In case you were late to the party, I am a published columnist and writer.
You're welcome.
http://theprojector.ca/stories/view/ingrids-impressions
http://theprojector.ca/stories/view/dude-do-you-have-a-hair-elastic
Sincerely,
Ingrid
Saturday 13 December 2014
An Overdue Farewell Letter to my Eating Disorder
This is a tough post to write. Maybe I'm writing this because the new year is looming over us, maybe because I'm sentimental with the end of my first semester, or maybe it's because I recently wrote my personal essay on this subject and got me thinking.
Regardless, I want to write this.
A year ago, I was diagnosed with severe bulimia and anorexia, and had to undergo intense treatment at the rehabilitation program for eating disorders for three months at HSC. I suffered with the illness since I was 14 years old, and was tormented for eight and a half years before treatment. I cannot sum up what it's like, but to put it bluntly, it sucked.
For years I would conjure up unethical rules for eating, alienated myself from my friends, had extreme self-loathing towards myself, became a slave to the app My Fitnesspal and scale numbers, obsessed over clothing sizes, the list is ongoing and endless.
I have heard many people and read many articles that it's a "vain illness," which is the farthest thing from the truth.
Every waking moment of my life, I was thinking about food. Which meals I could skip that would go unnoticed, how many calories is in what I'm eating, how I can slip away to the washroom to purge up what I ate, if I eat this then I can't eat that........it never ended.
I would have reoccurring nightmares of being obese, and wake up in cold sweats, and cry myself back to sleep. I would clutch my stomach every morning, reassuring myself it was still concave. I would stare at myself in the mirror, pinching my flesh, telling my reflection I was worthless and people would like me better if I was skinny.
My body image was so contorted. I saw a 170-pound girl in the mirror, oppose to the 108-pound girl looking at herself with extreme distaste.
The lowest weight I reached was 99 pounds, and I remember feeling euphoric when I saw the numbers on the scale. I was determined to reach my next goal weight of 95 pounds. I didn't understand that low weights were extremely unhealthy and dangerous, and I learnt from a nutritionist that my real weight should be 125 pounds. I was in a blind frenzy for unattainable perfection.
I feel as if I had two people living inside of me, bulimia and anorexia. We were a sick, twisted family of three, and I welcomed them into my life, and could not rid myself of them.
I'll never forget the day my family found out. I had become an expert liar, and hid my body under loose cardigans. My best friend had secretly texted my younger sister pictures of my body I had taken, of my protruding ribs and clavicle bone. My sister showed my mother and oh boy, tears and screaming matches ensued.
After months of broken promises, lies and tears, I reluctantly and resentfully agreed to meet with a psychologist and was, against my wishes, enrolled into rehab. It felt like a death sentence.
It was the most intense experience of my life. It was 12 hours of intense discussions, food, and hell. I came home emotionally and physically drained, and cried every day. I was bloated and disgusting. I felt like I was being stuffed like a turkey for Thanksgiving dinner. Ana and Mia (the terms for anorexia and bulimia) were kicking and screaming within me, telling me to leave, that they were trying to sabotage my life. I wanted to give in to their demands so badly, but with lots of pushing, I trekked on with treatment.
Slowly, veryyyyyyyyyyy slowly, I stopped having anxiety over food. I began to look in the mirror without cringing. I didn't mind that I couldn't fit into my 00 jeans. I enjoyed food. I enjoyed life. I left the program as a new human being, just as myself, no two evil voices in my head. I was free.
Of course, I will never truly be rid of my demons. I still yearn for a smaller figure, I do get nervous about eating certain foods, and I do sometimes feel down about my body. But, hey, I tell myself everyday that I am so much more than numbers and bones.
I never step on scales anymore, I don't count calories, and I've deleted any fitness app off my phone. I get excited to go out for meals, and have become a more confident and pleasant human being.
During treatment, I was given an assignment to write a farewell letter to my eating disorder, and I never did. Until now.
So this is for you, anorexia and bulimia. So long, I'll miss you never, don't ever step foot in my life again, you'll be shunned. You do not shape me into the person I want to be, you are not welcome in my life.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to finish every bite of these delicious chocolate chip pancakes, loaded with maple syrup and butter. Adieu, adieu.
Sincerely,
Ingrid
Regardless, I want to write this.
A year ago, I was diagnosed with severe bulimia and anorexia, and had to undergo intense treatment at the rehabilitation program for eating disorders for three months at HSC. I suffered with the illness since I was 14 years old, and was tormented for eight and a half years before treatment. I cannot sum up what it's like, but to put it bluntly, it sucked.
For years I would conjure up unethical rules for eating, alienated myself from my friends, had extreme self-loathing towards myself, became a slave to the app My Fitnesspal and scale numbers, obsessed over clothing sizes, the list is ongoing and endless.
I have heard many people and read many articles that it's a "vain illness," which is the farthest thing from the truth.
Every waking moment of my life, I was thinking about food. Which meals I could skip that would go unnoticed, how many calories is in what I'm eating, how I can slip away to the washroom to purge up what I ate, if I eat this then I can't eat that........it never ended.
I would have reoccurring nightmares of being obese, and wake up in cold sweats, and cry myself back to sleep. I would clutch my stomach every morning, reassuring myself it was still concave. I would stare at myself in the mirror, pinching my flesh, telling my reflection I was worthless and people would like me better if I was skinny.
My body image was so contorted. I saw a 170-pound girl in the mirror, oppose to the 108-pound girl looking at herself with extreme distaste.
The lowest weight I reached was 99 pounds, and I remember feeling euphoric when I saw the numbers on the scale. I was determined to reach my next goal weight of 95 pounds. I didn't understand that low weights were extremely unhealthy and dangerous, and I learnt from a nutritionist that my real weight should be 125 pounds. I was in a blind frenzy for unattainable perfection.
I feel as if I had two people living inside of me, bulimia and anorexia. We were a sick, twisted family of three, and I welcomed them into my life, and could not rid myself of them.
I'll never forget the day my family found out. I had become an expert liar, and hid my body under loose cardigans. My best friend had secretly texted my younger sister pictures of my body I had taken, of my protruding ribs and clavicle bone. My sister showed my mother and oh boy, tears and screaming matches ensued.
After months of broken promises, lies and tears, I reluctantly and resentfully agreed to meet with a psychologist and was, against my wishes, enrolled into rehab. It felt like a death sentence.
It was the most intense experience of my life. It was 12 hours of intense discussions, food, and hell. I came home emotionally and physically drained, and cried every day. I was bloated and disgusting. I felt like I was being stuffed like a turkey for Thanksgiving dinner. Ana and Mia (the terms for anorexia and bulimia) were kicking and screaming within me, telling me to leave, that they were trying to sabotage my life. I wanted to give in to their demands so badly, but with lots of pushing, I trekked on with treatment.
Slowly, veryyyyyyyyyyy slowly, I stopped having anxiety over food. I began to look in the mirror without cringing. I didn't mind that I couldn't fit into my 00 jeans. I enjoyed food. I enjoyed life. I left the program as a new human being, just as myself, no two evil voices in my head. I was free.
Of course, I will never truly be rid of my demons. I still yearn for a smaller figure, I do get nervous about eating certain foods, and I do sometimes feel down about my body. But, hey, I tell myself everyday that I am so much more than numbers and bones.
I never step on scales anymore, I don't count calories, and I've deleted any fitness app off my phone. I get excited to go out for meals, and have become a more confident and pleasant human being.
During treatment, I was given an assignment to write a farewell letter to my eating disorder, and I never did. Until now.
So this is for you, anorexia and bulimia. So long, I'll miss you never, don't ever step foot in my life again, you'll be shunned. You do not shape me into the person I want to be, you are not welcome in my life.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to finish every bite of these delicious chocolate chip pancakes, loaded with maple syrup and butter. Adieu, adieu.
Sincerely,
Ingrid
Bissous Bissous Section 1
These past few days have been unexpectedly emotional for me. I've already seen a couple posts bidding farewell from other classmates, but I need to write my proper send off too.
Yesterday was the very last day my CreComm section and I were officially together as a class. I'm actually so heartbroken, and my resting bitch face showed emotion, with tears welled up in my eyes (at home, I don't do tears in public....usually).
I don't know where to begin, so I'm just going to jump right into it.
With the new semester just around the corner (cliche, sue me) my clique is being torn apart and thrown into new classes. I've grown so accustomed to everyone's faces, and I've made some life long friends.
Like many of my other classmates, I came into this program expecting to not make friends, play hard, do my thing, come out on top and peace out into the world. Not true. Like sooooooo not true. Within the first week, I realized I was among people just as weird as me, and I've never felt like I belonged somewhere so much until entering this program.
I've never met a clan of guys n gals who are so intelligent, creative, goofy and cool. We've been through so much together: receiving our first, second .....countless auto fails, doing streeters, editing each others work, going in front of the camera and easing each others nerves, interviewing mayoral candidates....the list is endless.
Through all our hardships, we've become so close and I feel like I can truly be myself in front of everyone, and not afraid to be who I am. You guys, we are basically like the non-judgmental breakfast club. Chic.
You've all accepted my "Ingridisms" (lametrons), support my man bun obsession, don't call me out when I wear Uggs to school, have my back in tough situations, listen to me rant about everything, laugh at my loser jokes (ok, they're brilliant), and give me the most unreal compliments that boost my confidence (telling me I could be a character of Gossip Girl is tres fab).
We've all become a close knit family, so the end of classes and commencement of the holidays are extremely bittersweet. Please, I know we all say "we'll keep in touch," but let's actually do that, OKAY??!!! Okay.
To all of you guys, keep doing your thing, you're all so outstanding. Continue to trek through the tough times, we will all win at life and accomplish what we set out to do. Paraphrasing Scott, I to believe that the first section you're with is with you for life. I wish you all the best and truly want all of you to be super successful in your future endeavours.
LOVE YOU ALL!!! xoxoxoxoxoxo
Sincerely,
Ingrid
Ps. When times are tough, we can always vent over liquid lunches at one of the numerous bars down the street.
Yesterday was the very last day my CreComm section and I were officially together as a class. I'm actually so heartbroken, and my resting bitch face showed emotion, with tears welled up in my eyes (at home, I don't do tears in public....usually).
I don't know where to begin, so I'm just going to jump right into it.
With the new semester just around the corner (cliche, sue me) my clique is being torn apart and thrown into new classes. I've grown so accustomed to everyone's faces, and I've made some life long friends.
Like many of my other classmates, I came into this program expecting to not make friends, play hard, do my thing, come out on top and peace out into the world. Not true. Like sooooooo not true. Within the first week, I realized I was among people just as weird as me, and I've never felt like I belonged somewhere so much until entering this program.
I've never met a clan of guys n gals who are so intelligent, creative, goofy and cool. We've been through so much together: receiving our first, second .....countless auto fails, doing streeters, editing each others work, going in front of the camera and easing each others nerves, interviewing mayoral candidates....the list is endless.
Through all our hardships, we've become so close and I feel like I can truly be myself in front of everyone, and not afraid to be who I am. You guys, we are basically like the non-judgmental breakfast club. Chic.
You've all accepted my "Ingridisms" (lametrons), support my man bun obsession, don't call me out when I wear Uggs to school, have my back in tough situations, listen to me rant about everything, laugh at my loser jokes (ok, they're brilliant), and give me the most unreal compliments that boost my confidence (telling me I could be a character of Gossip Girl is tres fab).
We've all become a close knit family, so the end of classes and commencement of the holidays are extremely bittersweet. Please, I know we all say "we'll keep in touch," but let's actually do that, OKAY??!!! Okay.
To all of you guys, keep doing your thing, you're all so outstanding. Continue to trek through the tough times, we will all win at life and accomplish what we set out to do. Paraphrasing Scott, I to believe that the first section you're with is with you for life. I wish you all the best and truly want all of you to be super successful in your future endeavours.
LOVE YOU ALL!!! xoxoxoxoxoxo
Sincerely,
Ingrid
Ps. When times are tough, we can always vent over liquid lunches at one of the numerous bars down the street.
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