All Too Unwell

Stomach Problems

CW: anxiety, flashbacks, ed

When I was twelve, the meaning of dance transformed from a fun hobby to endless competition and body dysmorphia. What used to be an escape from the endless physical and academic comparison became another factor of comparison. I feel so inadequate and lazy that it feels like my guts are in knots of guilt and shame. My team is one of the best dance teams in my state, and have got to dance on Dance With the Stars because of this. As I was walking in the corridors after my performance, my coach told me that I needed to lose weight for the better of our team's public appearance. She yelled at me about how I was dragging our team down.

"Mirrabelle! What have you been eating lately! It really shows and you need more dicipline!" She angrily exclaimed, pinching my stomach. She then dragged me to the scale and made me watch the number as she recorded it. "Try harder, or you're off," She threatened, grinding her teeth. She continued yelling at other girls. She always searched our bags to make sure we didn't bring snacks, because we weren't allowed to. At each practice, she would weigh us in front of each other, announcing each number loudly, followed by harsh criticism. 

Ever since, I tried to eat healthier and started logging my intake and cutting out food groups. I started tracking my intake and how many calories I burned. Every weight-loss focussed blog told me that it was safe, so I truly thought it was. As a people pleaser, I wanted to do a good job for my coach and my team. I didn't want anyone to be angry with me. My health worsened and I started getting sick every three weeks or so. I couldn't stand up without being on the verge of fainting. My stomach ached and rumbled, squeezing together, only to be met with emptiness. I felt cold, even when I was inside with the heater turned on and a sweatshirt draped over my decaying body. My heart rate dropped 20 beats per minute from what it was before. 

One day at practice, I felt my skin flash hot and my blood run cold. My vision clouded with black and white dots and everything blurred out of reality. My stomach hurt and I thought I was going to be sick. I saw the floor coming closer to me as I hit it with a thud. 

I never heard the end of it from my parents, who yelled at me for endangering myself and ruining an oppurtunity. They got me to recover, but only for a short while until things go wrong. I use my eating disorder as a coping skill when things go wrong. I don't really talk to my parents about my problems because they just yell at me. 

I still enjoyed dance, and once the doctor cleared me for physical activity, I started dancing again. This time I was making up my own choreography to Taylor Swift's songs. I love her so much, I want to tell her how much she has gotten me through- especially her taking about her eating disorder in Miss Americana. Her quotes: "It's all just fucking impossible," "It's better to think you look fat than to look sick" "Sometimes I find myself going back there, and I'm like nope. We don't do that anymore. We're changing the channel in our brain," have helped me a lot in my recovery. I admire her mindset in which she is gentle with herself but still holds herself accountable and self-reflects. 

I started posting my dancing videos on TikTok instead, usually making up choreography to Taylor Swift songs. Taylor liked my video where I was dancing to ready for it with body rolls and dramatic head flips. 

She seemed to have Taylurked me, because she scrolled down to a video of me crying, and commented. 

I remember crying about school that day, wondering if I was smart enough for the real world. I decided to share that feeling online to see if other people felt the same way, but I never expected Taylor Swift to see it. 

taylorswift: Hey, hang in there buddy. You're trying your best and that's all you need to do. I love you so much and am sending you the biggest hug 🫂

I am now in my senior year of high school, taking AP Biology, Human anatomy, English, and Government. I decided to take a lighter course load because I've already satisfied my diploma requirements, and I need time for rehersals.

I recently relapsed because I never targeted the underlying causes of my eating disorder: trauma, feeling inadequate, OCD, and needing to feel seen and heard and loved. I also don;t want to let anyone down with this once-in-a-lifetime oppurtunity. What if Taylor thought I was lazy and ate too much? What if the other dancers think that too? Each time I relapse, the symptoms get worse. I get colder. More clumps of hair fall out hopelessly into my hands and down the shower drain. Exercise doesn't count as exercise if you have pauses in between: you must run or dance the entire time. You have to weigh yourself first thing every morning. No, you did it wrong step on the scale again. No you put your feet on in the wrong order do it again. You stepped too slowly do it again. The whole proccess of weighing myself can take a long time because of the battle in my head, tugging at my brain to do it again if one thing wasn't perfect.  My stomach has forgotten how to digest food normally, which I will have to hide from my new dance team.