Stop asking me how I lost weight

Like basically every female out there, I can testify that the "Freshman Fifteen" is very real.

When I moved away from home, I weighed 124 pounds. I was generally pretty fit, working out multiple times a week, eating pretty healthy.

Within the first semester in college, I had blown up, considering how small I had been before. My mother kept telling me that it was me just "filling out". My boyfriend(now ex :) ) made comments on how I was "getting chubby".

That summer, I went to Paris. And I definitely let myself indulge in all the croissants I could get my hands on.

When I came back from Paris, I weighed about 170 pounds.

That's a lot of weight to gain in a very short amount of time. I don't want to hear any "You're tall, it's okay", "You still looked good!" "That's still small" "Your mom is right, you were just filling out.".

Any or all of those could be accurate. But the means that that weight was gained was unhealthy, and the rate at which it was gained was also not healthy.

When I got back from Paris, I started dating Seth. And by the time we got married, I'd managed to lose basically all of that weight, now fluctuating between 125 and 130 pounds.

A lot of people, specifically people that met me around August-November of last year, have made comments about my weight. And I've dodged that same question, so many times. "How did you lose all that weight?!" They say it like it's so amazing, that someone can lose weight.

First of all, if you want to lose weight, there are healthy ways to do so. You eat right, and you exercise. There are no shortcuts.

However, I didn't take that healthy route.

For about three years, I've struggled with an eating disorder. I've talked about this before, and the reasons behind it isn't something that I really want to get into at the moment. When it started getting really bad was roughly two months into my freshman year in college, two years ago. I wasn't used to my body acting this way when I ate food, and so I fought back, in the most unhealthy way possible. I stopped eating. I would not eat for days, and then binge. So, obviously, I didn't lose weight. In fact, I gained weight.

That continued for about a year.

When I came home from France, I started to feel really sick. I lost my appetite, I found almost no desire to eat. And about a month after that started, I started throwing up. I wasn't physically able to keep anything down.

Because my body was so sick, and rejecting any sort of food, I slowly started to lose weight. I got sick enough that a year ago, over Thanksgiving break, my mother and I dragged my poor boyfriend along with me to 7 different doctors appointments over the course of just 2 days. Acupuncturists, blood work, my primary doctor, MRIs, the works. It was kind of a stressful few days.

And the stupidest part, is that I did it to myself. I literally did it to myself. Shortly after this "hell week", I was diagnosed with Panic disorder. My anxiety levels had reached such a high point that it was causing me to be physically ill.

Once I learned to manage my body and emotions better, a lot of the sickness went away. It was now just an occasional sickness. And I had dealt with it long enough that I was, for the most part, able to handle it and appear to be functioning at a normal level.

Because I was able to eat, again, I started gaining weight again. Which is absolutely natural.

So what did I do?

I stopped eating. And I started throwing up.

Seth was gone from January-March earlier this year.

The first thing he said when he saw me again?

"Wow, you're tiny."

I'd starved myself to reach this sickly ideal. Literally, sickly.

It's something I deal with, I'm learning to cope with.

I've received, and continue to receive, help. I've gained some weight since I got married, and most of me is okay with that fact. I'm being healthy.

I'm not writing this to have people more worried about me.

I'm writing this to say that being skinny isn't, and shouldn't, be a desirable goal. I may be skinny, but that doesn't mean that I'm healthy.

For some people, it is.

I just want people to stop looking at me in awe, "wow, tell me your secrets!" The secret is to hate yourself and your body and push yourself past the limits.

So don't follow in my footsteps. I'm not a good role model.

Stop asking me how I lost weight. Stop asking me how I manage to be so skinny.

"It's all in your head"

There are a lot of mixed ideas about anxiety. And unless you have anxiety, it's hard to really understand what the big deal is. Before I had my first attack, I honestly thought it was people overreacting.

But then you get hit with an attack and you literally don't know how to deal with it. Because it's a brand new sensation, one you never want to relive. It's one of those things that, when you explain it to someone who doesn't suffer from anxiety, they simply don't get it. Like you once were, they think it's all in your head.

But that's the thing. It IS all in your head.

That doesn't make it any less credible, less painful, or less significant. It's just simply that it's a mental disorder, and those without it, can't wrap their heads around it.

I've had people tell me to just deal with it. That it's not a big deal. That I probably have some other sort of problem that I'm overlooking, a bigger problem. I've been told to focus on other things, rather than my attack.

You wouldn't tell someone with the flu to simply "not think about it", right? Because if you stop thinking about your physical ailment, you'll be cured, right?

No.

I'm not saying positive energy doesn't help. I'm just saying that it's a lot more complicated than that.

Everyone experiences anxiety slightly differently. I mean, it's not a cookie cutter thing.

The first time you have one is possibly one of the most terrifying attacks you'll ever have. And it'll hit you at a time you didn't expect. You knew that the bell tower made you feel uncomfortable, but you had no idea it would make your head spin. Sirens had always made your hair stand on end, but the helplessness you feel just doesn't make sense.

It's a hot, trapped pain in your chest. You feel tight and irritable. That's how I know it's coming. my chest just feels constricted by something so incredibly warm in the most uncomfortable way, and you want so desperately to escape but you simply can't.

As the attack intensifies, your heart rate sky-rockets. Your breathing becomes shallow and quick, as your mind is filled with panic-ridden thoughts. You want to cry, and sometimes do, from the physical and emotional pain of it all.

Sometimes it passes quickly. Sometimes it's only a few minutes of headache and tears. But sometimes it can last much longer.

The whole time the attack is going on, you just feel despair. You don't know what to do, or how to handle it, as hot tears roll down your cheeks. You feel at a loss. You feel miserable, and in pain. And you just want it to stop. And you don't have control over it.

This is how anxiety feels.

It's not a hopeless cause though, as it seems. During attacks, it honestly feels like nothing you could do could fix it. You feel so powerless.

But there are ways that I've learned that have helped considerably. At the beginning, when I start to feel hot and tight, I do temperature and texture changes. I clutch an ice cube, run my hands under cold water, or step outside. I have certain procedures that I do whenever I feel an attack coming. It's almost reflex. If the temperature doesn't lessen or stop it enough, I grab a fuzzy blanket and rub it between my fingers. I know it seems silly, it's almost a security blanket.

There are definitely ways to prevent or lessen the pain that is afflicted when an attack hits.

The thing that makes it the easiest to go through is knowing there's someone that will empathize with you after. Bonnie doesn't feel what I'm feeling, but she doesn't discredit my mental state or my emotions, and we work out what triggered the attack, so I can learn to prevent a future one.

Anxiety is a delicate thing. Treat those who suffer with love. Don't put down their emotions because you don't understand. That's honestly the worst thing you could do. even if you don't necessarily seek to understand why or what is happening, at least empathize.