My Story on Run This World with Nicole DeBoom

Trigger Warning: General discussion of depression, self-harm, and disordered eating.

It's been awhile since I've written anything about my history with self-harm, and it's probably been even longer since I've just come out and said it so bluntly: I have a history with self-harm.

I'd say, too, that I have a present with self-harm, in the sense that I sometimes still think about it. Like I told Nicole when she interviewed me for her podcast, I liken self-harm to being an addict. My grandpa, an ex-smoker, once told me he didn't consider himself a recovered smoker; he considered himself a smoker who hadn't lit up in 40 years. To me, self-harm feels very much the same.

I've buried the lede a bit there, but give me a second.

It has been nearly 15 years since I last hurt myself. It's been about 11 since I engaged in dangerous disordered eating habits. But those things will always be a part of me. They played a role in making me who I am - which is a person who has overcome those things and feels stronger and more confident for having done so.

I wanted to speak with honesty and sincerity, and I hope I have. I hope my story sheds some light on what depression can look like for young women (or at least, for this young woman) and on how finding a healthy, joyful coping mechanism can be truly life-saving.

Trigger Warning: Nicole reached out to me with the specific hopes of talking about my experience with depression, self-harm, and disordered eating, and for a little over an hour, that's exactly what we did. I never go into gruesome detail, speaking instead in euphemisms and generalities, but if you're not in a place to listen to that kind of subject matter, definitely skip this episode of the podcast.

If you listen, I hope you'll be open-minded and understanding. It was hard to put myself out there in this way, although Nicole was such a wonderful host that the conversation really felt natural from the start. The topic is hard, though. Revisiting that dark mindset is hard. Sharing this part of myself makes me feel vulnerable, but it also makes me feel powerful.

I went through this. It's a part of me. I'm still here, and I'm stronger than ever.

If you'd like to listen, here is the the Sound Cloud link. You can also listen on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

You can also read Nicole's blog and listen to the podcast on the Skirt Sports website.

Click for the full article.

I feel lucky that I am here to share this story. If any of this resonates, I hope it helps to know that you're not alone.

If you're struggling with depression, this link will take you to a variety of helplines.

Finally, I'd like to thank Nicole for giving me this opportunity to share, for wanting to hear my story, and for being such an amazing listener.

ABK

Running & NEDA Week

On my work trip to Miami this week, a colleague told me (after watching me polish off a gluten free pizza and pizookie) that she was relieved to see me eat so much because I usually "eat like a bird" at lunch time. (To clarify, if I eat too heavily at lunch, I have trouble functioning during my afternoon classes.)

Anyway, this reminded me that this week is National Eating Disorder Awareness Week. 

This issue strikes close to home for many reasons. As a teacher of adolescents, I am particularly attuned to the kind of pervasive body-shame language in our culture, especially among young people. As a woman, I'm all too aware of the negative way we talk about food, diets, fat, and body shapes. As a runner who frequents running forums, blogs, and websites, the discussion of orthorexia and over-exercising comes up at least weekly. 

And that's to say nothing of the many men and women I care about who have struggled with eating disorders themselves.

Kristina wrote a really wonderful post this week that breaks down some of the common misconceptions about eating disorders. I'm not planning to get into all that; her post is pretty perfect and I urge you to read it for more information. (Or go to the NEDA website here.)

What I do want to touch on is that, like many mental illnesses, we tend to try to sweep eating disorders under the rug or gloss over them, as if they're not a serious illness. We as a culture have a bad habit of commenting on and congratulating weight-loss when we should be focusing on positive changes in healthy lifestyle habits. We glorify weight-loss and see it as the ultimate signifier of health.

I don't want to get preachy or offer unsolicited advice or help that I'm not qualified to offer, but I am going to repost my own story...It's a good reminder to myself about how far I've come and how much better my life is now, and maybe it will help to shed some light for others as well.

When I Had A Thigh Gap

 (Originally posted 24 April 2014)

Today, I overheard a group of my female students discussing diets and lamenting over the fact that they don't have a thigh gap. I thought this trend was on the way out, but apparently I'm just not frequenting the seedy parts of the internet these days.

I told them their discussion depressed me; they're too smart to care about something so trivial, especially because their bodies will be changing drastically in the next few years, and because at least one of these girls is a runner. I assured them that thigh gaps have more to do with bone structure anyway.

But this all got me thinking about those days when I was too-too thin and my thighs didn't touch.

When I had a thigh gap, I had...

Really low self-esteem. No number was low enough. I hated myself everyday.

Hair loss due to malnutrition.

Brittle nails because...well, see above.

Mood swings and a short temper. I was constantly hungry, which meant I was constantly angry and upset.

Memory and focus problems. Days went by in a fog most of the time.

Terrible skin. Drastic dieting led to dry, thin skin.

Trouble socializing. I was too focused on how I looked and whether I would have to eat in front of people to even bother making an effort.

A relapse into clinical depression. I think this one doesn't need much explaining.

My thighs touch these days. They are strong, muscular, and powerful. They push me through long runs, up hills, across finish lines...They make me feel confident. They make me feel like a woman. They make me feel proud of my body.

These thighs helped me PR my last half marathon [at the time of the original post], and I'm damn proud of them.

The thigh gap seems to be, to this generation, what the magical number on the scale was to me back then. But of course, when I hit that number, I never felt satisfied. If anything, the less I weighed, the more I hated myself, because I still didn't look how I wanted to look. (Body dysmorphia will do that to you.) Obtaining a thigh gap might seem like it will be the moment of victory to these girls, but I know - as do so many others who have been there - that it's just the lid off the first can of worms.

I will never have a thigh gap again, and I couldn't be happier about it.

Can you relate?

Share: why is life better when you're not obsessing over your body?

What would you say to young girls struggling with their bodies?

ABK