Becoming Imperfectly Me
Perfectionism (noun): the refusal to accept any standard short of perfection.
Let me start by saying, it is NOT easy being 17 years old, let alone being a senior in high school, having to decide what college to go to for four years of your life, on top of trying to achieve grades to even get IN to college. Oh, and don’t forget also having a social life and participating in extracurricular activities (resume booster)! Knowing what I know now, I would give myself more grace. I would tell the teenage girl standing in front of the mirror, questioning her worth, to breathe. Everything would work out just as it was supposed to. If only we could turn back time and give ourselves a big ‘ole hug, right?
My perfectionism rooted from my type A personality. Any other type A’s reading this know what I mean? The “control freak” in me that dictates (or used to) a lot of my decisions. From having to have the perfect ratio of peanut butter to bread for my daily lunch sandwiches, getting perfectly straight-A’s all throughout schooling, to the cookie cutter abs like the models on instagram. To be able to achieve the picturesque abs, I knew I needed to change my diet and start to workout. Thus, I began going to the gym and running my daily miles and doing my ab circuits. I cut out processed foods such as pizza, candy, soda, basically anything deemed “unhealthy” on the internet. Soon, the couple times a week at the gym turned to 7 days a week. The restricted choices of food turned to limited amount of food at all.
I became obsessed with stepping on the scale. If I saw a number that was “too high” I became sad and restricted myself some more. If I saw a number that was acceptable, I was smiling cheek to cheek. I fell in a vicious cycle of always wanting to lose more weight, to see my abs more “clearer”, to look like the fitness models I followed. I kept falling deeper and deeper until I hit rock bottom.
Rock bottom for me was being told by an eating disorder physician that if I stepped on a treadmill, I was at risk for going into cardiac arrest. If I did not intentionally start to eat more, I was at risk for losing my life. I was threatened with being admitted to inpatient and having a feeding tube placed (how ironic I am such a tube feed nerd now?). Needless to say, I couldn’t go on any further. So, as the perfectionist I was, I created a plan.
My plan was simple. If I was going to eat more, it was going to be healthy. I became obsessed with ingredients and controlling every ounce of food that went into my body. Long gone were the days of added sugar, refined grains, bread, dairy, and alcohol. If I was going to put on weight, it was going to be the right way. Joke was on me.
My freshman year of college, my anorexia turned into orthorexia. I fell into a deep depression. My perfectionism took over and I lost myself in the meantime. I went to one the largest football schools in the country (O-H…) and on game nights, I spent time with me, myself, and my chemistry book. I would not settle for anything below an A. In addition, tailgating meant alcohol, alcohol meant uncontrolled calories, and uncontrolled calories meant weight gain (by the way, this is so NOT true!). Aka, tailgating was a no-go for me. I isolated myself from everyone. My relationships suffered, my mental health went down the drain, and physically I was not healthy. Until one night, I called my mom crying on the bathroom floor telling her I did not want to live anymore.
The problem was, I wasn’t living. I was far from living and I realized, the only person who could change my narrative, was myself. I stumbled upon a blog post written by a registered dietitian nutritionist (now a dear friend). I related to the blog post more than I had ever related to anyone in the past year of my life. So, I did what I was always terrified of doing. I asked for help.
Asking for help saved my life. By working with a dietitian, I was able to free myself from the food rules, over-exercise abuse, gain HEALTHY weight, and most importantly, find Emily again. I found myself eating croissants at coffee shops on a Tuesday, drinking a glass of wine and sharing appetizers with friends on a Friday, and resting on a Sunday.
If you have ever been in a situation with food, exercise, or unhealthy relationship with your body, you are in the perfect place.
That being said,
Welcome, friend. I’m Emily.
