Searching for Skinny

My eyes flutter open on a cold Saturday morning. I want to stay in my bed with my sheets piled on me, stuffing my hands in between my legs to keep them warm. If I stayed here forever I wouldn’t have to eat. Maybe I wouldn’t even get hungry. 

I silently yell at myself that I have to get up. To workout. To walk. To dance. To do everything. 

Get up. 

My feet find the cold floor. 

Everything is cold, even my bones feel cold. I throw on my robe on top of my long sleeve pajama set.

I start making my way to the door but my whole body feels too heavy. My head feels like it is floating above me, my feet are moving one in front of the other but it suddenly feels like I’m swimming. When I make it to the door I begin to reach my hand to the metal knob.

Strange.

A black curtain starts to cover my eyes. 

The handle gets farther and farther away. 

The devils hands grab onto my shoulders and pull me to the floor.

I am falling to the underground.

But the wood below stops me.

My elbows catch behind me. 

5 seconds? 5 minutes?

I don’t know how long I was laying there.

But when I open my eyes my brother is peering over his bunk bed. 

“Why are you laying on the floor Catalina?”

The world seems to open back up, the curtains have gone.

“I don’t know…I-I think I must have fainted”. 

-

I never wanted to have an eating disorder. Food has always been my love language, my way of connection, honestly one of the reasons I get up every morning. 

And yet-I struggled with anorexia twice in my life, and is something I am still dealing with the repercussions of today. I’ve never really shared it publicly, but I hope by sharing my story, it can even help one person who might be or have struggled with the same thing or anything similar. 

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The first time I struggled with anorexia was my eighth grade year. The summer after I finished 7th grade my family went on a Euro vacation. For three weeks we swam in the Mediterranean sea, walked 10 miles a day, ate croissants for breakfast, pasta for dinner, and gelato every night. It was heaven. The whole trip I didn’t think once about my weight or how I looked. I didn’t care. 

But as we got back home on the night of June 27th, I decided to step on a scale. It was night time, we just got off the plane, the number read three pounds heavier than my pre Europe weight. I laughed it off and said, “Time to go on a little cleanse!”

I was 12. My hormones were changing through puberty, I spent three weeks eating dessert almost every night, and I just got off the plane. 

Water weight, a little extra fat, who even knows. Who cares?

Looking back if I didn’t step on that scale and just let my life carry on naturally I do wonder how differently my life would have turned out. 

But the number that said I was heavier and fatter than before was the start of the wheels turning in my brain, programming it to constantly tell me to keep losing weight, to keep getting skinnier. 

Later that summer in August I also started ballet and dance again. I don’t think all dancers or ballerinas have eating disorders, or that it was the sole reason for mine. But there is something to be said about staring at yourself in the mirror everyday for over an hour in nothing but a leotard surrounded by a bunch of other girls in leotards where all of us are thinking:

“I wish I looked like her.”

-

In the first few months of my eighth grade year it didn’t seem like an unhealthy obsession with food. In fact, in some ways I became more aware of the nutritional benefits surrounding food. I enjoyed making huge salads, bowls of oatmeal every morning, and drinking enough water throughout the day. But certain habits started to become dangerous obsessions. 

By October of my senior year, I would weigh myself every morning with nothing on to get the most accurate number, as the number started going down, my brain would send me hits of dopamine. It felt good. 

Yes, I'm smaller. 

My clothes started to feel loose. I could loop my belt one whole tighter.

Yes I'm smaller. 

I started to like how I was looking in my leotard and tights.

Yes I’m smaller, I’m smaller.

Certain friends around me wouldn’t eat lunch. If they don’t need lunch, I don’t need lunch. It’s just 15 minutes. I can survive. 

So on certain days I wouldn’t pack myself a lunch. 

Each day began to hold a schedule of my eating behaviors and habits.

On days I had dance I would allow myself chia pudding or oatmeal for breakfast, it was the same recipe each week to ensure the same amount of calories. 

Lunch would be a salad compiled mostly of lettuce, in the same container, each and every time.

For dinner I would allow myself one serving of whatever we were having in the same bowl, I tried not to make anything too obvious around my parents. See? I’m still eating. 

Wednesdays I had no dance so my breakfast was fruit and my lunch was a bar. 

Fridays were the worst. 

No eating til dinner.

Make dinner as light as possible. 

I became a pescetarian, then vegetarian, then vegan.*

I said it was because I didn't like meat and dairy makes me congested.

But the real reason was because I swore meat and cheese made me fat. 

-

One day in November my family along with some of my aunts, my sister’s boyfriend, and my great grandma and I went out to one of our favorite Mexican restaurants. I didn’t order anything.

*This isn’t bashing on the vegan diet or any diet at all! There is a healthy way to be vegetarian, vegan , gluten free, paleo yada yada. But for me, I was using it as an excuse to make my eating disorder easier in public situations.

While everyone else indulged in the glorious melty cheese and bean burrito I said I wasn’t hungry because I just ate before. I tucked my hands in my sleeves and hid them under my butt so I wouldn’t be tempted. 

-

None of my clothes fit me right.
My hair was falling out in chunks in the shower. 

I was always tired.

I was always cold. 

It hurt to lay on my back.

It hurt to sit on hard chairs.

I lost my period.

And still. I wanted to be smaller.

If I could do this. I could do anything. 

-

Some people around started to notice how much weight I lost, but I just smiled and laughed and said it was because I was dancing so much. 

I guess the turning point started to become when I did faint in front of my brother. It made me realize how weak and helpless I was. If I couldn’t get to my door on a Saturday morning what comes next? If I kept going, would I even get to finish my eighth grade year?

I didn’t know how to tell my parents. And I don’t think my parents knew how to help me. 

My dad just wanted his Tony back. The Tony who would eat pasta and yogurt and get it all over her face, unafraid to go back for seconds. 

“You love food Catalina, just eat!” He would tell me.

My mom who was also dealing with another daughter who had epilepsy believed that if I had this much strength to make myself not eat, then I had the power within me to eat again. 

“This is your problem Catalina. If you can control your mind this much around food then you have the power to retrain it to fuel yourself again.”

Looking back I understand where both of my parents were coming from. eating disorders are complex and scary, and it’s hard to wrap your head around the fact that it is just as much a mental health disorder as anything else.

But as a hungry, confused, hormonal, emotional 13 year old who loved and hated food all at once. I think what I needed most of all was nurturing and acceptance. 

I needed someone to say, “We see that you have an eating disorder, it’s ok that you have an eating disorder. But you are not healthy Catalina. What can we do together to work through this?”

Instead, I had to learn how to crawl out of the hole alone.

The rest of my eighth grade year I started feeding myself more, I even went to New York with a close friend and learned how to have bagels for breakfast and ice cream for dessert. Everything was ok I kept saying to myself.

Sophomore and Junior year of high school were good for the most part. 

But my relationship surrounding food was still not normal, certain things still scared me, I could only have this much of this or that much of that etc, and while my weight was restored I still only got my period three times during high school.

Enter Senior year. 

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Ballet began to become more intense, I got cast as Clara and then was a part of a spring show so this meant beyond dancing 3 days a week at school plus outside rehearsals during shows because I was in Dance Company, I danced 6-7 days a week of Ballet outside of school (in total I was dancing 2-3 times per day, and around 20-30 hours per week from August-June). Rehearsals on the weekends were anywhere from 5-7 hours. Being an advanced dancer meant not only being cast in lots of parts but also understudying as well, meaning there wasn’t a whole lot of down time during rehearsal.

It’s hard to dance with a full stomach, there also wasn’t always time to eat a full lunch.

I began to realize I could go 4 hours without food, then 5, then 6, my lunch became a granola bar on weekends. 

My clothes started to feel looser once more. I liked how skinny my legs looked in ballet tights. I liked how many vertebrates you could see on my back when I bent over. 

The food noise came back. 

It started to become a competition with myself of how little I could eat and how much I could do. 

Fruit for breakfast became a ritual. 

Lunch was whatever I considered safe. 

Dinner was the smallest portion that seemed normal.

And again. 

I was cold

I was losing hair

I was hangry

I started to have random brain farts in rehearsal from time to time. 

I still had no period.

-

But I liked how when I tried on a tutu it was on the tightest clip.

I liked seeing the bones protrude through my skin. 

I liked how each day was a chance for me to become smaller once more.

I liked how I could beat Catalina from the day before by dancing more and eating less.

-

A lot of people think that people with eating disorders hate food. I think for most people who struggle with them it's actually quite the opposite. 

During both of these periods where I had Anorexia I loved food just as much if not more than other times in my life. 

All I wanted to do was talk about food. 

I loved watching other people eat. 

I loved watching cooking videos on youtube

I loved cooking dinner for my family. 

I loved baking cake with my grandma even if I didn't even have a lick. 

Most of all, I loved cooking for my little brother. 

I would make sure to spread extra butter on his bagel, I would try and scrape every bit of egg off the pan for his burrito, if he wanted ice cream I would give him extra. I think in some ways, feeding and nurturing him extra hard would give me some energy and fuel, even if I didn’t allow myself to taste anything. At least I had the pleasure of making it for others. 

-

Long story short, I couldn’t sustain this lifestyle. No one can. 

I had arguments with my parents. 

A part of me was mad at them for not seeing me, even though I knew they knew I shouldn’t be this skinny. 

Can’t you see how sick I am? Why haven’t you pulled me out from the wave? Why why why can’t you see me?

But I was met with the same response from four years earlier. 

Just eat. 

You have the power to change. 

You love food. 

Just eat. 

All of this is true. But it’s so hard to let go. It’s so hard to stop the rituals and habits I swore by. It’s so hard just to eat. 

But eventually, slowly, each day, I fed myself a bit more.

I released any rules I had around food.

Meat doesn’t make me fat.

Cheese tastes really good.

Gluten doesn’t make me gain weight.

I can have a snack. 

I don’t have to measure a tablespoon of peanut butter. 

It’s ok if I didn’t dance that day. I can still have three full meals. 

It’s ok. 

I started to feel stronger in dance, my hands became warm again, and the bags under my eyes began to fade. 

-

Coming out of this completely was a really long hard trail. And for the most part, I did it alone. I had to teach myself for two years that after the routine of dance stopped in high school I don’t have to workout multiple times a day for it to “count”. I don’t need every meal to be balanced. I don’t need to have certain days to be structured a certain way.

Because the more I stress about it-the closer I am to finding myself in that hole again. 

-

I personally don’t believe you can ever be fully recovered from an eating disorder. Once you think about food in that way it’s never really gone. 

When I eat ice cream with family cuddled up on the couch a part of me is always afraid it will run out too fast. 

When I have pasta at family gatherings I want to savor every bite because it tastes so beautiful. How did I ever let myself be starved of this masterpiece of a meal? 

-

I don’t really know for sure why I had an eating disorder.

Maybe it was because in times of my life where I couldn't control a lot, at least I could control my food and body. 

Maybe it was because I was staring at myself in a leotard every day and comparing myself to every other girl in a leotard. 

Maybe it was because of social media.

Maybe it was because my grandpa had OCD, and this was my way of manifesting that. 

Probably a mix of everything. 

It sometimes is scary to admit I had one. I’m afraid of people's judgements, I’m afraid people will look at me differently.

But I also know admitting it is part of the practice. It’s part of the acceptance. It hopefully will help others who may or did struggle with one also begin to accept it. 

At the very least writing about it helps. 

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I love food. And I’m happy to say that each year my relationship to it has gotten stronger and better. 

I’m still working on the repercussions of what I did to my body but most of all I’m trying to not stress about it each day, as I know that only makes it worse. 

The more I feed myself with love, grace and gratitude the more my body will respond with love, grace and gratitude. 

We are supposed to eat. 

We are supposed to eat real whole foods.

But it’s also ok to have candy ice cream and a burger.

We are supposed to move.

But it’s also ok and needed to have a rest day(s) or even weeks.

Most of all, we are supposed to love ourselves.

We are supposed to feel good, strong and powerful in our bodies. 

It’s not easy. 

But it's a lot harder to live everyday wishing you could be anything but yourself. 

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Resources: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/ 

An account that really helped me:https://www.instagram.com/healthfulradiance/ 

A great Huberman Lab to understand the neurobiology behind eating disorders:https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=1&v=2XGREPnlI8U&embeds_referring_euri=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.hubermanlab.com%2F