Second Guest Post!

First of all, I would like to say that this next individual has absolutely astounded me with her bravery and strength in writing this post. She is a beautiful woman, and one that I am very honored to know, because I know from experience when you are in the midst of an eating disorder or disordered eating behavior, it is so difficult to 1) Recognize that what you are doing is negative, and 2) To write about it in such a candid way. So, props to the wonderful Caitlin!


I was asked to write a guest post for my dear friend’s blog. Being the person that agrees to do things without pause, I said yes, even though I had not looked at her blog. Then I did. And I was glad I agreed.

(Just to clarify, I am in NO WAY a great writer. But, I figured if I just wrote honestly and wrote what I was feeling, it would turn out decent enough)

I am a ballet dancer, who, up until about 3 months ago, was completely dead set on being a professional ballet dancer.

Despite the fact I have quite the voluptuous ass.

Always have. Always will.

Ballerinas aren’t supposed to have an ass. Well, I guess they can, as long as the ass doesn’t go above a size x and can squeeze into an itty bitty tutu.

And that is not me. I am between a size x and x... mostly x. But 4 when I’m eating healthy and exercising.

A long time ago, I used to not have any body issues at all, even though I was still dancing. But I was so in love with ballet, that it never occurred to me I didn’t have the body.

And that all changed when my former director told me I didn’t have the ballet body. That I was too heavy below the waist.

Okay, okay. Let me go ahead and say this. For a 5’6” female, I am not overweight. I’ve never been overweight (well, freshman year, I was right on the brink…but I’ll come back to that later).

But hearing that from someone that could help you achieve your dream? (he didn’t, actually…that was another teacher I had that never said anything to me about my body).

It hurt.

But more than it hurt, it pissed me off. So much, that to spite him, and all the other ballet teachers I encountered in high school that gave me crap about my body, I did nothing to change it. I carried on as normal. Danced my heart out. Ate whatever the hell I wanted.

By senior year of high school, I was auditioning for places left and right. And getting rejections left and right. It began to occur to me that it wasn’t my skill they were rejecting…but my body. Rejections suck (there’s not really an eloquent way to put it). So, when I got this little packet from a little women’s college (that I only applied to because a) my parents made me apply to colleges and b) it was free) that had not only warmly accepted me, but was offering me scholarships to attend? Suddenly I wasn’t rejected…not in the least. In my glee, I jumped on the opportunity, went and visited the college, fell in love with it, and before I knew it I was all graduated and moving in to my new home.

“What about ballet?” you may ask. I decided to enroll in the pre-professional division of the local, nationally recognized ballet school. I know…I’m like a dog with a bone. I just couldn’t let the ballet thing go.

Of course, I hated the ballet. I hated the atmosphere. So I stopped going.

And of course, I loved school. I had a best friend, things to do, stuff to learn, and I found what really interested me academically: Psychology.

And along with school, came something that I had never really encountered outside of my ballet filled life. And that was a lack of complaining or obsessing over bodies. Eating whatever one wanted (especially when stressed, which occurred quite a bit due to the academic nature of the school).  Not looking at yourself in a mirror everyday in nothing but a leotard and tights. So I joined in on this new way of looking at food.

Some time later, my jeans stopped fitting me. It was alright, I just bought new ones, and thought nothing of it.

Then I made the mistake of going to ballet for the first time in the two months since I’d been engulfed in the college life. Believe me, seeing yourself a few pounds heavier in a leotard and tights really kills one’s confidence and self-esteem.

So, of course, to deal with this, I ate. I’m an emotional eater. If I’m having any kind of negative emotion, I eat to make myself feel better. This is bad. And something I still struggle with. A lot.

 My weight gain reinforced quitting ballet.

And thus began the Great Disordered Eating Struggle of Freshman Year. I would be anorexic one week, and a binge eater the next. I tried to keep myself from eating under x calories a day, and the next day would probably eat more than x. I started taking diet pills. Never went to ballet. Never exercised. Went into a depression. Gained that x pounds. I started, for the first time in my life, to actually hate myself.

The summer after, I went to a ballet program in New York. I lost all x pounds, started becoming muscular, and found my passion for ballet again. But I knew I’d never look the same as I did in high school. I was still a size x, and my ass, though a bit smaller and way more muscled, was still very much present.  When I went back for my sophomore year of college, I started taking the adult open classes at ballet instead of doing the school. There was a lot more freedom. A lot less judgment. It was all about dancing for the love of dancing. I continued eating healthy like I had over the summer, started making better choices in the dining hall. I was actually happy.

I moved to Alabama the next year for the opportunity to dance with a professional company. Not officially, but I enrolled in their school and got to be in their productions and take company class. I had lost even more weight over the summer, and was told how I good I looked by the director of the company.

I was so happy to actually get a compliment about the way I looked, that I stopped eating. I started restricting myself way more than I had before. With the increase in how much dance I did, I decreased how much I ate. And for the first time, I thought I looked like I was supposed to. I didn’t hate myself…I loved myself. Subconsciously, I knew I was anorexic. But to not hate myself for the first time in 2 years? It was quite the reinforcement to continue my anorexic way of eating. Or not eating. I was happy…who cared?

Then, in all my glee and happiness about what I was doing, my boyfriend of 2 years broke up with me. I loved him. He broke my heart. He broke my will to live in any kind of constructive way.
I could no longer push myself to go to ballet. I hit a depression like I never had before. And to cope, I tried eating. Only, this time, I lost all control. I could no longer control my emotional eating. Before, I had been able to stop. This was no longer the case. When I finally was so full that I had to stop, I was filled with such self-loathing and regret at what I had done, that for the first time in my life, I purged. This pattern continued for months. I gained weight. I no longer cared about anything. Not school, not ballet, not the way I looked. I obviously wasn’t loved by him…so how could I love myself?

I was so disillusioned.

I kept dancing, but due to the binging and purging, was losing energy, and thus getting out of shape. I had no friends in Alabama, was taking frequent trips to see my friends in Atlanta, and in my loneliness and self-loathing, continued developing my eating disorder.

Now I know what you’re thinking. Why didn’t I get therapy? As a psychology major with a desire to be a therapist, it almost feels silly to go to therapy. I mean, shouldn’t I be able to help myself?
No.
When I went home for Christmas, binging and purging was no longer an option.  I was finally around people that were watching me eat. Which meant I was forced to eat healthy, and not an exorbitant amount of food. I cried to my mom lots, but I could feel myself getting out of the habit of binging. I had friends around me. I wasn’t alone. I didn’t need to binge and purge. And I felt better.

But, a return to school meant a return to loneliness. And a return to being able to binge. Yes, I am still struggling with bulimia. Yes, I am now thinking about getting professional help.  I’m returning to Atlanta where my friends and some family are, and where there’s a school I actually love. I’m going to dance for the sheer love of dancing, and not as a career.

I’m still hating my body. I won’t lie. Just because I’ve made important decisions regarding my life doesn’t mean my body image issues have disappeared. And, it’s not even really hating the way I look. It’s hating myself for what I do to my body. Binging and purging is not healthy. I know this. I have an interest in medicine, I’m a psychology major, and it’s not like we haven’t discussed eating disorders in my class. I know what it’s doing to me. I know how I’m hurting myself. But it’s difficult to just stop.

I know I’m not the only one out there dealing with this. I’ve been actively trying to love my body, and myself, everyday. I’ve been trying to eat balanced, nutritious meals (I was once told to think of food as nothing but fuel for my body…it kind of works to improve any unhealthy eating. At least for me). Lots of veggies and fruits, not so much processed foods with sugar, more natural stuff. Not because it’ll make me thinner, but because it’s better for my body.  Also, each day I try to find one thing about myself that I like, and tell myself exactly why I like it.  I usually write it down and stick it on my bathroom mirror so I see it all the time.

Also, this time, some of the self-loathing is stemming from something a little different than how I look. It’s coming from the fact that I haven’t been active in quite some time. I haven’t worked out, haven’t danced. I hate that I haven’t been active, and my body feels like it’s falling apart. Which I guess is better than being unhappy with how I look. So now my goal is to make myself get back in shape. I hate being out of shape.

I really wish I had some sort of successful ending to my struggle with food and body image issues. One where I love myself unconditionally and have fixed my issues. I could make one up, to be inspiring, but I’m not going to do that. It would be lying.

I guess, really, the most important thing is to love yourself for who you are. I’m not talking about the way you look. I’m talking about your personality. What makes you, well, you.  I love my personality, to be honest. I think I'm generally a kind, caring, introverted individual with a penchant for sarcasm. Feeling good about oneself is difficult, especially in this society. We’re almost programmed by culture and media to not be happy with ourselves (how we look, what we do…anything about ourselves).  And no one is going to love themselves 100% of the time.  But enough of the time to where we can all be confident with everything about us?  Be strong, courageous, ass-kicking women who love themselves?  That’d be pretty damn awesome.