Hi, my name is Amanda, I am a registered dietitian, chef, foodie at heart, professor at George Brown College, and an anorexia survivor. If you asked me 12 years ago how I was doing, I would probably answer timidly, with my head gazing down and eyes barely making contact with yours, and tell you that all was well, and that I was just super busy balancing school, research, work, and volunteer activities. 

To the outside world, I was a go-getter, studious as can be, determined, and even confident. But, behind closed doors, I was lonely, hated my body, and ashamed of myself and my strict regimens that bled through every thought, action, and interaction.

It started as a mere desire to shed a few pounds which led to skipping a few meals and adding in a few jogs here and there. Those few pounds led to compliments and attention from others, and more importantly, a feeling of acceptance. Restrictive eating and compulsive exercising became my coping mechanisms and the control was addictive. Anorexia became the “friend” that was always there.

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, months turned to years. For six years I lived life but I didn’t have a life. It was easy in some sense, “practicing what I was being preached” at school, training to be a Dietitian. No one questioned, no one assumed. It was basically the perfect set-up, or at least that is what I kept telling myself.

In the progression of the eating disorder, I ended up giving up the very thing that first appealed to me, control.

What I thought I had, was control over my body, but the reality was, the eating disorder had control of me. It consumed all of me. I was sick of counting every calorie consumed, every calorie expended and most of all, I was tired of relying on my own strength. I wanted to be set free of my paralyzing insecurities.

Then it happened. The wake-up call. I was getting ready to leave the house, going down the same set of stairs I always do, but this time instead of my feet landing at the bottom of the stairs, I face-planted; bone in sight. A scar I still carry with me to this day. A reminder that my body is not invincible. Resilient yes, but not invincible. 

Recovery is complicated and long term. It goes far beyond restoring the relationship one has with food and their weight. When you are affected by an eating disorder, you align and obey with the rules demanded of you by your eating-disordered mind. Every step in the journey of recovery, essentially requires you to go against these rituals, which makes your close friend very angry and very loud, making it nearly impossible to think rationally. For example, the moment I received the call of my acceptance into the in-patient treatment program, I declined it. I couldn’t bear the embarrassment or disappointment from my friends, family, peers and professors. 

And so my “treatment” started at home and in group therapy sessions. The weight restoration regulated within two years, but my mind remained just as imprisoned, despite the healthy changes to my body. Recovery required me to take a deep look into my soul, and face each fear and insecurity; confronting them head-on. Tearing down walls of lies and rebuilding it with truth and hope.

There is so much freedom when we decide to shake off the lies, that we are not worthy of love, that we are ugly, that our voice doesn’t matter, that we have gone too far, and instead choosing to show up just as we are.

The decade to recovery was no linear path. The journey resembled more like my messy bun after an intense workout - many knots and detours. Each year brought on more self-discovery, and I gained an understanding of the true power of food and its ability to strengthen and fuel our amazing bodies. I started guarding my heart with positive thoughts and truths because everything you do flows from it – your desires, your feelings, your words, your actions, your work, and your relationships. When your heart is filled with good things, your energy and confidence is contagious and radiant.

It would be a lie to say that every day is just sunshine and rainbows. But I now know and trust that we are never given a battle more we can handle. We are guaranteed a story that is far better than we could have ever imagined. When hard times hit and my old coping mechanisms resurfaces, I am now able to recognize my patterns and tendencies and change direction. I share my story because living a life in fear is not fair to yourself and not fair to the rest of the world. You deserve to live a life filled with joy and peace. Know that you are enough and that your appearance and accolades do not define your self-worth. Why?

Because you are enough just as you are.