100 Pounds Later, I'm Still Healing..

Trigger Warning -
This post discusses eating disorders. If this topic may be triggering for you, please take care of yourself first. You don't owe anyone your discomfort. If you choose to keep reading, I hope you do so gently.

I love you, 

— K ❤️

—

The other day, I went to an indoor amusement park. Overall, I had a great time, but my experience was also exactly what I expected it to be and it was and is exactly why I usually avoid places like that.

Since I was 15 years old, I've lived with binge eating disorder. And even today, it's something I continue to navigate. Therapy has helped me tremendously, and I've come a long way in healing my relationship with food. But healing doesn't erase the struggle it just gives me better tools to face it. So, I've worked hard to change my relationship with food, and I've made progress that I'm incredibly proud of. But healing isn't something you check off a list one day and never think about again. It's a choice I have to make over and over and over again.

Some days are easier than others and unfortunately that day wasn't one of them.

After leaving the amusement park, I found myself sitting in a buffet, fighting a battle that no one else at my table could see. One part of me wanted to honor the progress I've made. And the other part wanted to eat until I felt numb, hoping for just a few moments of relief from the dopamine my brain was craving.

If you've never experienced binge eating disorder, that struggle may sound so dramatic. But when you live with an eating disorder, food can become so much more than food.

It becomes comfort.

It becomes an escape.

It becomes a punishment.

It becomes relief.

Over the last two years, I've lost nearly 100 pounds, and I'm incredibly proud of that accomplishment. But moments like this remind me that healing isn't measured only by the number on a scale.

Walking through that amusement park, I found myself wondering if I had done enough. Would I fit? Would people stare? Would I be able to participate like everyone else? And for some of the questions I had, they shortly became my reality and I couldn’t enjoy some of the things everyone else was able to enjoy. I cried and I mean I cried hard, like boohoo crying, snot running down my face and more and I had to pray for comfort in that moment and return like nothing happened. Something I think most of us may be familiar with. 

As I’ve reached adulthood, I never was the girl who was ashamed of my size. I love every inch of me but all of a sudden, emotions I never felt before came rushing and it caused me to spiral. It wasn't just embarrassment I felt, it was shame. And shame has always been one of the loudest voices behind my eating disorder. So, before I knew it, those feelings had followed me to the dinner table.

That's the thing about eating disorders. They don't always disappear just because your body changes. Sometimes the voice in your head changes much more slowly.

I'm sharing this because I know I'm not the only one.

Recently, I watched one of my favorite creators, Daven—better known as Queen of Whimsy—share her experience online after people mocked her for something as simple as a snack plate with grilled cheese. The comments were cruel. People made assumptions about her health, her choices, and her worth without knowing the battle she was fighting.

It broke my heart because I've been there and I’m still there.

People often believe they're commenting on food, but what they're really doing is speaking into someone's struggle. They don't know if the meal they're criticizing is the only thing that person could manage to eat that day. They don't know if that plate represents survival instead of failure.

Kindness literally costs nothing, but cruelty can cost someone EVERYTHING.

Anyway, I say all of this to say, If you're reading this and you're fighting an eating disorder—whether anyone knows it or not—I want you to hear this:

You are not weak.

You are not disgusting.

You are not your diagnosis.

And you are certainly not defined by what you ate today.

Healing isn't a straight line. There will be days when the eating disorder feels louder than your own voice. There will be days when old habits try to convince you they've always been safer. But every time you choose to keep going, to show yourself compassion instead of shame, you're making progress.

Maybe no one else can see that battle.

But I do.

And I'm not only proud of you for fighting it but I'm proud of you on the days you feel like you've lost the fight, too. One difficult day doesn't erase your progress. One binge doesn't erase your healing. You are still worthy of love, compassion, and another chance tomorrow.

Because in this journey, one thing I am learning during this battle I face everyday is I have to be kind to myself. That moment when my emotions got the best of me, I talked down to myself really bad and I hurt my own feelings. I had to take a moment to reflect later on, that if this was someone else, I would never speak to them the way I spoke to myself.

So if you're reading this after a hard day, after a binge or whatever it may be, after looking in the mirror with disappointment, or after believing the lie that you'll never be enough, I hope you'll give yourself the same kindness you'd give someone you love.

You deserve that kindness.

We all do.

So to the fat girl (or guy or them) reading this...

The one who thinks they ruined everything because today was hard.

The one who keeps promising themselves tomorrow will be different.

The one who's exhausted from fighting a battle no one else can see.

Please don't give up on yourself.

Be gentle with yourself.

Speak to yourself with kindness.

Healing isn't about being perfect. It's about choosing to come back to yourself, again and again, even after the hard days.

I love you.

And I hope one day you'll love yourself enough to believe every word I've written.

With love,

K ❤️