It's been along time coming since I knew I would one day share this story. I've kept it bottled up for a while now, but it is about time I break that bottle.
We all have struggles and ways of coping with them. That’s something I have learned in
the 20-something years I’ve been around. I’ve also learned what it’s like to keep it inside. We
mask ourselves through social media, and like to pretend that everything is ok. Everyone else
seems to be doing just fine (according to Instagram)…so we only want to post that perfect pic of
us and our friends on top of a mountain right? I think everyone knows this feeling, that they are the only person in the world going through the struggle. Whether it be mental, physical, or emotional, hard times in life happen to everyone and it doesn’t help to bottle up the emotions that accompany them.
So here is my story and I know I’m not alone in it.
Brene Brown said, “Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity and change.” I
whole-heartedly agreed with this and realized it is about time I let down my guard, shared my story and hopefully inspire others to do the same.
First let’s go back to 10-year- old Abbi…. happy, enthusiastic and energetic. Gymnastics,
American girl dolls, and webkinz pretty much summed up the purpose of my existence at that
time. Starting with gymnastics and ballet, I was a competitor from the beginning, even with
myself. It’s something that I was born with, a trait that, later, became one of my biggest
weaknesses. I loved competing and I loved practicing. At 11 years old I started swimming. I
wanted to stay up with the fastest kids in the pool and immediately started pushing myself. I
got faster. I loved it. Now, at this time, I was one of the tallest for my age. I was one of those kids that grew early. I wasn’t a picky eater either, and at this time in my life I had one of those little kid bellies that disappears as soon as they start to sprout. And it did. Over the course of that year I swam and grew taller. I slimmed out into a petite middle schooler, yet was still built and muscular.
Heading into middle school I was excited about life, excited about what the future would
hold. I had one of the best friends ever, by my side every step of the way. From dressing up our
dogs and entering them into photo contests, to staying up way past our bedtime at sleepovers, we
had way too much fun. Soon though, my tween world was changed forever. Her dad got a
promotion and they were going to be moving away. I remember this devastated me. She was my
sidekick, my partner in crime, my competitor, and my sister at heart. We did so many weird things together that I can’t even begin to explain... Anyways, we were separated. Although a friend moving away doesn’t seem like the end of the world, for a hormonal girl entering middle school it was a pretty big deal.
That year was rough with the girls at school. I didn’t fit into the cliques, but I didn’t fit in with the rest of the girls either. Since I attended a private school, I didn’t have many
girls to pick from and so I usually spent recess running around with my guy friends or playing
foursquare with the older kids. Sports were something I excelled at, and made me feel more
accomplished. I remember PE was by far my favorite class. In PE class we had a nutritionist
come and give several classes on nutrition. I remember this is where I was first introduced to
learning about calories, fat, carbohydrates and so forth. As an assignment, we were told to track
our calories and write down every bite we ate throughout the day.
With our new assignment of food tracking, I remember it just kind of took over my head
and to this day I’m not sure why. I wanted to beat the numbers…remember that competitive gene
I talked about? I wanted to make sure I knew exactly how many calories were in every bit of
food I ate. I soon only felt comfortable eating foods that had labels so I knew what exactly was
going into my body. I felt so in control that I lost control. I didn’t at all wish to lose weight.
Nor did I think I was fat. I by no means purposefully fell into a trap of nearly starving myself to
death.
I was so strung up on feeling like I needed count calories perfectly that it consumed my
life. Each day, all of a sudden, I wanted to beat the day before and eat less than I had previously.I
remember skipping breakfast, eating 4 strawberries and a quarter of a bagel for lunch and then
probably a pretty skimpy dinner. Not surprisingly I lost weight. My mom took me and all my
sisters into the doctor for regular checkups. She recommended I put on a few pounds after noting that I was underweight at this point.
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Two weeks later we went back to the Doctor and I had dropped more weight. The next
year of my life kind of spiraled into a train wreck. Looking back now it’s hard to explain exactly
what happened. It’s not at all like I chose to be there. Mentally, I wanted an escape so bad. I think some of it had to do with control. I looked up to my older siblings and desperately wanted their approval. Things weren’t great in my relationship with my older sister, things were falling apart at school, and food was something I could control. It’s a lot easier for me to see this now then it was back then….I never had the thought, “wow my life is out of control I want to starve
myself.” It was a lot more complicated than that, and I think was much more in my subconscious than anything. This was the hardest part. I didn’t know why I was in a rut. After I lost a bit of weight I had the inability to think clearly and even felt depressed (duhhh I was living without icecream.) My life was spiraling downhill, and the one thing that brought me an escape from reality was stripped away. Sports. From the Docs orders, I was banned from all exercise. According to them, I was using sports to lose weight. According to them I had body image issues. According to them, I might never recover and I should probably be sent away to a camp for 6+ months.
Doctors and psychologists put me into a stereotypical box to join every other girl that had a battled an eating disorder. They tried to prescribe the exact cure, and tried to tell me exactly why I was struggling with one. I think this made things worse. I loved sports for the thrill, because they made me feel alive and because I loved competing and pushing myself.
No matter how hard I tried to explain some of these thoughts to my doctors, I seemed to
be losing, and in my head I felt like they were my enemies. I know they were just trying to help,
and wanted nothing more than to save me, but at this point I hated nothing more than being
shoved into a stereotypical box that science could explain. This is why eating disorders are so
tricky. Everyone’s story is so different, and although there are similar trends, you cannot label
people and come up with a specific cure. Those who have never struggled can’t understand it. To
them it is a simple fix “eat more.” Yea, I wish it was that simple too. The stigma declares its
society's fault because of unrealistic manikins and Victoria’s secret adds. Yes, there may be
some truth to that in certain cases, but not all. Mine wasn’t. Although I wanted a nice body (who
doesn’t?) that’s not what lead me to starving myself. And it definitely wasn’t a choice. That’s
another thing that I think is hard for people to understand, but here’s how I see it. Is cancer a
choice? Is bipolar a choice? Anxiety? There’s a lot of outside factors that play a role, but it truly
is a mental illness that has to be fought, and it’s a hard battle.
I remember the battle in my head, a raging war. In my 13-year- old brain something had
taken over. Now an irritable little monster, to be frank, I was no longer the happy go lucky girl
others knew. I guess it makes sense now though….I was constantly hangry with no end for about
a year. I treated people around me terribly and became sullen. I got really good at acting like I
was slowly getting better, but I wasn’t. That whole control thing I talked about earlier? Yea, that
became my worst enemy. It was like someone was in my head, not letting me enjoy the things
that I used to. Telling me to not lose control, not lose count of calories, not give in to what others
were telling me to do. Honestly as hard of a time this was, it isn’t easy to write about. I don’t like remembering the dark hurting emotions that came with this disease. The regret that has followed me since is still something I struggle with too. The regret of the way I treated my family and friends, and how awfully stupid I felt for not being able to stop myself. It was as if my greatest strengths had brought me down. The competitive edge that had formerly helped me succeed was dragging me down and spiraling me to rock bottom. At this dark place I stood at about 5’3” and weighed 78 lbs. At this point tears were a regular thing. Honestly I feel bad for the world to have seen me for the way I was at that point.
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I remember my dad looking so broken and my mom crying multiple times. The multiple
counselors that I talked to had not yet helped and I felt at a loss. At about my lowest point I
remember crawling into bed one night and I saw a note by my bedside table. I picked it up to see
it was a note written by Megan, probably about 9 at the time. It read “Abbi I love you, please
please eat more.” Immediately I burst into tears. I was tired of it. All I wanted was to enjoy ice-
cream again. To eat good food and enjoy it. I decided I needed to win this battle, to not let it
consume and destroy me. Whatever it was, the disease wasn’t going to beat me. I had to fight.
From that moment on there were ups and downs. It was a roller coaster of emotions to
recovery and a slow process, but I wanted it. Here is where I really prayed, on all fours I got
down and pleaded for help. I knew that was the only thing that could help me, and trust me I
needed all the help I could get.
One of our friends directed us to a counselor in Wenatchee who ended up being my
saving grace. For once someone actually listened to my side. She told me she believed in me and
just let me talk. She told me I would beat it. She wanted to be on my side and help me through
the battle. She understood my competitive drive and helped me use it for the better. I remember
sitting in her office one day and she looked up and said almost in a joking way, “you have the
mental strength of a pro athlete and that’s part of the problem.” But then continued and said, “ I
know you can beat this.”
Slowly but surely, little by little things got better. I gained weight, I pushed hard. I wrote
up a meal plan focused all my energy on that. I wanted to get better and I wasn’t going to let
anything stop me. I poured my focus into that like it was my training. Three pb and jelly
sandwiches, three cliff bars, a Costco muffin. Yup, pretty gross but that on top of my other meals
was my diet for several weeks. Life was coming back. I spent more time in prayer, more time
being honest with myself and family and pretty soon it was over. Meal time became easier, my
foggy brain was clearing and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I could almost get
back in the pool.
Several weeks later I had my last session with my counselor. I was even able to start
swimming a couple times a week again. It was amazing. I started working with an inspirational
triathlon coach, who helped educate me on proper fueling for athletes.
High school had started and I switched to the public school. I started swimming and came
back faster and stronger than before. I dropped an unreal amount of time from each of my events.
I was able to enjoy the foods that I never would have been able to before and felt a freedom that
had been missing from the year I like to refer to as “my dark time.” (no ice-cream, or
cereal…can it get darker?) Of course I’m not perfect, and dealing with stress by control is
something I need to be careful of. I have learned to trust God, His plan is perfect and I rest in
that.
Fast forward to 2016, I just finished my second world championship in Cozumel, Mexico
for triathlons as a part of Team USA. I have learned that your training goes nowhere without the
proper fuel. I would definitely consider myself a foodie. I love all food. I have fallen in love
With healthy foods, and nutritious living. I am primarily “plant powered” and obsessed with breakfast.
I also am addicted to nut butters and avocados. I’m a strong believer of the phrase “everything in
moderation.” (eat those veggies but ya gotta treat yourself…ya feel?)
What I went through, I have never really shared. I’ve pushed it away my whole life.
Ashamed of my past, I never wanted to let anyone know. I didn’t want to be labeled as one of
those girls unsatisfied with her body or as having “mental issues.” I think the hardest part that I
still struggle with is the sense of “regret” or “shame.” Time that I spent lying to myself, my
family, and time that I wasn’t Abbi. I spent all of high school trying to hide pictures of myself
from those years. Trying to hide what I went through so people wouldn’t think of me differently.
I was so wrapped up in others opinions of me, that I lived in shame. I didn’t want to admit what I
had struggled with. My best friends don’t know this story, but it’s about time I forgive myself. In
that forgiveness I have the freedom to share this story, to acknowledge what happened and
realize it is in my past. It happened, but it doesn’t define me.
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I now know everything happens for a reason. My middle school years were a lot harder
than some people, but I came out stronger. I know my story is now going to be used for good. I
hope whoever might read this knows that whatever battle you are struggling with, whatever
difficulty you are facing, God is working through it and you will come out stronger, equipped,
and more able to relate to those in your life. The battles you fight are a part of your past, but they
don’t define you. I’m still working, still growing in my own passions, and learning how to love
myself and others.
