TW: Eating Disorders
[Image description: An image from the NEDA website, featuring three
women in swimsuits, the NEDA logo, and the 2020 NEDA week theme, “Come as You
Are”]
Article by Keira DiGaetano
I thought that I had been looking forward to National Eating Disorder
Awareness week ever since I started recovery -- until it finally happened.
Suddenly, I was thrown into a vortex of mixed signals and pro-recovery posts
that I realized I wasn’t quite ready to see. Dissecting my eating disorder and
all of its intricacies and implications in my life has never been easy for me,
but I find the most clarity in my reactions to NEDA week, both positive and
negative.
In the months leading up to NEDA week, I anticipated the moment that I
could post about my own experiences and share with the world such a large part
of my life that had been hidden for so long. I’m writing this the day before
NEDA week is over, and I have yet to post. What’s stopping me? Just like
everything to do with my eating disorder, there are too many elements at work
for me to completely comprehend. On one hand, I came to the realization that
the desire to post on Instagram could be fueled by my eating disorder
attempting to justify my recovery weight gain -- not healthy. On the other
hand, am I preventing myself from posting so that I can slip back into my old
habits without anyone noticing? Ironically enough, I’ve felt myself slipping up
in my recovery in the past couple weeks, the most negative headspace I’ve been
in since choosing to recover. Of course that had to happen now, coinciding with
NEDA week and making it impossible for me to share my feelings genuinely and
authentically. On the other hand, I don’t want to be forced to wait another
year to share my experiences -- I do think that opening up would feel deeply
freeing. Whether or not to post has turned out to be such an unexpectedly
difficult decision to make, and it’s challenging my recovery, for better or for
worse.
My eating disorder, like those of so many others, has hinged on my
connection to social media. Before I started recovery, I wrapped myself in body
positivity and pro-recovery accounts as a source of comfort. I was simultaneously
deeply submerged in eating disorder meme accounts and blatant diet culture
promotion posts, to the point where my Instagram explore page is still vastly
overpopulated with weight loss posts and other damaging images. Has Instagram
helped me or fueled my mental illness? I don’t know, and that’s incredibly
frustrating. How do I heal in an environment where I can’t trust myself to
judge how something will affect me until after it’s already washed over
me?
While NEDA week seems mostly social media-focused, its presence in my
offscreen life has been much more indisputably positive. My college has held a
few events, my friends and I have had a couple of conversations -- it’s been
pleasant overall. While all signs would indicate that social media is the variable
that turns NEDA week from a helpful to a hurtful experience, I can’t seem to
tear myself away. I know that that’s a shared experience, but I find myself
finally realizing the full extent of the impact that the intersection of social
media and NEDA week has had on me right now, as I type these words.
Apart from my own personal experiences, NEDA week faces many problems
with regards to how it frames recovery and the body positivity movement, but
it’s extremely valuable to me as a platform. Mental illnesses are so
inextricable with secrecy, embarrassment, and inner shame that it often seems
as if awareness weeks are the one time we aren’t obligated to feel guilty for
sharing our feelings. I haven’t come to some grand realization of the best
environment for my personal healing, but I know that, at least for one week a
year, the world is genuinely wondering how we feel. Despite NEDA week’s
complications, I remain extremely grateful for its existence.
Note: I took a break in writing this article to breathe, gather my
thoughts, and listen to some music. I stumbled upon “Le Festin,” otherwise
known as that French song from Ratatouille, and was struck by the relevant
emotion of the lyrics, so I just wanted to leave a couple lines down here. Take
them as a mantra, reassurance, whatever you need:
“A life to hide and then finally free, the feast is
on my path”
-Le Festin, Camille