If you’re reading this, know it takes the time that it takes.
It sounds a little cliché, and I know I sure thought it was when I saw it written on every whiteboard and poster in treatment. Now, I realize this advice saved my life and will continue to give me hope when I feel lost, disconnected, and far from the trail I always hoped I would blaze for myself. I hope it can do the same for someone reading this.
Last year, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa and generalized anxiety disorder. The perfect daughter, student, friend, and athlete wasn’t as perfect as I had always dreamed her to be. And thank goodness she isn’t.
I’ve always been an extremely competitive person, whether that led to having the best school project, beating all the boys in the push up fitness test in middle school, or having the best style. It was always extremely disappointing for me when I didn’t live up to the “expectations” I thought were coming from others to always be a certain way.
Growing up, I was always reminded, “there is always going to be someone better than you at whatever it is, and that’s okay.” To me, it didn’t feel okay – why couldn’t I be the best? Going to college across the country, not knowing anyone, was something I wanted. I wanted to be taken for who I was, and not for how I looked like as a freshman in high school. It was engraved in my memory that people would never want to get to know me for my personality and passions unless my exterior appearance was good enough.
I came to college with high hopes of history never repeating itself and proving myself. The issue with this attitude is that, in reality, my worth was never in the hands of others. My ability to be a good friend or a tenacious student never depended on my appearance or how others perceived me. My self-worth comes from myself.
Comparisons and the drive to be better enveloped me. Suddenly, I found something I could control: my body. I challenged myself to do more and push myself harder every day. This made me feel strong. Eventually, what had seemed so hard became a habit – a habit I could no longer control.
That’s what eating disorders do; they manipulate you into thinking you have control when in reality you have the furthest thing from it. I didn’t know what to do. I was not living; I was getting by. I felt miserable, tired, and my body hurt. I was terrified. I knew I needed help, but I didn’t know how to ask for it or admit what was going on, in fear that I would hurt the people around me or be an inconvenience. Unfortunately, at the time, I didn’t know that if I truly wanted to give up the “control” I thought I had. Shame lives in secrecy.
I will forever be thankful to my friends and family for reaching out to me because I was too blinded by the ED voice in my head telling me to do more, or that I wasn’t sick enough, or that I did not deserve help. This is what eating disorders do. I was asked by a close friend at the lowest point in my life, “what will be enough for you?”. I pondered this question, and still ponder it to this day. Nothing. Nothing would have been enough for me, and that is what I needed to realize.
Before spring break, my parents came and supported me in seeking help. I felt helpless when I learned how much my body was suffering. I felt guilty for putting my parents through pain, for lying to them for months saying I was fine and not to worry. I had no idea how I had let it get this far. I wondered where it had gone wrong. I hope I can show people to not fear the people in your life and their concern. I, and anyone else, deserve the help and support of people who lend it.
I immediately went to treatment and took a medical leave of absence from school. I thought this was the end of the world. I thought I would have to drop out of the nursing school and that I had ruined the rest of my dreams, hopes, and ambitions. This was so far from the truth. I was beginning my journey to fully living them.
I spent a lot of sleepless and tear-filled nights wondering when things would get better. I wondered why this wasn’t easy and why it was taking so long. Nothing can be fixed the right and authentic way over night. Change takes time, exposure, repetition, and support. I watched snapchat story after story of friends having fun at school and wished I could be anyone but myself. Little did I know I had no idea who I really was.
The worst four months of my life I have now decided were the most important and valuable four months of my life. I learned that what I truly value in life is not how others perceive me, being perfect, or looking a certain way. I value connection with family and friends, learning, adventure in nature, vulnerability, and self-compassion. I realized that what I did was not a choice, and rather a coping mechanism for anxiety and not feeling like I had lived up to the expectations of myself or others. I learned that not all days are going to be perfect. Recovery, or anything in life for that matter, is not linear. It’s a dance; sometimes you are going to make progress and take a few steps forward, some days you are going to struggle and have to be present in the emotions and feelings instead of fighting them away. I learned that people love me for who I am, and if they don’t, then I don’t need to spend the time changing who I am or fighting to be something I am not.
I deserve this life. I deserve to be happy, to have energy, to go to school, be with friends, work my summer job, eat food at concerts, and go on late night ice cream runs. Life is too short and too full of love, memories, and experiences that are much more important than the way that I, or anyone else, physically looks. Everyone deserves this.
I am not alone, and neither are you. There is no “picture” of what struggling looks like. It is too often forgotten that people who may seem like they have it all together do not. Everyone goes through something. If I were to give advice to myself or anyone else who may be in a similar position, going through something difficult, or maybe wanting to reconnect with their personal values and self, I would say this: the strongest thing you can do is ask for help. Help is not for the weak. There will always be someone who you can reach out to talk to, whether that be someone close to you, or even me.
You are deserving of validation. Your health and wellbeing is and will always be more important than anything else in your life. Although it is hard, it needs to be prioritized. Life may not have a pause button while figuring things out, and that is okay. The experiences I now have are worth a hundred of the nights I experienced last year while I was deeply struggling and unhappy.
Without the people and support in my life I now have from being open and vulnerable about my struggles, I would not be where I am currently. I cannot lie, not every day is perfect, and it never will be. That is okay. Recovery is hard. Change is hard. They are also necessary. I learn each day from the obstacles I face and have people around me who support me, show me love, and listen. I accept that I cannot control things beyond my control. This is all I can ask for.
Wishing everyone a good year – not a perfect one, but a real and fulfilling one.
Caroline C., Villanova University ‘25
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