Franki’s Story

My story may seem familiar to you. You may find there are bits and pieces you can relate to, or may have experienced yourself. But none of it was familiar to me when it started at the very young age of twelve. This is a story about my experience with something we may all have once referred to as ED. Despite my struggles with ED, my experience has made me into the person I am today. Now to those who don’t know what I’m referring to when I say the name: ED, I’m talking about my eating disorder; anorexia nervosa. When telling my story, I am going to refer to my journey as this name, for it was something that stuck with me throughout the whole experience; both the traumatic parts and the rewarding ones. I am going to share as much as I can for the time I have with you all and hopefully you will find at least one piece that resonates. When thinking back on this journey and the pain and distress that it caused me, I still push aside any feelings of resentment since I look back at it as a deep learning experience.

To start off, I am going to tell you all a little bit about myself. My name is Francesca (Franki for short) and I am a rising junior in college. I am a very independent, determined, and strong-willed young woman who is always striving for better. Now, I’ve purposely used the word “better” because the word “perfection” got me into the whole mess with ED in the first place.

Ever since I was a small kid, I was always told that “Nobody is perfect”, but my brain did not agree. I believed there really was such a thing as a perfect person, a perfect body, a perfect weight, a perfect life; news flash: I was perfectly wrong. As a kid, everyone praised my confidence. I didn’t much care about what people thought about me and did whatever I wanted to; I exuded positivity, love and the ability to speak freely. My parents often shared a story that has stuck with me to this day. Wherever we would go, I would tell everyone that I loved them; and when I say everyone I mean everyone: grocery store employees, restaurant waiters, strangers walking by me on the street, I loved everyone. I was such a happy kid. I found the joy in little things. I loved to entertain, to make countless friends and make people laugh. That was until I entered the incredibly scary world of middle school.

Middle school meant kids getting older, personalities changing, and most importantly bodies changing. I was already more developed than my friends in the growth sense, and that was something that really freaked me out. I started to compare myself to my peers, who genetically speaking were completely different than me. No matter how hard I tried, I wouldn’t and couldn’t look like them. Growing up I played soccer and danced competitively which consisted of a group of girls with all different body types working together. Naturally, I compared myself to these girls in my ability to do these activities, while also and sometimes even more diligently comparing my body to theirs. I found that I was angry and frustrated with myself that I did not look like my peers. This affected the way I played soccer and danced because I was constantly striving for that unrealistic level of “perfection” in all aspects of the world.

My comparison to other people got so bad that I was at the point where I thought that I had to change my lifestyle and mindset in order to be just like them. This was the first step that led me into a dangerous illness and when ED entered the picture. My mood started changing. I wasn’t the happy, confident, loving girl that I used to be because I was angry or in this case…hangry. I found myself getting frustrated at small things that I used to never even think twice about. I also found myself harming relationships because of the way that I treated people while I was struggling with this illness; Here’s the scariest part of all: I didn’t know how to stop. The night that my parents found out that I was struggling was something I would have never expected. It happened at a dinner with my mom, my best friend and my best friend’s mom. We planned this dinner date as a fun night to go out in Boston and get delicious food before going to a dance performance that we had all bought tickets to. As we were beginning dinner, my best friend noticed the fear and shame on my face. My mom, oblivious at the time that I had been having these struggles because she was not with me at lunchtime at school, had a confused look on her face. And that’s when it all came out. “Franki has been dealing with something, and she needs help”, my best friend blurted out to all with no hesitation. My face got red, my heart dropped. I was caught. Concerned faces were all that I could see at that moment and I didn’t know what to do. I immediately ran to the bathroom and started to cry, my best friend following shortly after me. The rage and betrayal that I felt towards her at that moment is something that later turned into gratefulness. No matter how mad I was at that moment, she had saved me. Out of the blue and in front of everyone, she said the words I was so afraid to say myself.

Immediately after that night, my parents thought that it would be a good idea to see my doctor. The thought of this terrified me. What would they say to me? What would they make me do? As we parked the car and headed into the doctor’s office, I felt as if my heart was beating out of my chest. When getting my vitals taken, the fear in my parents’ eyes brought tears to my eyes. What have I done? Something that seemed so small to me had turned into something huge. I remember how awkward the car ride was home. No words were spoken, and the only noises that were coming out of anyone’s mouths were sighs and reactions of disbelief. It’s as if everyone was frozen in place.I did not want to talk to anyone. I wanted to go into my room, alone, and think about what would happen from here. What would be different? So when we got home I went to my room, closed my door, and shut my eyes; unknowingly that I would be in this predicament for a while with ED by my side.

When I got into my room , I tried to think, but my mind was racing. I was not only scared, but I was disappointed in myself for not seeking out help because I knew that my support system was stronger than ever. However, I was sick, and I needed this help to bring me back to the strong, happy, and confident girl that I once was.

I needed an action plan. I needed to get help immediately, so my parents raced me to MEDA after serious consideration between different Eating Disorder treatment facilities. And after all these years, I still look back and know that this moment, this relationship with MEDA, was the exact first step needed in my recovery. I found it liberating to talk about what I was feeling with people other than my parents and opening up to someone that I formed a close relationship with. I never felt judged, and I knew that the people there wanted to help me become the girl I once was, and even more importantly, I knew that I wanted to be that girl once again too. I’ll never forget the words used when speaking to me; “you’ve lost your sparkle”. I found those words to be the most relatable of all. My sparkle was missing. It was hidden beneath the anxiety, the worry, the comparison to others. It was hidden by ED. After many hours talking to my individual therapist, my eating disorder brain was telling me that I was getting better; however I wasn’t. The thing about ED is that it tricks you into thinking things that aren’t true; which is how I got in this messy situation in the first place. I knew I needed to get better, but I felt hopeless since it wasn’t happening quick enough. I worried that all of my hard-work and countless therapy sessions weren’t making the ED voice go away. I came to realize later that it takes much longer than you think to change the way you process things when that voice is ever present and directing you to do the opposite of what feels healthy.

I continued to meet with my individual therapist and then was told that it wasn’t enough. I now needed to meet with a nutritionist, a clinical psychiatrist, a family counselor and enroll in an intensive outpatient program where I would go to a facility 3 days a week for 3 hours each day. Yes, I know, it was a whole lot of doctors and a whole lot of therapy. As a 12 year old, going to this intensive outpatient program was extremely scary being surrounded by people much older than me and the fact that I was being told to meet with all of these different professionals made me think there was something even more serious going on and that was an overwhelming feeling. I knew that I needed to look at myself in the mirror and declare that something needed to change. This needed to come from within. I met with a series of doctors. Some were great and some really understood me. And some weren’t the right fit for me. I later learned that this happens and finding someone you connect with was essential. MEDA was there throughout like a constant drumbeat of support while I met with the rest of my team.

At one point I changed psychiatrists to find someone who was better suited to my needs and the first thing he said to me which stuck with me throughout my whole journey was: What does recovery mean to you? When these words came out of his mouth I was stuck. How was I supposed to know? I was a kid with no past experience of struggles and recovery to lean on. I faintly remember my joyful way of living but it was so distant I didn’t know how to get back there, let alone describe it. I was severely struggling at the time and didn’t know what recovery meant to me, or what I would gain from being fully recovered; which I can confidently tell you all about now.

What does recovery mean to me? As a 20 year old girl who has been in recovery for 8 years now I can say that not all recoveries are the same and not all recoveries are linear. Like many people, I had numerous ups and downs but it was important to me that after the many downs that I faced, and there were a few, I continued fighting because I wanted to recover. One of the things that have always been important to me was going to every event with my friends. Since I was a little kid, I always had something called FOMO which I know a lot of people my age still struggle with. When I was struggling with my eating disorder, there were many times where I had to miss out on certain events such as going away on a weekend trip to Cape Cod, or having dinner with my friend group because I wasn’t to be let out of sight with my parents regarding food intake; That was when I needed to re-feed and every bite was important for my health. I remember when my best friend had asked me to go away with her to visit her Cape Cod house for the weekend, and the disappointment that I felt when my parents told me that I couldn’t go because of what I was going through at the time and I was obligated to go to my outpatient program 3 days each week. I wasn’t even able to go to my P.E. class because I was too sick to do so or eat lunch with my friends because I had to sit with my guidance counselor in a small room to make sure that I was eating every day . Now that I am fully recovered 8 years later, I have the privilege to experience these events with my friends whenever I want, without the fear that I won’t be “allowed” to go because my physical well being could be in jeopardy. I am free to live my life, within reason of course. That was a huge driving factor in my recovery. The feeling of freedom. Knowing that I could see my friends, enjoy meals with them, and do what teenagers are developmentally inclined to do. The thing about freedom is that I get to decide. If I want to go hang out with my friends, I go. If I don’t, I won’t. The other thing about recovery is that I feel good. I feel strong and healthy and exercise is no longer a means to a number on a scale, but it’s a means to having the energy and strength to be at my best everyday. Fueling myself is a joy and a privilege that I don’t take lightly.

I am also a much happier person without the nagging voice in my head telling me that I need to change.  My relationships have become stronger since I am able to be my authentic self. That gives me the strength and determination I had been missing for years. As I talked about in the beginning of my presentation, I was born to love everyone and anyone, no matter who it was, but it wasn’t until now that I grew to love myself. And that is what recovery means to me. Loving myself, being there for myself, and recognizing the power and strength from within that helped me get through this traumatizing experience. There was a time where I thought I could never get over this hump, and that I would live with an eating disorder forever, but with much needed therapy, inner-strength, and a support system that I am so grateful for, I was able to return to being the confident, happy, and loving girl that I was born to be. Recovery is possible. I finally believe that now. Although there may seem like there is no light shining at the end of the dark tunnel that you may be facing right now, I am living evidence to show you that you will get there, and I can confidently say that I am so happy to be at the place where I am today talking to each and everyone of you, hoping that my story can make an impact and that you can start looking for your sparkle once again.