I had* ED

And that’s eating disorder.. not erectile dysfunction…

The first time I ever heard someone speak about the “mans ED” was in college.

Which is also where I learned what eating disorders are. I was also told in college that ED never goes away and for many people the end game is death.

I sat there thinking “this isn’t me, I don’t have an eating disorder”

Even now I don’t like to admit this. To me, it’s like admitting I murdered someone. But I see it all the time online – other dietitians being so open about ED and the recovery process. I did always say that most of us become dietitians because of our unhealthy obsession with food… Even then I was denying that I was one of them when internally I knew that wasn’t true.

But here’s the thing.. I can remember the day it happened. The day I snapped.

I was 13, we lived in Iowa, we were moving to Arkansas, our living room was blue.

I was eating a huge bowl of buttered popcorn (something you can still find me doing to this day) and at this time in my life I was really into facials.

My father, who had no idea what this would do to me, made a comment about having to cut a hole into the washcloth so I could shove the popcorn in my face.

It was nearly instantaneous.

I didn’t finish the popcorn that night. But it became my binge a few years later.

I actually didn’t eat for three days after this incident. I already felt I couldn’t control my life (this move to Arkansas was just over a dozen moves we made growing up). I was losing the first friends I had ever not wanted to leave. I had a life there. The move was not exciting like it was for me growing up… I loved it when dad would come home and announce another move. We’d get all excited and start packing our bags, and the adventure would begin.

We didn’t do vacations. We moved.

This time it was different.

And for some reason, controlling my food helped me deal. Feeling my pants get looser knowing that I did that. I made that happen. And that thought made me feel like I was in total control.

After we arrived to Arkansas – running became the second part of the issue.

I used to tell everyone that running became my outlet because my freshman year of high school was the sort of hell you see in the movies.

Which is true in a sense..I was picked on so badly that I began having panic attacks in the bathroom, I’d run out of class without permission when I felt them coming on. The principal called me an illegal alien and tried to kick me out of school (my mom raised hell), I was placed in remedial classes even though I was suppose to be in AP in Iowa (and their reasoning was because Iowa was not on par with Arkansas school systems… Iowa was ranked top ten and Arkansas was bottom five…) and the classes made school not only insufferable but I didn’t learn a damn thing my freshman year. And then the things kids did to me were horrendous and quite frankly, unfair. Once I had my entire bottom (underwear included) torn off in front of all of the football team by a girl who I had actually considered a friend. There are just some things a 13 year old girl shouldn’t have to deal with. But it happens.

I didn’t have much to turn to except my eating (or lack thereof) and that same year I picked up running.

All I can say, if you want an entire school to leave you alone… pour iced tea on the bully and become a good athlete.

And that’s exactly what I did.

But I also picked up an unhealthy habit of becoming the best long distance runner in that school while simultaneously becoming the skinniest.

I was so restrictive on my diet. I would get online and read and read and read about how to eat and what other exercises to do to become a better runner. And I was like Forrest Gump.. I ran before school, I ran at school, I ran on the weekends. I also played volleyball all year long (7th period athletics!), ran cross country (the running before school) and I took dance once or twice a week.  I rode my bike and lifted weights three days a week.

I could spout off all the nutritional profile of any given food.

I wonder how I had time to breathe. I did everything. And I did it all eating a small grilled chicken breast, iceberg lettuce and lots of croutons, because carbs were SO important to my running.

I was obsessed with weighing myself… every day, morning and night. And sometimes just for fun in between on the weekends.

Seeing that number go down and down and down was a rush to me.

And then I hit 99 lbs.

And I pushed and worked out more and then I finally hit 95.

I was estatic. I was a great runner. I became a model.

No, I really did become a model. I was praised everywhere for being skinny, pretty, smart, a good athlete and a model. Things couldn’t get any better. No one picked on me. But I was still an outcast. I had a few good friends but going out was scary to me. I couldn’t control my food. My idea of fun was binging on a Friday or Saturday night after my various sports meets on a large bowl of popcorn (sans butter this time) which is so ironic because that was what started this whole thing.

When I hit this weight I remember trying so hard to keep it a secret… We had a health screening for athletes at the beginning of the school year and I wore a large baggy sweater and picked up rocks to put in all my pockets to keep my weight above 100 lbs.

Another peer of mine was taking weights when I walked in and she turned to her friends and had made a comment that she was no longer the skinniest in the school.. “See… Tracie Blair weighs less than me”.

I got through without a problem and went on to play all my sports.

And then it happened. I broke my foot.

Three stress fractures on the right foot. I was put out. But before they found them with an MRI I went to all sorts of doctors. I remember talking about the fact that I was almost 18 but hadn’t started my period, that yes I exercise all the time but I EAT and I eat very healthfully.

Not a single doctor suggested that I had the female athlete triad. Not a single one of them said a word about a possible eating disorder. And I in no way thought I had one either.

After I broke my foot… I rode bikes all the time, still lifted weights. I gained some weight. I started eating a bit more and just sort of started enjoying life.

And then I was turned away from a modeling job for being “too big” – I weighed between 105 – 110 lbs.

I ran out of that boutique with tears in my eyes. I was called back and offered a job by the lady who actually owned the store… but I said no. I quit modeling that day. Completely. But just like with the popcorn incident I spiraled back out of control.

I got back down to 100 lbs… but somehow during my Senior year I got my weight back up. I was more focused on recovery and getting strong again. I graduated with a cross country scholarship and went on to run in college.

I was still obsessive and everyone knew it. I was once banned from running outside of team workouts or doing extra work (lifting, swimming, biking) by my coach… So I would just wake up at three in the morning and go on my runs before the town woke up.

I was less strict on food. But it still happened. I gave myself tendonitis in my hip flexors. I couldn’t even walk up a flight of stairs.

I can’t even explain, nor do I want to share, what caused the ups and downs after this year.

In the same way I abused food and exercise I began abusing alcohol. I became an insomniac and I was so depressed – without running or other exercise and with the copious amounts I was drinking I went to some really dark places.

I’d be awake at three in the morning so I’d go in these long walks in the middle of middle of the night. It must have been winter because I’d be so cold when I got back that my bones hurt.

At this time in my life I must have been hard to deal with because the ones that I considered friends turned their back on me.

My roommates told me I had to move out of the dorm. Instead of lending a helping hand I felt like everyone wanted rid of me. My coach, who actually later would accuse me of trying to sabotage the cross country team, backed them up and refused to help me find new roommates. Luckily there were people who took me in in the second semester.

I felt that I was disposable.

I had an argument with one of the girls when I was leaving and I tried to point out the fact that she had once acted similar… “this isn’t about me and my past Tracie, this is about you”. And off she went to bible study… why was I fighting to stay with people like that anyway?

I felt like I had no one.

Well, there was one single person who sat in front of me one day in the cafeteria and told me he thought I had a drinking problem.

I told him to go to hell.

Eventually, exercise got me out of this black pit. Though I nearly lost all my scholarships that spring semester due to the fact I never went to class… I am unbelievably lucky to have had professors who listened (even though I lied about what was going on with me) and they all gave me extra work to help bring up my grades… and I did it. I worked my ass off and kept my grades good enough to keep my scholarship.

And somewhere along the way I stopped restricting myself.

I started eating nuts and cheese when I made it to grad school… things I’d never touch before. I didn’t try and replace all the fat in recipes with bananas or applesauce. I bounced around still struggling with depression, panic anxiety and weight fluctuations.. but again, thats what grad school does to us right?

To shorten this story I will fast forward to now.

Somewhere along the way I learned that I don’t have to schedule my meals and eat every two hours on the two hours (like a crossfit workout lol). I learned that I have a hard time putting down the alcohol, so I drink less often. I know I will become obsessed with weight – so I hardly ever weigh myself. And when I do I remind myself of how strong I am.

For the first time ever, I feel confident taking my shirt off at the gym and wearing regular bikini cut bikini bottoms, both of these things happened in the last two years… I’ll be 30 in Feb.

I enjoy and truly love food. I love teaching others to love food. And I hate that we promote “diets” that are very similar to an eating disorder but since it’s been branded and marketed it is socially acceptable to cut out entire food groups, drink only liquids or just not eat for days.

Anyway, for my own story…There is so much here I didn’t mention or couldn’t fit…  I can’t tell you when it all came together for me, I can only tell you that it did.

And I’m happy

*I’m not sure if ED ever really goes away. I know it’s considered a mental illness as well as a disease. But it’s one we thrust upon ourselves on onto one another with our thoughts, our words and our actions. Be kind to others, but most importantly, be kind to yourself