Being Ok With Me

At the begging of this last summer, I decided enough was enough. I had spent the last two years of college eating my feelings in junk food. Late night McDonalds runs almost always occurred. At first it started out as a social way to meet people, but the habit developed into something worse. I felt so alone. Even when I made some friendships I felt horrible inside. I could not get out of bed most days. I ate as much junk food as I could without getting sick. I needed to eat to distract myself from my looming depression. I did not know what depression really meant at the time. I knew it was linked to anxiety, which I struggled with on a daily basis. However, I was fully unable to recognize the symptoms. My grades plummeted and my life felt sufficiently empty. The next two years I learned about depression and found healthy ways to deal with my anxiety and depression. I got a lot better, but my eating did not. Most people love to talk about the eating disorders revolved around body image. Serious and true as they are, there is another eating disorder I think is over looked: over eating. I ate not because I needed to or that I was always hungry, I ate to feel better in that moment. Whenever I had a bad thought, I grabbed a pint of ice cream and ate it all...almost nightly. Even though my anxiety and depression were fading fast, I still had no idea how to treat my body right. I hated exercise. I never wanted to take the time out of my day to do it. I ate all the junk because I had grown so used to it, it was almost an addiction. I gained weight fast. Over the course of 2 years, I gained at least 50 pounds. At the time, I avoided scales like none other. I never wanted to know how much I weighed. I began to develop a very negative self image. I would look at much skinnier girls around me and be overcome by jealousy. Why couldn't I look like that? I became a little obsessed. Worrying about my constant gain of weight and wondering if I'd ever feel good about myself. My family started to voice their deep concerns. I never wanted to listen. They should love me no matter what size I am, I would always think. I believe they did, and do still, but were worried about how fast I put on weight. By the end of my sophomore year in college, I was sick of it. Sick of feeling so gross  physically and mentally. I decided to turn my life around and kick the junk food out of my life. I began counting calories and exercising two times a day, five days a week. It was surprisingly a lot easier than I thought it would be. I found myself feeling a million times better. Over the course of 4 months, I lost all 50 pounds I had gained in college. A huge accomplishment. However even though my physical health was back in check, my mental health was not. I got obsessed. I weighed myself twice a week, and if I found I had gained a pound, I spun into a spiral of wallowing. I was way to hard on myself. I would get a panic attack any time I ate anything considered unhealthy. It got so bad that I started being insecure in my personal relationships as well. My parents and best friend slapped some sense into me. My best friend took away my scale, forcing me to reflect on my feelings towards myself. I was still placing too much value on what others thought of me. I took a three week break from my normal workout routine, and finally, got my head on straight. I see myself and am so proud of what I have accomplished and the beautiful girl I see in the mirror. It is still an ongoing battle. I still catch myself comparing my body to others and being harsh on myself when I have a piece of chocolate. However I have gotten a billion times better. I have started to see me as me. My emotions are balanced and so is my lifestyle. I love who I am and would not change for anything in the world.