A Long, Winding Road - My struggle to overcome anorexia

By Anna Bearss 

One year and 25 pounds later, I’m ready and want to talk about it.

I HAD TO FIGHT LIKE HELL TO OVERCOME AN EATING DISORDER.

In December 2015, I started a new chapter by putting myself on a long road to recovery.

For seven years, I struggled with anorexia in the form of unhealthy calorie restriction, a warped body image and refusal to believe I had a problem.

The day finally came though, when I could no longer turn my back on the truth: what I was doing to body was incredibly dangerous.

Since that turning point, I’ve been on a crazy and empowering journey to figure myself out, build back a healthy body and outlook, and find peace with circumstances I’ve encountered in recent months.

Does this description sugarcoat the process? Absolutely. In fact, throughout this journey, I’ve had plenty of days where I’ve cried, questioned whether or not I actually had a problem that needed addressing, and dealt with many moments, when, out of frustration, I treated people who care about me in ways I’m not proud of.

In the later phases of the process, I hit patches where I was tempted to fall back into old habits, and questioned if there was really anything wrong with the way I was before.

Recently, I’ve moved past conquering the eating disorder, but had to face yet another change of pace in regards to the role running plays in my life.

However, my story has a happy ending.

The rough days I had at the beginning are a thing of the past, my body has recovered from the hell I put it through, and I find myself waking up each day excited about what my future holds.

I can attest that the rewards associated with attacking this problem are worth the fight.

From early on in the process, I knew that eventually I would want to share my story. Part of my fire to keep going has been this feeling that I owe it to the world.

Specifically, I have an urge to set things straight with the running community and make amends for the example I was setting for others. I know now that bone thin is not better.

I also want to apologize to anyone who tried to help me in the past at times when I wasn’t yet ready to see the truth and change. Furthermore, what started as a story and a journey to regain sound health and mind as it relates to eating turned into something much bigger.

The mental strength and liberation I gained through that recovery process gave me the courage and optimism I have needed to handle the realizations regarding the future of my running career.

What I want from this is to send the message that regardless of the circumstances, everything can turn out OK. However, it does involve being willing to take a risk in order to make it to a better place.  

So, Why the Change?

For the longest time, my habits were steadily destroying me.

I had a false conviction, or an underlying sense of superiority that my habits were better than those around me.

I thought I was doing it right and therefore becoming a better athlete while others were doing it wrong.

I knew I didn’t enough, but I had myself convinced that everyone around me ate way more than they should. I thought I was just going the extra mile to “look” like a better runner, as if that was the key to becoming one. This made it easy for me to convince myself, and therefore others, that nothing was wrong.

Why did I finally choose to see the light? To be perfectly honest, I had to.

In August 2015 my body decided it had enough. I started experiencing constant digestive problems and abdominal pain that haunted me. I was miserable.

I started seeing different doctors and eventually even met with GI specialists. But for the most part, I wasn’t getting any relief or even conclusive answers. Not one of them suggested the word “anorexia” and I didn’t expect them too.

I was searching for a diagnosis, but unwilling to examine the true cause.

Two months later, I had surgery to remove my gallbladder. I’d been diagnosed with gastroparesis. And I learned that I had become lactose intolerant.

Even after making some major adjustments, I was only feeling 50 percent better. The overall quality of my life was still seriously compromised. I was missing something.

How did the Process Start?

I started seeing a sports psychologist at Indiana State, where I go to school. I was a mess.

After being plagued by running injuries for several months leading up to this point, my legs finally felt good.

For so long, I’d thought this was the only missing piece of the puzzle standing between me and the goals and visions that gave me purpose every day. However, the rest of my body was so messed up at this point, I was still not able to get back into training.

Honestly, I was desperately afraid that some type of permanent damage was going on with my digestive tract, and that because of this I would never be healthy enough to run fast again.

Little did I know that while I thought I was seeing a sports psychologist to sort out the mental stress I was dealing with, I had tricked myself into laying the groundwork for an even bigger change.

So I kept up with these meetings with Dr. L. Kenneth Chew where we talked about everything from my home life to training techniques, and somehow through it all, my eyes started to open up to the fact that my eating habits were responsible for my struggles.

A beautiful revelation had taken place in my mind and I was willing to take the leap of faith and make the change.

Phase One: Kickstarting Recovery

I checked myself into what I call a “self-declared state of rehab.” I opted to fight the battle without going to an actual rehab facility, but that’s not to say it wasn’t something that consumed my days, or that it was something I was taking on half-hearted.

From the mental standpoint, I was scared the sickness and GI problems I’d been dealing with as a result of years of malnutrition would be permanent, that I’d never feel OK again.

Pair with this the new fears and insecurities I was acclimating to in regards to the recovery process itself, and it makes sense why I was so mentally drained.

Anxiety about what my body would end up looking like as a result of the change, and fear that if I went through with this process, I wouldn’t be a good runner anymore haunted my thoughts.

Piled on top of that were the physical symptoms associated with starting to feed my body properly that hadn’t had the luxury in roughly seven years. At first, it wasn’t pleasant.

The first couple of months were filled with uncomfortable fullness, bloating and water retention. It would have been easy to just want to hide my body, as well as my mind, from the world as I was going through this, and to some extent I did.

But there was a degree of accountability I wanted to hold myself to, and it was my love for running that pushed me to meet this standard.

While I was in the midst of a fight that was bigger and stronger than me, I needed a rock. As it has been through many of the other rough patches in my life, running was my rock.

While I was going through this change, while my body was recovering, I needed a sense of normalcy and a reason to push myself to continue on.

After 14 months off the grid, I wanted to race again. Since it was January, that corresponded with indoor track season.

My coach, Kyle Walsh, was incredibly supportive of what I was doing during this phase. On a daily basis, he reminded me that I was doing the right things.

He offered me a glimmer of hope by allowing me to spike up and compete in an Indiana State uniform while in the midst of it all. One month in, that is exactly what I did.

Although it was an indescribable blessing to be back on the track, my comeback lasted only three races.

I began to feel nerve pain in my feet and lower legs, and pressure in my calves. Although I don’t regret for competing in those events, I found out I had compartment syndrome. As a result, we pulled the plug on racing for the time being.

The injury, coupled with the bigger fight behind the scenes quickly progressed. While at the time this was devastating, I see now that this was a blessing in disguise.

I had gotten a fix of racing to keep my eyes on the prize, but was then able to pour that much more energy into pushing through my battle against the eating disorder in the stretch of time between February and May.

The prospect of having surgery, on top of my effort to overcome anorexia, was a big load to carry. Fortunately I had the collective support of Dr. Chew, coach Walsh and my athletic trainer Cody Inskeep, who all had my best interests in mind.

Therefore, at that time, no dates were set and there were no deadlines.

I was to focus first and foremost on weight restoration and retraining my mind to accept the changes that were happening. However long that took, it didn’t matter.

I was to put my head down and grind. I stopped running workouts and eventually took a step back from going to practice altogether.

I dropped down to 40 miles per week, most weeks every mile I ran by myself. My legs hurt, but I didn’t care. I needed that run every day; that structure, and that window of time each day to be alone with the thing I loved to do the most, the thing that was helping me cope with the changes I was experiencing and the battle I was fighting.

I stayed off the scale except for the occasional check-in. At first, the rising numbers were intimidating and gave me a sense of panic.

But as I began to notice other healthy rewards that are a byproduct of proper nutrition, I began to embrace and celebrate the gains, seeing them as milestones and proof I was moving in the right direction.

My energy levels had improved drastically. I remember thinking that all of the sudden I was out there feeling like the Energizer Bunny on my runs.

Also, I wasn’t cold all the time. I no longer needed to constantly wear multiple sweatshirts, sweatpants over running tights and fuzzy socks just to stay warm inside a heated building.

Most liberating though, was when I became aware that my metabolism and digestive tract were coming back to life. The damage I had done wasn’t permanent. By eating properly a more sensible relationship with food, I was righting my wrongs. 

Tomorrow: Part II - After reaching a low point, Anna Bearss begins to make sense of future and how to turn her experiences into something positive.

Anna Bearss submitted her story to DyeStat. She is a junior at Indiana State University, studing Political Science and Sociology. National Eating Disorders Awareness Week is Feb. 26 to March 4.