But that was before I got sick withanorexia nervosa.
My one-sided competition to be my thinnest self left me feeling exhausted.
I knew that my disease would kill me if I let it.
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I reached out for help.
I checked into treatment for anorexia two days before my 19th birthday.
The community members and staff consisted solely of women, and the program relied heavily ongroup therapy.
This brings me back to the cracker.
In one group therapy session, I was tryingreally tryingto eat a cracker, but I couldnt.
I burst into tears.
When I gathered myself enough to peer around the room, I was met with empathetic, knowing eyes.
Its hard, but it gets easier.
The other community members in the room nodded encouragingly.
They also knew it was hard but gets easier because they had been where I was before.
In their faces, I saw unwavering support and unflappable bravery.
At that moment, I knew that they would become my lifeline if I wanted them toand I did.
It was my first encounter with an exclusively womens environment.
We spent most of our time identifying emotions, their functions, and how we respond to them.
We saw each other terrified, hopeless, and broken-hearted.
We saw each other triggered, sobbing, and vulnerable.
We saw each other, we accepted each other, and we loved each other.
Fighting for our lives together, we were each others safe space.
As I settled into the community, I became invested in each persons recovery.
Eventually, inspired by the women I loved and admired, I became invested inmy ownrecovery.
The other women in the program played an indispensable role in that.
As I grappled with the struggles that recovery saddled onto me, I sought their counsel.
Popular culture has immortalized the mean girl stereotype through film, TV, and unceasing celebrity feuds.
It can indoctrinate us with the false narrative that women cant and dont like other women.
As a young teenager I wrestled with this falsehood.
While it didnt seem quite right, it was overwhelmingly what had been presented to me.
My sisters in treatment, decidedly unconvinced that we should compete with one another, radiated encouragement and kindness.
Although we werent forced to support each other, we did it anyway.
I dont know ifeating disordersare curable.
I tend to believe that the best someone like me can hope for is long-term remission.
But luckily, my support web connection is stronger than ever.
It consists of family and friends and, perhaps most importantly, my sisters from treatment.
Theyve done it several times.
I would do the same for them.
Eating disorders can thrive on isolation, and they can wither when their target has a support online grid.
My time intreatmentwas the start of a love story.
Well, society is wrong.
