without having an outlet for open discussion. Mental illnesses are experienced uniquely by every individual and sometimes the most we can do is lend a listening ear or shoulder to lean on (and that’s okay). If you’re struggling with a similar experience or know someone that is, take comfort in knowing that you’re not alone. I’ve been there too and I can promise you this- it does get better.

***If you’re ever in need of that listening ear or shoulder to lean on, I want you to know that I’m here. Please feel free to contact me at any time (natasharamon14@gmail.com), I’m always open to having a chat :)