I was recently challenged with the notion that eating disorders are not as intense or similar to drug addiction or alcoholism. I’ve also been asked if eating disorders are more of a “discipline” rather than a “disorder” issue.
And then we have misconceptions about what eating disorders “look” like: only when are you very thin should you get help. When you are at a higher BMI number, you just need to “eat less and exercise more.”
Not exactly.
I came across Brittany’s blog about a year ago and found her eating disorder struggle similar to my own. Certainly, Brittany’s drastic weight fluctuation in a small amount of time is relatable to me as well as many more of us, and shows that the problem lies not in appearance, but in our attitude toward food. Just like me, Brittany is also in the process of getting a memoir published about her eating disorder experiences. I’m so glad Brittany was willing to share her journey as well as the struggles she still encounters on a daily basis, as I believe eating disorders should be monitored even in recovery.
My name is Brittany and I want to let you all know no matter what you are struggling with that there is always hope for a better life. For me, my major life struggle was with my weight and appearance. Growing up I was constantly bullied and teased and I never had a close friend; only acquaintances to say hi to so I didn’t seem like a complete and utter loser. I was always a great student and a very talented tennis player and horseback rider to top it off, but that didn’t matter. My self-esteem was nonexistent and every day I wondered what was so wrong with me that I didn’t fit in like everyone else. Instead of realizing there was nothing wrong with me other than I was shy and insecure, I turned my anger and sadness inward.
Q: Balance – If we don’t take care of ourselves, we aren’t as able to [take care of] others. It’s about finding balance so that you avoid extremes in diet and exercise. I know that people have commented that they want to know what diet you finally found that works best, and it makes me wonder if they are looking for answers for themselves. That’s a pretty tough question to answer because nutrition isn’t that cut and dry, and there is still a lot that we don’t know. Everyone thinks that they are an expert, and you can find great arguments that support almost any diet. That’s why I think balance and moderation is best. I’m curious to learn where you are at with this.
A: Perfectionists like me seem to want to go “all the way” with anything and everything. If a little bit is good, then a lot must be better. I think many runners and other athletes fall into this trap, too. You think, if I run this many miles, then ten more miles each week would make me even faster.
While that can be true, we perfectionists can escalate things quickly: Because I have enough discipline. Because I have enough willpower. Because I can force myself to do it.
When my mom suggested I cut down my portion sizes if I was uncomfortable with my weight, I figured I had to starve myself. After all, the way I ate at the weight I was at meant eating until I was full/content. To lose weight, I figured, meant I must go hungry.
Let’s say a friend chooses to order a salad while the rest of your friends order pizza. Is this friend restricting calories to lose weight? Or does he want a salad right now because pizza doesn’t sound appetizing at the moment?
Some people may eat in a way that makes others think, eating disorder.
But you can’t point to every raw foodist and claim they have an eating disorder. You can’t claim every vegan is masking a bigger problem. And you don’t want to assume that just because someone eats a seemingly balanced diet that they don’t have disordered eating. Some may eat in restrictive ways to avoid food allergies or find that they feel better eating this way, while others use “gluten intolerance” or “raw food diet” as an excuse to carry out their eating disorder behaviors in a more convincing way.
One of the biggest questions I get is about why I felt the need to follow a raw food diet as a collegiate cross country and track runner.
Nutrition was important to me from a young age because I wanted to eat well to run well–and I started running consistently when I was 5 years old.
I continued to run in middle school and high school. After years of competing against the best high school runners in the state, and losing some weight my senior year, I thought that weight loss helped me to run faster. That’s when food began to consume my life.
When I first heard about a raw food diet in college, I didn’t think it would be ideal for athletes. I told myself that I wouldn’t get enough protein or that I would be more susceptible to injury since I’d be missing out on protein and calcium. But my doubts about raw food slowly vanished when I wrote a paper on the topic for one of my classes (we could choose anything to research, and of course, I was drawn to food topics).
Much of the information I read in raw food books and on raw food websites convinced me that instead of being harmful to athletes, this diet could actually be helpful. And the wording changed as I dug deeper–this was not a “diet,” but a lifestyle.
Raw food forums and websites advertised this diet as a way to eat as much as you want. And as someone who thought that the only way I could eat “normally” meant I had to go a bit hungry after each meal, this was exciting. I could lose weight while eating as much raw food as I want? I could finally have an excuse to give up meat and run okay, if not better? I could give a “good” excuse and reason for only wanting the lowest-calorie foods? I could have the confidence to know I wouldn’t be deficient in minerals (according to the raw food gurus)?
What I didn’t realize was how unsatisfied I would feel eating just raw food. As I embarked on the diet, I blamed this feeling on my lack of discipline and “broken” appetite. But really, my intense cravings and eventual bingeing was a result of eliminating so many food groups. Years removed from my raw food diet, I understand why only eating raw fruits and vegetables wouldn’t feel very satisfying, and that my body was trying to tell me something.
All of this set me up for a rollercoaster of different diets, bingeing, and questioning food more than ever before. It also eventually sparked the realization that my odd relationship with food was called an eating disorder, and that I had something more to fix than food itself.
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2023 Reflection: If I had known it at the time, seeing a registered sports dietitian would have been the best way to help me with my relationship with food. Unfortunately, I didn’t know that seeing an RD would have been the answer, and no one recommended it. If anything, as I fell deeper into the rabbit hole of raw food, the more I was convinced an RD wouldn’t understand this “cure.” This situation highlights the importance of talking about disordered eating and how so many athletes could benefit from seeing a registered dietitian. You can find one in your area at eatright.org, or check out additional resources in this blog post:
This blog post shows how helpful a registered sports dietitian was once I did finally see one:
Now that I’m “all grown up” in my nutrition and cravings knowledge, I thought it’d be interesting to look back at my old food journal entries to point out “what went wrong” during those binges and intense cravings (for all the raw food journal entries posted on the website, go here). Why did I feel so out of control? What was I missing?
A whole lot, some of you say. You shrug. “Raw food. Not enough nutrition.”
Sure, to an extent. Raw food provides great nutrition from fruits and vegetables, but it isn’t sufficient. And I wasn’t eating enough food overall. I was scared of calories–even from raw food. I worried about eating too much fruit or fats from nuts and seeds.
Note: I am not a dietitian or medical professional. This is simply what worked well for me in recovery after working with a registered dietitian and therapist!
In the summer of 2010 I thought I could exert all the willpower in the world. I could restrict, could hold back on my deepest food desires. It was not easy, but at least I felt like I could control it.
When I began binge eating, I still wanted the control. I hungered for it. But there was something about food that suddenly took control over me now. Suddenly I couldn’t tell my body what to do.
This isn’t to say that I was like a zombie stumbling around the kitchen. I was aware of what was happening. But the cravings had never felt so strong, so constant, so life-consuming that I “needed” to get rid of them to function–just to get on with my day.