I sat down with him for my simple breakfast of cereal and juice. I could feel his hands grasping my back, his fingernails digging into my shoulder blades. 

   My breathing rate shortened and my heart rate increased. I could feel him slowly taking the life out of my being by listing all of the nutrition facts of my bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. “12 grams of added sugar, 2 grams of fat, 210mg of sodium”. 

   My legs and arms felt weak, my eyes were heavy, my skin was pale, and he just kept telling me that this breakfast would be the end. I could feel tears swelling in my eyes, blurring my vision, and slowly rolling down my sunken cheeks. This is not what l could call living. I will never be able to get back what Ed took and the lies he told me; however, Ed isn’t a person, Ed is the name I have given my eating disorder. 

   The questions that Ed would ask me were constant, I could never catch a break. “Is this too much?” The thoughts that Ed would express to me, I could never come up for air. “That makes you look big.” After being in this never-ending cycle for over three years, those around me decided that Ed’s strength was too overpowering and I would need help to stand up to the obnoxious voice in the back of my head. On March 13, 2023, I was admitted into a residential treatment facility for eating disorders in St. Louis, Missouri. 

   When I was at my lowest before being admitted into treatment, I was constantly exhausted. 

   “I’d say you were very low energy, never really got super hyped up…your personality was very clear that you were trying to be happy, but you could just see from the outside in that you weren’t, you were uncomfortable,” Soph. Ava Porras said. 

   During this time, Ed had taken everything from me. He took my smile, my love for running, and my ability to live freely through life; I could never escape his deafening shouts. The control that he had over every step I took was unbearable. The only thing that mattered to him was the number on a scale and each crumb I consumed. Treatment was necessary for my health and well-being, though it terrified me. I had so many questions and Ed had a plethora of fears of what treatment would do. He feared the weight gain, losing the life that I had in Holland and the control that he would be giving up. Moving to St. Louis was the hardest thing I had ever done, but it was also the best decision to help get back everything Ed had taken and regain authority over my life. 

   After being in Missouri for three months, I was discharged on May 26. Truly eliminating Ed is an impossible task; however, I have decided to have the louder voice and choose my life. 

   I had energy again, my smile was back, and my heart was strong. After weeks of tedious work with my physical therapist and dietician following my discharge, I was able to incorporate greater amounts of physical exercise into my routine. Exercise was my medicine that provided the endorphins that I craved each day. In the depths of my eating disorder, Ed’s control over me was strong and drove me to the ground. Due to a combination of undereating and overtraining before treatment, my body broke and I developed a navicular stress fracture. Although at this point I was still battling the fracture, I began doing a small amount of run training with my cross-country team. 

   “… I don’t feel like I’ve been able to coach you since returning.  I feel like I’ve been around to support you personally and I’ve attempted to implement the things/training your medical team has prescribed for you as well as advise you when needed.  I don’t think your medical team feels like you’re at the point where you are able to be fully ‘coached’ by me and do everything in our program like the rest of the athletes,” Head cross-country and track coach Kyle Barnes said.

    My training was drastically different than my team’s and from what I had been completing the previous year. Last year I was racing five kilometers and running at nationals, now I was running ten minutes and walking the next four. This wasn’t only a challenge for me, but it was also a challenge for the coaches trying to help me reach my full potential. 

   I felt like a horse going to the races, but I was stuck in the stalls. Throughout treatment, the idea that I would become a faster runner was what got me through each day. When I got to racing again I wouldn’t be back racing, I would be better. This driving thought was losing its momentum; I was running ten minutes at a slow pace three times a week. I was back to running, but this wasn’t better.

   Roughly five months after being discharged from treatment I began the slow progression back to running and biking. I was allowed to race at the Michigan MHSAA Cross Country State Championships. I didn’t have as much training under my belt as my other teammates, but this was my time to show people that I was coming back better. Not having the race I had hoped for, I placed 11th in the state and first overall for my team. Although not my fastest time, my body had reached its limits. I remembered my legs burning and my chest heaving. I had gone to the “well”,  but it wasn’t as deep as it had been in years past; however, I knew this was just a starting point.

   I remembered the feeling of crossing the finish line at the state meet in 2022, but not in 11th place, in first place. In 2022, I ran over a minute faster, but this year I felt strong in my body. I wasn’t a shell of myself racing five kilometers; this year I was my true self. This year my body was alive.  With each step I took on race day I could feel my body working like a well-oiled machine; my car finally had gas. Conversely, the previous year, my fuel was dwindling at the bottom of the tank. I knew this body was going to take me to amazing places that I had never been before and that my performance on that day was one step closer to gaining more control over my life.

   Following the state meet I would get comments saying how glad everyone was to “see me back,” but I knew that I wasn’t back, I was better. 

   The exercise component was one small grain of sand making up the controlling monster of Ed. At the state meet I had proven to myself that this was the more sustainable body that was going to help me reach my goals. However, each day, eating was still a struggle. Even after being in treatment for 25% of the year, Ed’s hostile voice was still in my head, just quieter. I had regained some control, but he was still able to silently direct my actions. Working closely with my dietician, we had challenged foods, adjusted my meal plan, and ensured that I was on track. Nevertheless, I would ask myself daily if I could ever be truly recovered. I have been back from treatment for over eight months now and can’t decide if I’m recovered or still recovering. 

   “I think the answer is something that each person with any type of addiction be it ED, alcohol, drugs, etc needs to answer for themselves. Every person’s journey into their ED is different, every person’s experience of their ED is different, so every person’s experience of what recovery looks like will be different,” Registered Sports Dietician, Heidi Strickler said. 

   During my time in treatment, I made some of my best friends. We were all in treatment for our eating disorders while simultaneously being there for different reasons. The puzzle of each of our eating disorders was intricate and unique. A corner piece that fits into my puzzle would never succeed in fitting into the other puzzles around me. This is the aspect of eating disorders that is the most frightening; everyone’s treatment has to be unique to them and in return, everyone’s recovery is going to look different.

   “For me, recovery is the understanding and acceptance that these things will come up from time to time and that despite things coming up, I can be aware of them, let them pass through, and not change how I choose to eat or exercise the rest of the day…,” Strickler said. 

   Recovery is a journey, not a destination, and there are countless viewpoints on true recovery. Professional endurance athlete, Amelia Boone, reflects that she will always be recovering and never truly recovered; however, Kara Bazzi, founder of Opal Eating Disorder Treatment Center in Seattle, believes that one can reach the destination of recovery. As for my story, the book is long and the pages are full. My journey has been nothing short of simple; I have seen the sights from the tallest mountain and looked up from the deepest valleys. Right now I am still in the process of recovering and speaking up against Ed’s deafening shouts. In my recovery, I hope to achieve Strickler’s destination. I want to be aware of Ed’s voices but have the empowering ability to tame them.

   Challenges are presented continuously, and with each dawn of a new day, I will be one moment closer to gaining more control over my life. I am coming back to my sport of running so that I can show those around me that I am better. 

   The beach is vast and the grains of sand are plentiful, but I believe that every piece of sand is crucial in what makes up the complicated identity of Ed. My story has been hard and each day words are still being written, but I am working diligently to regain the control Ed stole from me. 

   My focus is the hopeful destination of recovery to show people I’m not back, but better.