Breaking Up with ED
May 9, 2024
Credit: Pinterest
Editors: Dani Eder, Ava Malkin, & Kate Shapiro
This summer, my doctor told me it was time to break up with Ed. Ed isn't my boyfriend or any positive influence in my life. It is the name of the voice in my head that sabotaged me.
My mother could be considered an ‘almond mom’: a term social media coined to describe people who obsess over diet culture and constantly promote healthy habits. Though it began on TikTok as merely a joke, this term refers to something I, along with millions of people, have experienced firsthand.
My mom’s intentions stemmed from a place of love and care: she wanted to teach my sister and me the importance of healthy eating and provide us with healthy options. Over time, I slowly began to resent the diet-infused healthy home I had as a child. Our home favored healthy options and 100-calorie snack packs, while my friends’ homes' consisted of cheesy pizza and double-stuffed Oreos. My mother never explicitly restricted me, but the lack of typical junk food in our house made me feel deprived. I envied my friends' snack drawers, which were stocked to the brim with cookies and candy in every flavor imaginable. So, whenever I was outside my home, I’d binge on forbidden foods I felt I was missing. This is when I first met Ed.
When I was younger, I managed to offset the damage of my binging episodes with three hours of swim practice six days a week. As I got older, I began to fluctuate in weight, which caused me to enter a cycle of yo-yo dieting, binging, and restricting. In high school, social pressures felt like a thousand bricks on my shoulders, and Ed became my most judgmental and manipulative critic. Ed’s influence grew toxic, and he intensified these 'good' and 'bad' foods by repeatedly saying, "You are not hungry. You are just bored." Going into college, Ed deemed it even more important to look my best, and he made me eliminate more essential food groups like dairy, fats, and fruits. Ed threatened me with the ‘freshman 15’ daily.
College gave me a lot of freedom, and truthfully, it took a toll on me. Although he drove me insane, Ed was my best-kept secret that I couldn't let go of. No one knew I was struggling with my eating habits. My meal plan gave unlimited dining hall access. With nobody monitoring me, Ed pushed me to avoid meals, arguing it was 'more productive' or 'better' to study and watch TV. Ed convinced me this was the easiest and fastest way to lose weight, and as I lost weight, I began to receive compliments. The compliments fueled Ed's ego, encouraging him to manipulate me more. I spiraled out of anxiety; I didn't look like myself, so I didn't feel like myself, and therefore I didn’t act like myself. Ed's voice was relentless, constantly numbing my self-worth and confidence.
When summer rolled around and I went home from school, everyone had something to say about my changed appearance. Inside, I was a mess. Part of me loved the attention, but a significant part felt trapped in this vicious cycle and feared everything from meals with friends and family to my health. I knew I was inflicting damage by skipping meals and rapidly losing weight, but somehow Ed convinced me this was 'normal.' The consequences were not only physical but mental. I knew my malnutrition fed my anxiety and sank me into a deeper hole I so badly wanted to escape.
When I revealed my secret to my mom, she brought me to a doctor. My sessions with her were primarily silent as I struggled to express my feelings. At the end of our session, however, I admitted it all: feeling out of control trying to fit an impossible standard. She listened with understanding nods, familiar with this narrative. The doctor then gave me the book "Life Without Ed," she said, "I think it is time for a divorce." I looked at her, confused, as I was an 18-year-old and had never been married. But she explained, "A divorce from Ed. You have given him excessive power and space in your life, and you must help yourself by rewriting a new narrative in your mind." It wasn't until I read Schafer's book that I realized I was trying to fit an impossible standard that Ed set, not myself. This is when I began to see my ties to Ed as a relationship: one that I had the power to end.
Breaking free from Ed took time and support, but I eventually slowly introduced back all of my favorite foods. Gradually, I began to rewrite the narrative in my head. Food is fuel; it was not the enemy, nor was my body. The real enemy was Ed, who tried to downgrade my worth to scale numbers and meal choices. I'm now in a much better place. My relationship with food is significantly healthier since I focus on nourishment and pleasure rather than guilt, binging, or restriction. The scale no longer dictates my days, and carbs are on my plate at every meal. This journey showed me how our minds can create negative patterns and pull us down and how unchecked emotions can pull the rug out from underneath us. Rewriting my narrative on food and refocusing my priorities rebuilt my self-worth. After gaining strength, I learned to silence Ed and define my worth on my terms.
