Updates

It's been a while since my last post. Life has gotten a little hectic lately with my college classes picking up and finishing, job changes, and an internship starting soon.

I wanted to write a quick post about where I'm at right now--just for my own personal sanity. Over the past year, I've gained some weight due to being stuck sitting down for most of the day in classes, at work, or doing homework late into the night. I've also adopted some unhealthy eating habits (like stress snacking) at the same time. Gaining weight isn't a bad thing (like I've said on here probably a million times), but for some reason, I haven't been taking it very well lately. I feel like it's partly because I had been gradually losing and then maintaining my weight for a prolonged period, which was something I hadn't been able to do since my eating disorders started in high school. I guess I just got used to it and the body that came from it.

Also, I think we can all agree that it's much easier to love yourself when you look the way you want to and when you don't have to toss out old clothes because they don't fit anymore. It isn't impossible, but it is harder.

I'll be honest, some of my eating disorder thoughts have come back. I've been thinking about restricting food and dieting. I've been comparing myself to those around me, feeling more insecure, and I've been more hesitant to have pictures or videos of me posted to social media. (My husband actually just posted a video of me trying to move a bookcase we bought for our apartment and I had a really hard time watching it. We also have a family wedding this summer and I'm not sure I'm ready to handle all the pictures that are going to be taken.) I know that I'm beautiful, but geez, what a good reminder that eating disorders never totally go away.

Anyways, I don't have much else to say for now, but I think I needed this. I also wanted to be open with anyone who reads my blog and maybe assumes that I have it all figured out--because I don't. Even though I'm technically "recovered," I'm not perfect and I still have insecurities and hard days. That doesn't mean I stop trying or give up though.

That really is the trick with eating disorders and body dysmorphia, you have to be willing to be honest with yourself and challenge those nasty thoughts the second they enter your head. Otherwise, they'll stay there and fester.

Maybe I'll pick up writing again so I can keep myself in line and hold myself accountable. Shorter posts like this are definitely doable, but we'll see.

Some of the most recent photos that have been taken of me.

Even with posting these, I went through and found the ones that I thought I looked "the best" in. 

Like this one that covers up most of my face. 

Acne

Throughout high school, I was pretty lucky when it came to acne. This was probably due to the fact that when I was anorexic, I only ate "clean" or "safe" foods that were low in carbs, calories, and fats--if I ate anything (Disclaimer: I do not recommend this and no one should use eating like this an excuse for clear skin. It is disordered eating.). The same was true during my binge eating disorder, but rather than my skin remaining clear as a result of what I was (and was not) eating,  I'm pretty sure the only reason why my skin remained clear was because my body knew that having bad acne would have broken my already fragile self-esteem into oblivion. It would have given me one more reason to hate my body and to hate myself. It might have even pushed me to suicide.

As shallow as it sounds, having clear skin helped me feel a little bit better about myself--even on my worst days.

Fast-forward to about a year ago. I was dating Justin and things were going great. Well, mostly great except for one thing. I had started to get acne for the first time in my life. I was embarrassed that what most people had experienced in their teens was happening to me as an adult. I became even more self-conscious than I normally was and my perceptions of myself were largely determined by how many zits I had on my face that day. I was worried that Justin would think less of me or think I was less attractive because of it. I ended up buying as many over-the-counter cleansers, oil-removers, and acne medications as I could find; I even resorted to scouring the internet for hours and buying products from Korea and Japan in the hopes that they would make me somewhat attractive again. I eventually went to see a dermatologist, but getting rid of my acne wasn't easy. The topical medication was expensive and the oral medication made me throw up. But I was willing to do anything to make it go away. I eventually was tired of feeling sick from the medication and I stopped taking it. My skin did pretty well for a while, but things picked back up again around Christmas of that year. It was bad. It wasn't that I had a zit here and there on my face, but my entire forehead was covered in large, cystic pimples. To make things worse, I tired to pick at the zits, which made some scab over and made others become inflamed. I was so embarrassed that I wore a bandanna headband everyday for two weeks so no one could see just how 'ugly' I had become. I was insecure around Justin and whenever he told me I was beautiful, I thought he was saying it out of pity. I mean, he saw what I saw in the mirror and so did everyone else around me--I thought they thought of me like I thought of me. That they thought I was ugly and disgusting. There were even nights where I would quietly cry myself to sleep out of frustration and self-loathing or instances where I would avoid experiences altogether out of shame.

When it was at its worst this past December
(the lighting in the picture doesn't really show
how intense it was)

The bandana headband
(Also, don't mind Jesus in the background haha)

In a lot of ways, I guess I relived the same emotions I experienced during my disorders.

Luckily, Justin caught on to what was happening pretty fast (one of the best things about being married is that you never have to go through things alone). Noticing that I was depressed and struggling, he looked at me one night and said, "Alyson, acne and beauty aren't mutually exclusive". And he was right.

I still struggle with feeling my best when I have zits or scabs from zits on my face, but I'm starting to realize that my beauty--and more importantly, who I am, is not negatively influenced by some red dots on my face. I am more than a few imperfections in my complexion.

Acne and beauty are not mutually exclusive.
Neither are acne and self-worth;
Acne and self-esteem;
Acne and love;
Acne and good experiences;
Or acne and anything positive in life.

For a while I gave myself a hard time for feeling insecure about my appearance because I thought that since I had overcome my disorders I was better than this and that I had control over most of my insecurities. That I had already overcome my body image issues and that I shouldn't still be struggling. However, I'm starting to realize that body-dysmorphia, low self-esteem, and body image issues tend to manifest themselves in more than one way and in more than one area of our lives. How we feel about ourselves is a complex, multi-faceted experience. While we may overcome one facet that we struggle with (like being okay with stretch marks or wearing a swimsuit in public), we may also still struggle with another area of our appearance (like having acne in my case). Learning to love yourself isn't easy,  however, that doesn't mean that we shouldn't be proud of progress we have made in the past or be intimidated by how large of a challenge learning to like ourselves may seem. The best thing we can do is take things one day or one facet at a time and be kind to ourselves.

Another thing that I've realized as I've gone through this experience is that while it's pretty easy to love yourself, it can be ridiculously hard to like yourself. For example, I love who I am, but I don't necessarily like my appearance when I have acne strewn across my face. Why is it that when we see someone else with an 'flaw' that we have (like acne in my case), we are less harsh toward them than we are towards ourselves? When someone else has a zit on their face I don't instanteously like them any less or think any less of them. Sometimes, I don't even notice if there are any zits on their face in the first place. However, when it is on my own face, I tend to use it as an excuse to bully myself for something that is out of my control and I project how I feel about myself onto others.

For a while, I thought that in order to be beautiful, I had to have perfect skin--just like I used to think that I had to have the 'perfect' body in order to love myself, like myself, or be myself. Perfection does not constitute beauty, it is a toxic and obsessive illusion. I may never have clear or perfect skin again for the rest of my life, but does that make me any less beautiful or any less beautiful of a person? No. Should I use my acne as an excuse to miss out on my own life? No. Am I less deserving of love and self-worth because of my acne? Definitely not. Should I be ashamed of my acne? No, because being getting acne is a completely normal human experience.

Acne isn't inherently negative, ugly, or bad by nature, it is only when we attribute those traits to acne that it becomes such. Acne happens, and that's okay.

Although I'm not completely comfortable walking around without makeup or going without covering my forehead when I have a bad breakout, I'm slowly starting to be okay with having obvious acne on my face. I'll admit that I carry around a bag of makeup with me now so that I can cover my face throughout the day, that I'm on a new acne medication plan that has reduced how intense my breakouts are, that I try to use filters to minimize my acne in photos, and that I get embarrassed to go out in public when nothing I do to cover my zits seems to work; but the crying and the disgust I used to feel when I looked in the mirror have stopped. I don't let little (or big) red marks on my face determine how I feel about myself or my life.

Because acne and beauty are not mutually exclusive. 

Interviewed

Justin (my insanely talented husband) filmed me and my eating disorder story for his final project in his film production class this semester. For those of you who have followed me for a while, most of what I talk about is probably old news, but in the video I go over my history with eating disorders and my road to recovery.

Check it out below!

Photographs

Although I've made a lot of progress on my journey to love my body and who I am post-eating disorders, earlier this year I realized that I still have a long way to go before being completely comfortable with myself in every regard.While I'm usually fine with looking at myself in the mirror and liking what I see, I still cringe whenever I see an unattractive picture of myself (granted, I usually think every picture of me is unattractive unless it's carefully posed and edited--something that I think is more common than not within groups of women). Up until a few months ago, I would even go as far as to untag myself from and hide pictures of myself that I didn't like from my Facebook timeline. Because of this, dating a photographer whose favorite subject to photograph is you, can kind of be problematic.

After our first couple of months dating, Justin started to bring his camera on our dates and to be honest, I hated the pictures he took of me. Even worse, he would publish them on Facebook for everyone to see--whether I liked how I looked or not (he actually didn't know how much I was struggling with this until a few weeks ago when I started conceptualizing this post). Although I didn't ever stop him from posting photos of me, I made sure that only the ones I could tolerate showed up on my social media timeline. I was also quick to pick apart why I didn't like the photos, despite all the compliments and reassurance he would give me (I'm pretty sure it's human nature to be your own worst critic). I think it's usually easier for us to find things we don't like about ourselves than things we do--especially in photos. Maybe it's the concrete nature of having a picture taken of you that incites personal critique. As in, once a photo is taken, it can't be taken back. And even more so, once a photo is posted online, it can't be unseen. I think there's also a fear of once you see an unattractive picture of yourself, you become afraid of that potentially being how people see you in everyday life. It's kind of comparable to hearing your voice on a recording and asking yourself: "Do I really sound like that?"

One of the most frustrating parts about Justin taking pictures of me back then was that whenever I didn't like a picture, he couldn't see why I didn't like it. We used to joke that it was because he was biased, but after months of Justin taking pictures of me and having the time to reflect on my negative thoughts, I realize now that there wasn't anything bad with the pictures themselves. In fact, there has never been anything wrong with pictures of myself that I haven't liked or thought were ugly. What was wrong though, was how poorly I was willing to treat myself just because I didn't look the way I wanted to or thought I should. The more I've thought about this, the more I've realized how common of an experience this is for women collectively. We've all asked someone to re-take our picture because we didn't like the first one. We've all taken what feels like a million selfies just so we can get the perfect angle or lighting. We've all tried to use a filter to take away our blemishes or to distract from features we don't like on ourselves. And, we've all looked at a photo of ourselves and desperately asked: "Do I really look like that?"

Over the past couple of months, I've tried to make a consistent effort to question and counter any the typical negativity I experience when I look at a picture of myself that isn't necessarily attractive. And I'll be honest, it's been way harder than I ever could have anticipated. Not only is doing this an attempt to overcome your thoughts, but also your emotions as well. I think as women, we're taught to focus our efforts regarding our worth and self-esteem upon our appearance. By doing this, we place unrealistic expectations upon ourselves to the extent that (at least in my case) when we see a "bad" picture of ourselves, we immediately feel ashamed and embarrassed—almost as if it's a direct blow to who we are as a person (something which is entirely untrue).

Believe it or not, over time I’ve actually found that the “bad” and unattractive pictures of me have their own beauty to them. They show me as a living, breathing, and feeling being. They feature me in all my imperfect, but authentic glory. By embracing photos of me that I would have initially perceived as unattractive in the past, I’ve gotten to see myself with new eyes while also finding a new sense of freedom. I’m no longer afraid that my carefully crafted image of myself and self-esteem are going to crumble as soon as someone posts a picture of me that I don’t like. When I look at a picture now, I see myself first and my imperfections second--instead of the other way around. There really isn't such a thing as"unattractive" pictures, but there is such a thing as having an unattractive outlook on yourself. Pictures are just pictures. In a sense, they're neutral until we assign subjective meanings to them.

We aren't always going to look selfie-ready and that's okay. Photos are meant for capturing memories, not negativity over how we look. Looking at some of the pictures that Justin took of me is almost a bittersweet experience for this reason. In some of the photos, I was so preoccupied with how I looked that it took away from the actual moment that was being captured. Luckily, I realized all of this before Justin and I took our wedding photos. Had I not done this, I think the same thing would have happened with those photos too. However, because of my actions I'm able to look back at our photos and remember how happy I was rather than how preoccupied I was with how the photos were going to turn out or how I was going to look in the photos.  

Although it still takes conscious effort to remind myself that unattractive pictures are just pictures, at least now I know that there is so much more to who I am than what a camera lens captures me as. A camera can never capture how compassionate you are; how intelligent you are; or how talented you are. It can never capture the lives you’ve touched for the better, the challenges you’ve faced, or how intrinsically important you are. 

Pictures capture us in a moment of time whether we're ready or not,  

And I for one want to make sure that I remember that moment as a good one regardless.

Married!

Hi all!

Two weeks ago I married the love of my life and I couldn't be happier! With all the wedding planning and stressing over, I should have time to start posting again in the near future :)

Thanks again for all your patience and support, I can't wait to share some more of my thoughts with you soon!

P.S. Here are some pictures from our big day, I wish you all could have been there!

Loss

A couple months ago I went to go see my endocrinologist and found out that I've lost a significant amount of weight in the five months prior to my visit. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem for me or even something that I would have wanted to know, but it became a problem when she told me the exact amount that I weigh. My old endocrinologist knew not to talk numbers with me because I first met her during my disorder and right after Dr. Spigarelli told me that I wasn't allowed to weigh myself. However, my new doctor wasn't aware of this. Needless to say, I was elated to hear about my new weight, but that elation has quickly started to morph into an obsession.

I'm not upset that she told me (I mean, It's not like I can or should go through life averting my eyes when I'm weighed on a scale or expecting doctors to hide that information from me every time I go to a hospital) but I am upset by my own reaction to her telling me this.

When I was at my heaviest, I used to always tell myself that if I could just get to the weight that I'm at now, I would be happy. I thought that by reaching this weight, I would finally be able to be satisfied with my body and all of my body image issues would magically go away.

However, I'm starting to realize that this isn't necessarily true.

For as proud as I was of losing the weight that I once had, I'm now terrified of gaining weight back. I criticize my appearance and compare myself to others more so than I have in a long time, my expectations of myself are slowly starting to become more and more unrealistic, and worst of all, I've even started to monitor what I eat and let calorie counting slip back into my thoughts.

Although I'm aware of what's going on within myself, I've been way more passive about addressing these issues within myself than I should be. So, I've decided it's time to have an introspective heart-to-heart with myself to try to nip these disorder behaviors before they become active participants in my life again.

Ready? Let's do this:

• Alyson, what is there to be afraid of? Going back to the previous weight that you were when you lost weight the first time after recovery? You liked yourself and your body then just as much as you do now. Weight doesn't determine worth or beauty, remember? I thought we've moved on past this.
• These thoughts that you're having go against everything that you've stood for and all the lessons you've learned during the three years you spent recovering. You're becoming a hypocrite.
• If you keep this up, you could easily fall back into your disorders or allow yourself to relearn an unhealthy relationship with food. Food isn't the enemy and your body isn't a construction zone.
• Good gravy, girlfriend. Your brain was made for bigger and better things than preoccupying itself with calories and constantly critiquing your physical appearance.
• Being skinny isn't an accomplishment and wearing a smaller clothing size isn't something to be proud of.  
• You are more than your body and you are good enough. 
• Also, at any weight or state, your body is nothing to be ashamed of.
• Don't be too hard on yourself for slipping up, recovery is a life-long effort. 
• Body image isn't reliant how you look or what you weigh, body image is reliant on how you feel about yourself.
• Losing weight doesn't guarantee happiness--you know this firsthand. Last time you obsessed over losing weight, you were constantly miserable, hungry, and depressed. 

With that taken care of, I want to note that as I started to recover, I slowly realized that happiness came from things other than my weight or what I ate. Additionally, the motivation behind my recovery changed from wanting to lose weight to wanting to be recovered and healthy. Instead of trying to change my appearance, I decided to change how I saw myself and coincidentally, I also became happy with myself as well.

Lately though, I've seemed to forget all of this.

So here's a reminder to myself that:

• I'm still proud of who I've become. 
• I still love my stretch marks because they remind me of where I've been.
• I'm still proud of how strong my body is and all that it can do at any weight. 
• I still believe that size is just a descriptor, not a determinate of worth. 
• I still think that I am beautiful no matter how I look or how the world says I should be. 
• I still know that I am not my disorders. 
• I still love myself because I am worth loving. 

I don't think it's a bad thing to lose weight or to be happy that you lost weight, but from my own personal experience over these last few months, I've come to realize that there's a fine line between being happy for yourself and obsessing over maintaining your happiness due to conditions you've applied to it.

Yes, I'm happy that I lost weight.
But I won't let my weight determine my happiness.

So, if I gain the weight back, who cares?
If I eat more than the recommended amount of calories for a meal, what's the big deal?

I deserve to be happy and proud of myself regardless of the number on a scale, the size of a dress,
the food I've eaten or the reflection in the mirror.

I am more than my body and I am more than my weight.

I am Alyson.
And I will be happy with myself.

Photo Cred: My Super Talented Boyfriend, Justin

Utah County Resources

In response to an "Ask Aly" that was sent in a couple of months ago, I realized that it might be a good idea to start updating and adding to the recovery resources I have on the blog. Luckily, I was able to get a great list of doctors, social workers and psychologists from the eating disorder recovery group that I mentored for this past semester.

Hope this helps!
(For more resources, click on the "Helpful Website/Resources" tab on the menu bar)

Finding the Sunshine: My Story

For those of you that may have missed it, here's the full version of the post that I wrote for Finding the Sunshine ! 

I was 14 years old when I first began my journey with eating disorders.

Although I had struggled with body dysmorphia for as long as I could remember, I didn't do anything to drastically change my body until the beginning of tenth grade. I decided to follow the "advice" of my health teacher and start a "calorie deficit" diet to lose weight (which I now realize didn't need to be lost in the first place).

The diet quickly turned into more than a weight loss plan, it was a disorder...an obsession. I was constantly preoccupied with counting calories and controlling my food intake--I was convinced that I was being "healthy". Food was always in the forefront of my thoughts and I was always hungry; I would go to bed starving just so I could eat breakfast in the morning. However, during this time I wasn't willing to accept that what I was doing was wrong. I was happily miserable.

Towards the beginning of eleventh grade, I was bullied. I became depressed and turned to the one thing that I had been denying myself in order to find comfort: food. This quickly turned into a different disorder known as binge eating disorder. I would go into my family's kitchen and gorge on food for hours on end until my stomach couldn't take it anymore. I hated myself and it was also during this time that I became suicidal. 

Dr. Michael Spigarelli was the first person to tell me that an eating disorder--of any kind, is a (curable) mental disease; my disorders were not me or my fault. Additionally, he made sure to emphasize that depression and anxiety are often linked to disordered behaviors as well and also can act as catalysts for disorders to begin. Thanks to him, my therapist, and antidepressants, I was able to overcome my disease along with the depression that resulted. 

In all honesty, this was an incredibly dark time in my life; I had no hope for myself or for my future. There were times when I couldn't and didn't want to find the sunshine in anything. I accepted and feared that my life would always be a constant battle against myself; it felt as if I was slowly burying myself in a grave that I wouldn't be able to climb out of.

Although I'm painting a pretty dark picture of my past, things weren't always completely terrible. My faith in God acted as an anchor when all else failed. To Him, I wasn't a lost cause. He saw my potential and the person that I would become once I overcame my disorder. He constantly gave me moments of joy and relief from the hurricane of emotions and stress that I was experiencing. He blessed me with wonderful friends, wonderful doctors, and wonderful opportunities for change.

He saved me.

His love was like the sunrise after an endless night.

As I began taking steps towards recovery, I was able to find sunshine in the small things too, like going a day or two without bingeing or purging; going a day without hating my body, or being able to eat one meal as a "normal" person would.

Medication definitely helped me as well. Recovery was a lot easier once the burden of depression was eased from my shoulders.

From all of this, I was slowly able to take larger and more confident strides towards recovery. And as I did, my pathway seemed to become illuminated with a light that I had forgotten existed.

Although it wasn't easy to keep that light burning, by constantly picking myself up and brushing off my mistakes as I stumbled along that path, I was able to slowly find my way back into the warmth of the sun.

I’ve learned that the best way to find sunshine through eating disorders, depression, or any other trial, is to be easy on yourself and accept your own pace--recovery doesn’t happen in a day.  Find joy in the small victories and learn from your losses. Remember to tell yourself that: “Even if I fall on my face, I’m still moving forward”.

Also, there is no shame in using medication to overcome a mental disease or illness--like physical diseases and illnesses, they should be treated and can be cured.

I know for a fact that I would not be where I am (or even alive) today without the help of antidepressants, medical care, and counseling.

Although I've been officially recovered for almost a year now, I still try to find the sunshine within the trials that I experienced. In order to do this, I refuse to see myself as a victim of the mental disorders and diseases I’ve experienced. They were terrible and difficult, but they made me into who I am today. To me, feeling sorry for myself would be like taking a step backwards into the darkness that I had worked so hard to emerge from.

Going through my eating disorder (and the depression that followed) was like being thrown into a cold, dark cave. At times I had to crawl on my knees and cling to it’s walls to move forward, but eventually I saw the light that existed outside of it. I continued to move forward and eventually, the closer I got to the light, the easier things became. Instead of crawling, I was able to stand. Instead of walking and clinging to walls, I was able to run without any supports.

And let me tell you,

Now that I’m out of the cave, I can see sunshine everywhere.

Meet Rachel

I first met Rachel Morrow while I was working at my part-time job a few weeks ago. She and her friend approached me and mentioned that they knew of me and my blog. Needless to say, I was super flattered that people actually knew who I was and read what I wrote! We exchanged information and decided to collaborate in the near future. Rachel is an incredible writer and an inspiring woman who doesn't let depression drag her down. To learn more about her story and to read the article that I wrote for her blog, check out her blog, Finding the Sunshine, at www.yellowinthegray.com 

 I’ve always been a bit of a perfectionist. From the time that I was little, I can remember feeling a little bubble of anxiety in my chest when things weren’t perfect. I’ve wanted to be perfect—to be the perfect daughter, perfect sister, perfect friend, perfect student…perfect everything. This wasn’t too much of a problem until I was diagnosed with depression when I was sixteen.

My perfectionism fed my depression. It made me hate myself for not living up to an impossible standard. The more I thought about my insecurities, the stronger my depression grew. I felt like I was never going to be able to be good enough and that I might as well give up. No matter what I did that was good, I felt like there were a billion other bad things to outweigh it.

 I mostly got things under control by the time I was eighteen. I started school at BYU and decided to serve a mission at age nineteen. A month or two into my mission, my perfectionism (along with my depression) started to really get to me. I got overwhelmed and frustrated. As my depression started to drown me, my perfectionism was there too as my constant companion. I felt like I was failing as a missionary--I was failing myself, God, and the people around me. What I didn't realize is that the chemical imbalance in my brain was causing these thoughts. I was holding myself up to a standard that wasn't realistic because it was perfection.

When I came home early from my mission in 2013, my depression was debilitating. I had to come home after six months because I couldn't do the missionary work and for my health it wasn't right for me to stay in the field. So when I got home, I still struggled to get out of bed. I had a hard time with social interactions and often had panic attacks when I was in a crowd of people. I felt absolutely awful about myself. Because I had come home early, I felt like a failure. I was trying to work to be better—I started my blog, I went back to school, I got a job, etc.—but my depression and my perfectionism kept telling me I wasn’t good enough. I hated myself for being depressed and for not being able to do what other people can do.

Finally, I started to realize that perfection isn’t possible. I began to look for the little accomplishments I did each day. I decided to live each individual day to the fullest, and to go from there. If one day all I could do is shower—that was enough for me because I was living that day to the fullest. The less I focused on the things I couldn’t do and the more I focused on what I could do the happier I became. Progress has become my mantra.

Progress, to me, is living my life to the fullest. As I take each day one at a time, my days are brighter and I am happier. I have to assess each day individually and work on some sort of progress for that specific day. Progress doesn’t have to be big. It just has to be one step, then another. I still struggle with perfectionism, but I’m learning more and more each day. As Frederick Douglass said, “If there is no struggle, there is no progress.” To struggle is okay. Struggling and striving are a part of the human experience. Through my battle with mental illness I have learned that perfection isn’t possible. But I’ve also learned that it’s not perfection that matters—it’s progress.



Love,
The Optimist in Progress

Finding the Sunshine

This week, Rachel from Finding the Sunshine (a blog about depression and overcoming mental illness) and I decided to do a collaboration! She asked me to write a post for her blog about how I've "found the sunshine" despite my challenges with eating disorders, and how other people can do the same.

Here's a preview of what I had to say, but make sure to check out Rachel's blog to see the full post tomorrow!

I was 14 years old when I first began my journey with eating disorders.

Although I had struggled with body dysmorphia for as long as I could remember, I didn't do anything to drastically change my body until the beginning of tenth grade. I decided to follow the "advice" of my health teacher and start a "calorie deficit" diet to lose weight (which I now realize didn't need to be lost in the first place).

Around when I first started to "diet".

The diet quickly turned into more than a weight loss plan, it was a disorder...an obsession. I was constantly preoccupied with counting calories and controlling my food intake--I was convinced that I was being "healthy". Food was always in the forefront of my thoughts and I was always hungry; I would go to bed starving just so I could eat breakfast in the morning. However, during this time I wasn't willing to accept that what I was doing was wrong. I was happily miserable.

At my lowest--not healthiest, weight. 

Towards the beginning of eleventh grade, I was bullied. I became depressed and turned to the one thing that I had been denying myself in order to find comfort: food. This quickly turned into a different disorder known as binge eating disorder. I would go into my family's kitchen and gorge on food for hours on end until my stomach couldn't take it anymore. I hated myself and it was also during this time that I became suicidal. 

Dr. Michael Spigarelli was the first person to tell me that an eating disorder--of any kind, is a (curable) mental disease; my disorders were not me or my fault. Additionally, he made sure to emphasize that depression and anxiety are often linked to disordered behaviors as well and also can act as catalysts for disorders to begin. Thanks to him, my therapist, and antidepressants, I was able to overcome my disease along with the depression that resulted. 

In all honesty, this was an incredibly dark time in my life; I had no hope for myself or for my future. There were times when I couldn't and didn't want to find the sunshine in anything. I accepted and feared that my life would always be a constant battle against myself; it felt as if I was slowly burying myself in a grave that I wouldn't be able to climb out of.

Ask Aly: Accepting Help

How can people with eating disorders reach out for and accept help from others? Eating has always been very personal for me. I don't know how I can include loved ones in my recovery journey when I can't even be honest with myself about my eating habits.

Hi there!

Accepting help from others and being honest with yourself are two of the hardest--but also most important, steps that anyone can take when trying to overcome an eating disorder. Personally, I really struggled with both throughout all three of my disorders; however, I realize now that being honest with myself enabled me to reach out and accept help from others when I was ready.

When I was anorexic, I was in complete denial about what I was doing. I thought that because I was the smallest I had ever been in my life, I was also my healthiest (which is definitely not true for anyone). Whenever friends or family tried to reach out to me, I would push them away and justify my actions. Not only did I make myself miserable, but I made them miserable as well.

My relationship with my family--especially my mom, became really strained when I became a binge eater. However, it was during this time that I was finally able to start accepting that my previous "diet" was an eating disorder and that turning to food for comfort (I would eat uncontrollably for hours in order to forget my depression, how much I hated myself, or to forget how I was treated at school) was a disorder as well. Despite realizing this, I had a lot of emotions trapped inside of me. My family didn't really know how to handle me, my depression, or my disorder; no matter what they did or said to help, it was wrong. I hated them for not understanding what I was going through or for not understanding in the way that I needed them to. Because of this, everyone tip-toed around me like  I was a bomb that was waiting to go off...which only made things worse.

Eventually, I went to a therapist and she helped me gain more control of my emotions and my relationship with my family.

Like you said, eating is a personal thing and I think eating disorders are even more so. I think that's one reason why connecting with others throughout recovery is so hard. Eating disorders are unique to each individual who experiences them--but they aren't something that you can overcome on your own. Just like it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a strong (and diverse) support group to heal an eating disorder victim.

Looking back, I think that the most important step that I took towards being honest with myself was telling my mom that I thought I had a binge eating disorder and then looking for medical help. From there, I was able to find professionals who gave me the tools and support that I needed to heal--and with this, Elaine Cheung, my therapist, was a godsend. I sincerely believe that having an unbiased, third-party to talk to was one of the best resources that I could have had--especially at the beginning of my recovery. Talking to family members--or even friends, about eating disorders or other emotional experiences, will always have strong emotional consequences on both sides...there can be a lot of unintended misunderstanding. My therapist looked at me objectively which allowed me to say things to her that I couldn't have said to others--she allowed me to talk about my relationships at home without offending anyone at home. By doing this, I was slowly able to release a lot of emotional pressure within myself and get to a state of relative calm where I could then move forward and take bigger strides towards recovery.

Another thing that I came to realize is that you have to give those around you some slack. I think a lot of my fear and frustration towards my family came from me expecting them to perfectly understand what I was going through--which they never could have done; not because they didn't want to, but rather because they couldn't. Well-meant sympathy is never the same as empathy. They also weren't eating disorder specialists. I expected them to save me when they were just as lost with how to help me as I was. I was so focused on myself drowning, that it was hard to see them drowning beside me.

I don't know if this answered your question, but I think you already hit the nail on the head. The first step towards including those around you is to be honest with yourself which then enables your to be honest with them. I remember that after meeting with Elaine for a while, she suggested that I sit with my family and officially tell them what I was going through--put it all out in the open so that everyone was on the same page. It was terrifying and embarrassing, but it helped. It's a wall that I would have eventually climbed at one point or another, but as soon as I did, I was able to move on to the next hurdle in front of me.

So, the sooner you do in your road to recovery, the better.

I can't guarantee how your family will react to something like this, but it's important to remember that whatever they do, it will be out of love and concern (even if it's sometimes misguided).

So make sure that you're not only patient with yourself, but patient with them too.

You can overcome your disorder, I believe in you.

You can do this!







*To submit a question, you can either use the submission app on the sidebar of the blog or email me at: tomyfullestblog@gmail.com*

Interview with Up and Up

Two weeks ago, I had the amazing opportunity to be interviewed by Sarah, from Up and Up Magazine! We talked about my experiences fighting eating disorders, coming to terms with loving my body and how spirituality can play a role in eating disorder recovery.

This interview has been a big step forward for me in my journey to help others overcome their own body image issues and disorders. When I was dealing with my disorders in high school, I was terrified of anyone finding out that I had gone through not only one, but three eating disorders.

I was terrified of weakness and being seen as someone to pity.

It was also during that time that I first began writing this blog as a way for me to cope with what I was going through. Originally, I wanted to publish it my senior year, but my mom and I decided that it would be for the better if I waited until I was in a safer environment to open myself up to the world--somewhere away from the things and people who harmed me in my past.

Thank you to all of you who have followed me throughout my journey and helped me get to this point;
I appreciate your support immensely!


Make sure to check out Up and Up and the interview below!

If you haven't used the t-shirt coupon code yet, here it is again: 

No Makeup Challenge

When I was little, I remember telling my older sisters that I would never wear makeup because it was like lying to the people around you about what you looked like. I held strong to this belief until I hit middle school and the pressure to look like everyone else became overwhelming.

So I digressed.

Seventh grade marked the beginning of a new life. It was the first time that I believed that I needed to change how I looked to not only like myself, but to have others like me as well.

To be pretty.

I would go to my locker between class periods to touch up my foundation or mascara.
I would stop by every reflective surface I came across to make sure I looked "okay".
I would wake up early each morning to make sure I had enough time to put on a new face;

A better face that I liked more.

For the past couple of months, I've wanted to do a "no makeup challenge" where you go a week without wearing an ounce of makeup and note the consequences (positive and negative) thereof.

I'll be honest with you, getting myself to commit to this was ridiculously harder than I thought it would be. I don't want to say that I was scared to go without makeup, but it was more like I was uncomfortable with the thought of it. It was an alien concept to me; a different reality that I had forgotten how to live.

I guess my morning routine of putting on makeup had become more than just a habit, it was an addiction.

Anyways, the best instigator for me to actually follow through with my plans was waking up 10 minutes before class started last Monday. In a panicked state, I had to make an instant decision:

Breakfast or makeup?

Given my history of disordered eating, It would have been a contradiction if I had been willing to let myself skip a meal for the sake of my appearance.

(Seriously though. How did I even consider going five hours without food just to have clearer looking skin?)

So,
I ate, changed my clothes, and (literally) ran to class.

Day 1

After I got back from classes that day, I decided to make this experiment official and I typed up all the thoughts that I had felt while being makeup free.

Here are just a few of them:

• It's liberating--I feel like an elementary kid again.
• I forgot what it was like to live like this...I can remember being so excited to start wearing makeup in middle school---now it's not something I necessarily want to do, but that I feel that I have to do.
• I can't describe how this feels--I feel...fresh?? Definitely not the word I was going for...its like my face is saying "ahhhhhh"--Like those actors on a minty gum commercial.
• I can actually touch my face! AND RUB MY EYES. WHAT IS THIS.
• Is it normal to feel more confident without makeup?
• Wait, how long have my eyes been green?
• I love how everyone assumes that when a girl doesn't wear makeup, it's because she slept in or is sick...even if it's true.
• I feel like myself...more authentic--Like I'm not trying to hide anything.
• Is this how it is for guys every morning? They wake up, brush their hair, eat, dress, and go?

Day 2

• Oh great. I have to give a presentation today and be filmed. Oops.
• Wait, why am I saying oops?
• Will anyone notice?
• Of course they will. You're wearing a different face.
• I wonder what people are thinking about me...
• Wait, I shouldn't care about that.
• I actually think I like this a lot better...
• Can I really do a whole week of this?

Day 3

• I look older and younger at the same time.
• Maybe I could just do foundation but no eye makeup...or tinted lip balm...
• Is that cheating?
• Maybe those acne scars aren't as bad as I thought they were.
• FACE TOUCHING IS SO WEIRD.
• Crap, I hope it's okay if I go to work like this--I can't get fired over something like this, right? 
• My eyes are HUGE.
• Do I feel tired because I am or because I've been taught that not wearing makeup means that you're tired?
• Maybe I could compensate somewhere else on my appearance to distract from this...

Day 4

If you couldn't tell, I was more than a little conflicted over how I felt about going without makeup. However, as the week went on, it became more natural for me to do ("practice makes perfect"). You can even tell in the pictures that I took, that I began to feel more comfortable with this new version of myself the longer that I got to know her, but it definitely took some getting used to.

For the first few days of going without makeup, I would look in the mirror and see a stranger. I felt as if I had missed out on a lifetime of getting to know this person. Whenever I saw her at bedtime or early in the morning, I would avert my eyes until I was done making her over.

I had forgotten what I looked like.

As I went throughout the week, I found myself standing taller and taking larger strides as I walked around campus. I felt more self-assured and capable.

I found a confidence within myself that I had forgotten existed.
Since I spent less time worrying about my face, I was able to spend more time focusing on myself.

At the beginning of the week, I was worried about about what people would think of me without makeup, but by the end of the week I was worried about having to start wearing makeup again.

(I tried to put on makeup the following weekend and it was a hot mess. I didn't realize how quickly my makeup application skills had gotten out of shape!)

Day 5

I know that a lot of women say that makeup is empowering, and I completely agree! Sometimes having a black line around your eyelashes or some color on your lips can make a world of difference with one's confidence.

But, if you have to look in a makeup bag to find your confidence, that's a problem.
Also, if you feel like you have to wear makeup because you're expected to, not because you want to, that's a problem as well.

Women are constantly told by the media and cosmetics companies that their best is never good enough.
They could always look better.
That they'll be better if they look better.

But according to whose standards?

Everyone's entitled to their own opinion, but after this experience, I think I'm going to take a break from makeup for a while. That doesn't mean that I won't ever wear it, bur rather that I probably won't wear as much as I used to.

I mean, what was I really trying to cover up with all of the foundation, concealer, mascara, and blush that I would normally wear?

Myself?
My insecurities?

You know, I'm really glad that I finally had a reason to start this challenge; it stretched me way outside of my comfort zone and I think I'm a better person now because of it.

A more confident person.
A more self-aware person.
A more self-accepting person.

I know that doing something like this doesn't work for everyone, but if you haven't done it before, I definitely recommend going a week--or even a day, without makeup. It's one of the most empowering things that I have ever done. It was like telling the world that I was okay with who I am and how I look; that I shouldn't have to look perfect to feel perfectly fine about my appearance.

Of course there were times when I felt incredibly self-conscious about how I looked, but the more that I fought those thoughts, the less they occurred.

Maybe for me, wearing makeup wasn't so much about "lying" to the people around me about how I looked, but rather a way of me lying to myself about where I got my confidence from.

I love makeup and I love the way makeup looks,
But now I love the way that I look without makeup even more.