‘It’s OK to Not Be Perfect’ | Your Story
Your Story is a series in which you, the reader, are invited to be a guest writer on Your Friend Jane and share your own story, relating to mental health and personal growth.
Anonymous
(Trigger Warning: The following story discusses eating disorder behavior and drug use, which may be triggering to some readers.)
Year 1
I was just 15 years old when the insecurities began. I remember standing on toilets, granite counters and my bed in order to look at my whole body. We didn’t have a full length mirror in our home, so I resorted to extremes. I needed to know that I was okay.
I was a two-sport athlete: tennis and track. I was smart. I got good grades. Most importantly (or it was at the time), I had a body that many envied. But, deep down, I hated myself.
Growing up, everyone commented on my body. “April, you’re so short! You’re so skinny.” Oh, and the classic “I can’t believe you ate all that!”
The funny thing about the comments is, they don’t mean that much when I first heard them. They’re just strange. Then, after many years, I questioned why I ate that much. Why did I get so tall? Why do I have hips?
Year 2
I was 16. I had a tennis instructor. She would stand behind me when I served. One day, I had a cut from shaving. She noticed and commented on it. I always shaved right before my lessons. She noticed everything. I felt that I had to conform by shaving my legs perfectly. She always told me that my body was enviable. She told me that her other students commented on mine. She would say things like “April, your legs are so long!” She would ask “how much do you weigh?” She would then say, “I weigh ___” and “I wish I had your body.”
I loved the praise. Tell me I’m beautiful. I would go home and boast to my mom. I never realized how insane it all sounded.
I started to struggle with obsessive “healthy” eating. I put that in quotes now, because what does healthy really mean? Right now, healthy means nourishing my body. When I was 16, it meant limiting my intake and avoiding certain foods. I would chastise myself whenever I binged, something that is so common when restricting.
Year 3
I was 17. I was rising to new heights in sports. I had risen to the top of the tennis team. Parents of the athletes asked my mom how I got so good. The truth was, I was constantly thinking about tennis and track. During tennis tryouts, I wrote my scores down for every match. I wrote down strategies for beating every girl on the team. I was obsessed.
In order to fit the image of an athlete and of the April I had always been known as, I had to stay in excellent shape. Nighttime binging was a daily occurrence. I would eat until my body felt like it was going to explode. During the daytime, I would run miles to compensate. I don’t know if I was even aware of it at the time. It was subconscious.
Year 4
I was 18. College was coming my way. I was going to school far away and in a warm climate. I needed to look good. I had a ton of colorful little mini shorts I would wear when I got there. I needed to be dainty and cute.
Year 5
I was 19. This was a rough year for me. My disordered thoughts about my body slowly went out the window. I was fixated on other things: drugs. I slipped into drug addiction during my sophomore year of college. I lost friends, hurt others and, most importantly, hurt myself. When I was high, I could do whatever I wanted. I could eat whatever I wanted without guilt. I looked in the mirror and, for the first time in my life, I loved my body.
I realized that I was gay. I came out. I believed that drugs helped me do that. All the shame was gone. Didn’t drugs do that?
Year 5 1/2
I need to write about this half of a year. It matters.
Drug addiction escalates quickly. I went from loving myself to being so confused about who I was. What did I want? Who did I want to be? Did I want to lie constantly? I could barely look at myself. When I did, I saw a fragile, confused 19 year old. She was hiding from the world. No one really knew who she was. Her exterior was edgy. She would curse you out if you questioned her drug use.
Year 6
I was 20. My sophomore year was over, and I decided to come home. I didn’t realize I would take a whole year off trying to get sober. Yes, I tried to get sober. Can you believe it? Neither could I.
I went to treatment in May. I wasn’t really ready. That was evident when I left treatment and relapsed a few weeks later. I then surrendered at an AA meeting. I met a woman who would become the most important person in my life. I started to be honest for the first time in my life.
Year 6 1/2
Drug addiction escalates quickly, but recovery moves fast too. Life was slowly starting to change. However, I resorted to using old behaviors. Lying, stealing and then, ultimately, getting high. I went to treatment, yet again, with a little more desperation.
When I started to get sober again, my eating disorder came to the foreground again. I just wanted to lose a little weight. I restricted a little. I loved the results. I spiraled. I ate less and less, until I was practically eating nothing.
I hurt just about everyone important in my life. My parents, my sister, my sponsor, my friends: everyone. I was lost.
Year 7
I was 21. I celebrated my 21st birthday six months sober.
I decided to go to treatment for my eating disorder. I was miserable. I hated myself more than I ever had before. I could not even look at myself. Going to treatment gave me the ability to look at myself. I still didn’t like what I saw. Everyone told me I would be okay. I slowly became more okay. I would call my sponsor every day with another epiphany. I discovered and uncovered so much. I had grown.
I left treatment in a better place than I thought I could be at. I decided it was time to go back to school. I transferred to a school closer to home.
Year 7 1/2
A lot happened since I left treatment. My eating disorder quieted down a little bit, but I still struggled with using behaviors. I didn’t realize that I was still active in it.
On the outside, things were great. I was in a good relationship. I celebrated a year clean and sober. I was doing great in school. I had true friends for the first time in my life. This was the happiest I've ever been. It wasn’t perfect. Maybe that was okay.
Year 8
22 years old. 18 months clean. I started seeing a dietitian for the first time. I needed more help than I thought. I couldn’t do it alone, something that my fellow recovering addicts and alcoholics had been telling me for years. The dietitian helped a lot. I could cope with my feelings without restricting or binging. Finally.
I went back to school in August. I didn’t continue with a dietitian. I no longer needed help, in my opinion. I slowly eased into old behaviors. It was okay. It wasn’t unmanageable. I was fine. School was going well. Yes, I was depressed, but who isn’t? I had good friends. I celebrated two years clean.
Year 8 1/2
COVID-19 happened. My life was uprooted, and I was sent back home. My life, and everyone else’s, was filled with uncertainty. I turned to the one thing that gave me comfort — my eating disorder. In April of 2020, I relapsed hard in my eating disorder. It quickly became unmanageable. I was back to square one.
“No, I already ate.” “No, I’m not hungry.” I started to lie again, and this time I couldn’t stop. I was so aware that I was doing it. That’s what six years of therapy will do to you.
However, awareness doesn’t equal action. I sunk deeper.
I graduated in May of 2020 with so much uncertainty. I was unemployed, living with my parents and alone. I had no idea what I was doing with my life. I felt like I was wasting away in my eating disorder.
I relapsed in my drug addiction in July of 2020. I believe that my eating disorder led to much of it. AA and NA have long written that substituting one behavior for another releases the addiction all over again. My eating disorder released my addiction. There was no going back.
I lost myself in just five days from the end of July to the beginning of August.
I was emotionally bankrupt. At this point, I knew I needed help. I got honest about everything, including my eating disorder. Yes, I did it.
Year 9
I went to treatment for my eating disorder. This time, I shipped myself off to a residential program in Boston. I had never been at a level of care this high. There was so much uncertainty. I remember packing clothes and asking myself “will this fit when I leave?” Thoughts like this led to many tears. I was angry. I was scared. I didn’t know what to expect.
When I got to residential, everything was different. There were so many rules. I realized that the rules I created for myself never worked. I might as well try someone else’s, right?
Every day was filled with hours and hours of therapy. I had never stared at myself for so long. I never looked at myself so intensely without using a behavior. I wanted drugs. I wanted all the food or no food at all. I wanted something to stop the pain. I continued to work on myself, and suddenly, I realized I could survive without that “something.”
Coming Home
I left residential treatment about a month ago. I’m not whole, and I’m not healed. I am, however, a whole lot better than I was before residential. It took so much work and so much pain. It’s been worth it. I’ve known fear, guilt, shame, sadness and, most importantly, joy. It’s been a wild ride. I hope that I can share my story, as I am right now. Today, I don’t need to hide. I don’t need to be small, literally and metaphorically. I can be me.
A New Chapter
I am 23 1/2. I am not starting over. I don’t believe that one ever gets a clean slate. I am starting a new chapter. Maybe this year will be different. I am desperate for change. I do need help. I know I do. I now have more skills than I ever thought I would. I am slowly learning how to sit with myself. I’ve learned that mindfulness is hard but that I’m a work in progress. It’s okay not to be perfect. I continue to pray for serenity and joy through the tough moments. I am currently continuing in an eating disorder program from home. I’m hoping this time will be different. Maybe I’ll be okay. For just today, I am okay.
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