Abby’s Story

My name is Abby, I am almost 8 years recovered from an eating disorder. I have been

wanting to share my story for a long time. I attended so many Hope & Inspiration talks

throughout my struggle, and a few years into full recovery I knew I wanted to share my

experience someday. For me, writing the last portion of my story was quite easy. I still clearly

remember the reasons I recovered and how I was able to do it, and how the way I live my life

now is ideal for myself and maintaining my recovery. On the flip side, being asked to dive

back in to the many experiences and factors that led to me developing an eating disorder in

the first place was not so easy to re-live and write about.

 

Myself, and my family I think, had a hard time understanding why this was happening to me

and to us when I was going through it. We were able to figure out the many factors and

experiences that contributed over time throughout treatment, but this is my first time laying it

all out in years. All that being said, I am here now to tell you my story, and give you hope that

it is possible to reach meaningful recovery and live a satisfying life. Not only is it possible, but

it is absolutely worth fighting for.

 

If you were to ask anyone who knew me as a child to describe what I was like, I can

guarantee one of the first words they would use is “sensitive”. I started preschool at an early

of age 3, and in the first parent-teacher conference they described me to my parents as “the

sweetest, and most sensitive little girl”. In addition to, or due to, being so sensitive I was also

a people-pleaser, and I was the type who took any bit of criticism very seriously, and very

much to heart. Anxiety is something that runs in my family, and was definitely noticeable in

me.

 

As a child, I always had an extremely difficult time being in situations that were out of my

comfort zone. I would cry and plead for my mom not to leave me every single day at day-care

drop off. It was strange because the daycare provider was my mom’s longtime friend, my

sister and my cousin were both there, and it was a small group of children at a home just a

few miles from mine. Despite all the comfort factors, my anxiety persisted.

 

As a child I wore my pajamas everywhere, even to the beach. Yes, we have photos of me in

my long-sleeve long-pant thermal teletubby pajamas at the beach. I wore them to preschool

for the first year too, and to day-care of course.

 

Sleepovers? Big no from little Abby. Any movie except the wizard of oz or ET? Probably

not. I did watch the Lion King once as a kid, as when Mufasa died I vividly remember

sobbing to my dad about it because it felt so real to me and upset me so much.

 

Overall, home was my safe place as a kid. I think that’s why I hated going places without my

parents and wanted to be home all the time so badly. I lived with my mom, dad, sister, and

our dog Shammie.

 

Around the age of 6, my cousin Jonathan live\d with us for a while too. As I got older I found

out why; he had trouble with the law, drugs, and living with many family members prior to this

last-resort arrangement. My dad would wake up early to drive him to work each day, and

eventually Jonathan got his own apartment. Shortly after, apparently Jonathan got back into

drugs and ultimately passed away. What I remember most about it is my first grade teacher

pulling me out of class to ask if I was okay, and I just wanted to go back in the classroom to

avoid the topic.

 

 

In second grade, something happened that I didn’t fully understand and I blocked it out

of my mind for a very long time, but now that I am older I know it really affected me and my

confidence. A boy in my class had a crush on me, and all the other boys in the second grade

would taunt me saying very inappropriate things. It wasn’t just bullying, but basically sexual

harassment. It went on for months, my friends knew it was wrong, I knew it was wrong, but I

was so afraid to tell my parents or anyone else because I just knew the things they were saying

about me were “bad words”. The way the school handled it was what really took a toll on me.

When the principal found out she spent the whole day calling me and every boy down to the

office, this lasted for hours, from lunch time until dismissal. Every kid knew what it was about

and it was absolutely humiliating. When I got home that day, I said nothing, but I figured

someone must know. My mom, my dad, my sister, it caused such a disruption in school that

SOMEONE must know. They were all acting completely normal, and my 8 year old self went to

bed that night, for the first time in my life thinking “wow, nobody cares”. The next morning first

thing my principal called me down and handed me a stack of about 30 notes, apology notes

from every boy in my grade.

 

My mom worked late that day, so it was just my sister and I home after school. I sat in the

bathroom reading all the notes crying, so embarrassed, ashamed and feeling like no one

cared about me. I threw them all in the trash and figured that was it.

 

The next day after school, my mom came to me so upset saying “if any boys or anyone says

anything that makes you uncomfortable, you need to tell us.”

 

This situation is one I blocked out for so long I didn’t even remember the full thing until I was

in my 20s. But after it happened, I constantly felt vulnerable and judged for the rest of the

time i spent in that school, and any school in general.

 

Speaking of judged, second grade was also when I started competing in gymnastics. I tried

out at a club gym nearby to assess where I was at, and I made the novice team. Gymnastics

was my first love; I ate, slept, and breathed gymnastics. My parents tried to keep me in

soccer so I could be “well rounded”, but I just wanted to do gymnastics. I was anxious and a

people-pleaser by nature, so it didn’t take much for me to become an overall perfectionist in a

sport that seeks perfection.

 

Around 5th grade I briefly saw a counselor because I had trouble sleeping. And by trouble I

mean I would NOT go to bed. I fully believed sleep was a waste of time. Even at the

elementary/middle school age I wanted to stay up until 11pm studying because I didn’t think

going to bed was worth it.

 

I hit puberty a bit earlier than the other girls around me. This is especially where, looking

back, gymnastics was my downfall, and the real basis of how i I became insecure. I got taller

faster than the other girls my age, and was having to adjust my normal equipment settings on

events like the girls who were a few years older than me had to. At the time, being a gymnast

was looked at, in my eyes, like you ‘had to be tiny’, or at least ‘lean and fit’. Getting my period

in sixth grade felt detrimental to me. I didn’t tell my mom and tried to hide it from everyone

because I thought those body changes would hurt me in my sport, and I hadn’t heard of any

of the other girls on my team getting theirs yet. Early in seventh grade a friend told me she

got her period, and when I said I had gotten mine too she said, “I’m surprised, most gymnasts

don’t get it until much later”, and her saying that confirmed all of my fears.

 

I started feeling depressed in seventh grade, and it progressed worse into eighth grade. I still

don’t know why it started. Of course I just explained to you the bad experiences I had, but

aside from that my life was great. I had the most supportive parents and sister in the world

who were always there for me. I had so many friends in school and at the gym. I was

constantly told I was funny, talented at art and gymnastics, and I was a straight-A student. I

had no idea what was wrong with me that I felt so sad and hopeless.

 

I was feeling so much sadness and anxiety in eighth grade, I had opened up and talked about

feeling worthless to one of my friends, I was self harming without anyone knowing, and was

at the point I wanted to ask for help. Right before I was going to ask for help, someone in my

town in the grade above me took his own life. It was hard for everyone, it was hard for me to

hear about even though I didn’t know him well. When this happened, all of a sudden

everyone was depressed, everyone said they understood him because they felt the same

way, and everyone was self-harming, everyone was dealing with these dark thoughts. I

thought to myself, oh, so all these things i’m feeling and doing are totally normal. Why would I

think otherwise because from what I was hearing, everyone felt this way, right?

 

The Summer going into high school is when my depression and anxiety began to intensify,

and the first symptoms of my eating disorder emerged. After believing puberty had made me

too big, I decided I wanted to “be healthier” and “get more toned”. Hyperfixating on diet and

exercise spiraled out of control the first few months of my freshman year of high school. My

eating disorder behaviors became more severe. I was drenched in feelings of shame, guilt,

sadness, and self-hate. I would feel endless amounts of guilt if I did not obey my eating

disorder. I truly believed I did not deserve to take up space and that the world would be better

off without me in it. These dark thoughts engulfed my brain, my eating disorder wanted me to

be its definition of “perfect” and would not accept anything less than that. I didn’t know this at

the time, but no matter how much weight I lost, it would never be enough to satisfy my eating

disorder.

 

November of freshman year began my first experience in treatment, and the beginning of my

recovery journey. I had been seeing a few providers for self-harm and depression related

issues, and they picked up on my ED behaviors. I went to see an ED specialist and after a

week she had my mom call to enroll me in an IOP, my first program. My mom made the

phone call outside the doctors office, and began to cry as she said the word “anorexia”. I

nearly rolled my eyes as I didn’t think I had a problem with food at the time. But as soon as I

started treatment, meal plans, exercise restrictions, and being monitored around the clock by

my family to prevent me from using ED behaviors or self harm, I quickly realized “okay,

maybe this is a problem”.

 

The first round of IOP led to partial, then back to IOP, then partial, then residential, then

inpatient, then partial, IOP…. I won’t go through every individual time, but you get the picture.

I spent my 4 years of high school in and out of different programs. The ones that helped the

most were family-based treatments, these helped my family members to understand not only

what I was going through, but it gave them the knowledge of how to feed and support me.

Having loved ones around, especially my parents and sister, monitoring me almost 24/7 was

the last thing my eating disorder wanted, but it was exactly what I needed.

 

Finding a great team of doctors, individual therapist, and endless CBT and DBT courses were

key in my healing. To this day I think CBT and DBT were extremely valuable in helping me cope

with daily life and communicate.

 

Outside of treatment, being around friends and family with healthy body-images and eating

habits was extremely helpful. For example, although vacations and non-routine days caused

stress, being with my family and joining them in 3 meals, and scattered snacks without even

thinking of it, just doing it, helped me realize it’s possible to eat normally without pre-planning

and over analyzing. Even seeing friends who may occasionally point out parts of their bodies

they disliked (as most teenagers do) helped in the long run, because it made me realize you

could be unhappy with parts of yourself, but not let those thoughts run your life. I tried to never

focus on self-love, it seemed irrational and out of reach for me. Instead, i I wanted to be like

other people who i I saw as “normal”. I never had a “lightbulb” moment that changed everything

for me. Close to the end of senior year, I was quite frankly sick of being sick. I was sick of not

being able to go to parties or on day-trips with my friends, leaving sleep overs early so I could

have a snack with my mom, and not being able to live my life because I had already missed so

much.

 

The fourth of July in 2016, shortly after I had graduated high school, is the day I consider my

full recovery started. I was at my Nana’s cape house with her, my mom and cousin. We went to

a restaurant I had always really liked in the past for a late lunch. For some reason, this day was

when I decided to dive in head first and give things a try. In treatment so many times if I was

struggling to eat a meal the counselors would say “why don’t you just try and see what

happens?”. I had used to think “I know what will happen, everything bad my eating disorder

tells me will happen is going to happen beyond worse than I could imagine. It will feel like the

world is ending.” This particular day at the restaurant, I decided to just try. I shared an appetizer

with my family, and ate a meal I really loved, but was a fear-food for what seemed like ages. As

we were waiting for the bill I sat there and nothing happened. NOTHING happened. I got to

enjoy one of my favorite foods again without thinking of weight, calories, or losing control. I

enjoyed the taste and getting to share food with loved ones again. I didn’t feel the need to

engage in behaviors, and I didn’t lose control. Every fear I had let take over my life for 4 years

did not come true. For the first time in years, I felt free.

 

Recovery happened for me when I took all the lessons I had learned and re-formed them in a

way that made sense to me. I don’t think recovery is necessarily “learning to love yourself” or

re-becoming the person you were before you got sick, but it is re-creating a brand new you who

you really like. I know I matter, I know I am a good person, and I deserve to be happy. I have

always been an artist, but throughout recovery I have begun to really pursue my love of

painting, even doing some professional work. I enjoy hiking and being in the peace of nature. I

have found leisurely hikes to be very calming for me, they help me stay active without risking

getting into an unhealthy exercise regimen, because I am more focused on taking in the

beautiful surroundings. I love taking weekend trips with friends and trying new things. I am able

to live independently in an apartment with roommates, cooking for myself and planning my own

meals (or ordering take out if I’ve had an exhausting day). I have learned to accept that I am a

sensitive person who requires a lot of down-time to avoid getting overwhelmed by the

unavoidable chaos of the world. I have learned to love how empathetic and compassionate i

am, seeing it as a strength and not a weakness.

 

Just because I have transformed into a person I am proud of and built a life I am grateful for,

does not mean my life is perfect. The hardest part of living in full recovery is finding healthy

ways to cope with the difficult, uncontrollable, and inevitable hardships that come with growing

up and living life. The use of mantras have been extremely helpful for me, I have a poster with

all of my favorite ones. There have been times where I will sit there and read them out loud

over and over. Or I will choose whatever ones from the list work for me in the moment, and say

them continuously. Learning to open up to family and friends and talk about my feelings has

made a world of difference instead of holding things in. Acceptance is a skill that takes work to

master, but learning to accept things as they are and know when I cannot change them, even if

I don’t like them, has been key in navigating my young adult life. Sitting with uncomfortable

emotions and dealing with uncontrollable circumstances used to make me spiral into my eating

disorder thoughts, but now I accept that it is a part of life, and I have a lot of things that are

important to me and make life worth living, no matter how bad the bads get. Practicing all of

these skills over and over has made them the automatic response for me. I have found strength

in myself and courage to take on anything life throws at me. This did not happen overnight, but

with commitment, patience, and the drive to be happy, it is possible for you too.