3. the more you know...about how quarantine affected my eating and exercise disorder
content warning: eating disorders
*content warning: this newsletter contains information about eating disorders, which can be triggering for some readers.*
good morning everyone!
happy Sunday. before we really get into things, I’d like to welcome all the new TMYK subscribers! I don’t know what made you sign up to read more of the hot garbage that comes flying out of my brain, but I am quite appreciative that you’re here.
I started today’s essay at the beginning of May, when I still had dreams of a post-pandemic autumn and when the state of our country was only Extremely Disappointing and not yet Catastrophically Bad.
Since that time, SO MUCH has happened.
Needless to say, writing about my eating disorder as an able-bodied, cisgender white woman hasn’t felt like a priority. But expressing these things is cathartic for me; a way to get out of my own head and heal, thus being able to give more time and attention to helping our world. I also think this essay can serve as a reminder to anyone who feels “stuck” in diet culture—which often dictates what we say about our bodies, how we fuel them, and how we move them—especially amid this pandemic. so I hope you glean something from this. <3
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I had undiagnosed orthorexia from my senior year of high school until well into my college years, and even now I still have “relapses.” In college, I was able to disguise obsessive-compulsive disordered eating and exercise habits because everyone was busy doing their own thing. Also, I’m Type-A and a Virgo, so all of the folks I hung around with thought I was just being “on-brand.” Which…valid.
I planned everything. I was involved in multiple student organizations, worked two jobs, had an internship almost every semester, and also created and helmed a magazine. I wrote a to-do list for Friday nights in and scheduled coffee with friends four weeks in advance.
(Yes, I’m insufferable, but that is not the point here.)
When I moved to New York City after graduation, I kept up that “#girlboss culture” behavior. I was told by professors, internship supervisors, and mentors that when you work in media, you have to HUSTLE. You have to GRIND. You have to say “yes” to everything because New York stops for NO ONE, so you better sprint, sister.
And sprint I did.
Bear in mind that my body was not built for running. It burns out quickly.
After somehow managing to nab a cycling instructor position at Equinox and my First Real Media Job, I was feeling like maybe I had conditioned myself to become a runner, after all. I was only home to sleep and eat breakfast, and I was even dipping my toes into the abyss of 20-something men (bad choice, immediately regretted). I still planned everything from my meals to which workout to book on ClassPass each day, but I hardly had time to ruminate on how many calories I was burning or what my body looked like, so naturally, I thought I was healing. And in a sense, I was.
But inside, I was burning out. Like I said, I wasn’t built for running.
And then, well, you know. COVID.
The sprint was put to a grinding halt just as I began gasping for air. In a twisted sense, I felt relieved.
I decided that it was in my best interest for my mental and physical health to temporarily move back to PA with my parents. I quickly fell into a consistent quaroutine: wake up, coffee, work, work out, dinner, family time, sleep. I didn’t wear makeup or put on nice clothes. I left the house only to walk and get groceries. I watched everything on my Netflix list within a month and suddenly lost the ability to retain information from books. There came a point where there was nothing I could do to distract myself from thinking.
And thinking.
And thinkingandthinkingandthinking.
I looked back on my habit of constantly distracting myself and saw it for what it was: a coping mechanism. I thought I’d been “healed” and “recovered” for the past few years, given that I wasn’t engaging as much in over-exercising and calorie restriction. But in reality, I was just repressing all my uncomfortable feelings about food and my body—the very things that led me to my eating disorder in the first place.
Hate to break it to you, friends, but that’s not recovery. It’s actually just a cover-up. And it took a literal pandemic for me to figure that out.
You gotta lean in. Feel all the ugly feelings. Let them bubble up and be gross and icky and uncomfortable.
I began going to therapy for the first real time (except a brief stint in high school, which was against my will). It changed everything.
If you also have a strained relationship with your body, I’ve learned that it’s well worth it to do some introspection. When something makes you feel some type of way, put on your archaeology gear and excavate it. Sit with it. Practice mindfulness and constantly ask yourself: what would make me feel good right now? Not, “What would look good on Instagram?” or “How does this trainer work out?”—something I’m very guilty of.
Another such question to ask yourself is this:
Seriously, write that down. It’ll change your life.
It is an immense privilege to say that being in quarantine has given me a safe space to deeply understand where my anxieties lie so that I can do the work of unlearning old habits. It is a privilege to be able to devote time and money to my mental health instead of figuring out how to meet my basic needs like millions of other Americans right now.
And it’s easy to feel guilty about having that time when so many are suffering. But one thing I’m often reminded of is the sentiment that you can’t pour from an empty cup. A few months ago, when I was caught up in that distraction mindset, I was of absolutely no use as an advocate for marginalized communities.
That leaves 20 percent for everything else.
So when you stop sprinting for just a minute and do the inner work of healing yourself, you become a more effective vessel of service, activism, and love. Your heart is more open to the needs of others because you’re attentive to the needs of yourself.
Taking care of yourself, my friends, is a political action.
something that made my life easier this week:
This cleansing balm from Naturopathica ($62). It is one of the only skincare products that I purchased with my own money—most I get for free…#workperks—which is a resounding endorsement in and of itself. Cleansing balms, for the uninitiated, are gentle cleansers that feel a little like Vaseline. They’re often used as part of a double cleansing routine. This balm is formulated with soothing and clarifying manuka honey, peptides to help increase skin cell turnover, and some beautiful oils to lock in moisture. It makes my skin feel so soft and quenched—especially in the colder months when I’m prone to dehydration.
To use, smooth the cleansing balm over dry skin and gently work it into your skin with your fingers to dissolve makeup and grime. Rinse with a washcloth, and follow with a gel or foaming cleanser, or just pat dry and follow with moisturizer.
worth the read: wow, no thank you by Samantha Irby
not sharing an article this week because if I’m being honest, I didn’t read any. this is my current bedtime book and oh my goodness, it is splendid. I’ve been a fan of Irby since I read a previous book of her essays, and was thrilled when wow, no thank you came out in August. She writes crass, hilarious anecdotes about things that many of us can relate to: getting our periods, dating questionable people, taking our pets to the vet, making friends as adults, having explosive bathroom issues while out with our friends, etc. Here’s an excerpt. God, I laugh so hard every single night. It is so important to end your night on a joyful note, and friends, this is a spectacular way to accomplish that (especially if you’re single, if you know what I mean).
give these a listen:
“The Blessing,” Kari Jobe and Cody Carnes-
this song gets me weepy every. time. a few weeks ago, I had to do the difficult work of releasing someone who I’ve been holding onto for too long. I sat on my floor and bawled my eyes out, kept this song on repeat, and sang with that person in mind, repeating the bridge, “may His favor be upon you for a thousand generations, and your family, and your children, and their children, and their children…” over and over until I let go of my bitterness, rage, and despair.
I get skeptical sometimes, especially in this spiritual and moral and political climate, whether the God I knew as a child is listening and acting. but when you can physically feel a burden being lifted as you lay crumpled on the floor, it is quite difficult to doubt God’s power.
my life is better since watching this: The O.C.
have I already written about how much I adore early aughts television? If not, now you know. The O.C. is basically a West Coast version of Gossip Girl (another one of my faves), filled with 28-year-old actors playing high school students, low-rise jeans, McMansions, really stark highlights, and so. many. Ralph Lauren polos.
the unrealistic plot lines, played-out stereotypes, and petty drama will satiate your desperate desire for low-stakes conflict…since literally everything we’re living through right now has dire consequences. find The O.C. on HBO Max.
the internet isn’t all bad:
pure, wholesome joy.
NEW SECTION ALERT! talking points:
My sweet friend Shruthi sent me a DM this week suggesting that I add a section about current events, or something else that I’d like to highlight and hear from you about.
So yes, this means you have homework!
This week’s talking point: Due to the ongoing pandemic, Broadway announced the theaters would stay dark until at least May 2021. What do you envision the future of theatre and the arts looks like in a post-pandemic world?
Your job: Comment on this post and tell me! Get creative—this isn’t a test, and you’re not an epidemiologist, so no need to try and be “right.”
congrats! you made it!
that’s all from The More You Know today. leave a comment, DM me on Instagram, like my tweets, and pleasepleaseplease, if you enjoyed this, share it with your friends and coerce them into subscribing. oh, and if you have suggestions or ideas for things I should write about, send ‘em my way.
toodle-oo pals, catch you next Sunday.
Sarah! This was so good. So real and raw- thank you for sharing your experiences with your community. I can’t believe you went with my idea to incorporate a chatter section, but yay!
First of all, see, that’s insane bc I did not have any idea about the Broadway news since I’m not living in NYC but it’s so upsetting! My heart hurts for the aspiring Broadway stars but I do think it’s the healthiest and safest option to shut down until that time period. To me, the future of creative arts feels like it’s going to take a creative turn that no one has anticipated purely bc they weren’t ever forced to think creatively from a production point of view. This pandemic hopefully makes their talent and art more accessible to folks all around the world, and who knows maybe their community will enjoy the new ways to enjoy their art! It looks like to me, movies and shows have already been embracing the streaming services since theaters were closed for a while- I’m excited to see if something similar like a streaming service for Broadway will be implemented in the near future!