• I became extremely depressed to the point where I dreaded every day and felt guilty about everything {not just food, but how I was a "failure" as a student, sister, girlfriend, daughter}. 
• I had no energy.
• My heart rate dropped under normal BPM.
• My hair started falling out.
• When I started recovering again, my body acted as if it had been injured, which it had.  For a month of two, my stomach and limbs swelled up with edema as my body brought in fluids and white blood cells to heal my damaged organs and muscles. I had little fat to begin with, so pretty soon after I started losing weight my body turning on itself as an energy source.
• Trying to eat semi-normal quantities of foods again caused heartburn and discomfort because my damaged digestive track wasn't quite sure how to process normally anymore. 

 I am not sucking in, holding my breath, flexing, or standing in any way to stretch myself taller or thinner. The frustrating thing is that I LOVE my stomach at this weight...but I hit 100 lbs when I was a tiny little cheerleader my freshman year of high school! I know that I was still a child when I hit that weight, and yet 100 lbs is the weight I was OBSESSED with from then on. I never, ever wanted to gain more weight than that, and it was when I started gaining weight my freshman year of college and on my mission that all I could think about was losing the weight again.  I hated my body when I got up to my max of 114 lbs, thinking that I was chubby and had no self control, never stopping to think that maybe an adult body was supposed to be different than a child body.

     It's not like Dallin and I always had this perfect relationship.  We rarely ever got in disagreements,  but it was also a little nerve-racking to think about the future when we knew we were high school sweethearts and therefore hadn't dated around / "gotten as much experience" as much as people said we should.  And like all couples, there are always going to be little issues here and there.

     In my case, it didn't help that I had depression and anxiety and didn't realize the full effect it was having on me.  Sometimes, like when we were in San Francisco, I took it out on him.  Often though, like on Pi Day when he had arranged a fun and elaborate pie- and circle-themed datenight, I tried so so desperately to just feel happy. Dates like that were fun-- and the sad and painful feelings would go away for a little bit, but I felt nothing more than numbness. It was the very night of our Pi Day date that we pulled over on a dark street overlooking Provo, and Dallin finally said, "I feel like I'm not making you happy."
     That statement broke my heart.  Immediately I jumped up to defend him.  "Dallin, I promise, it's not you!" I said, and finally, slowly, attempted to explain for only the second time to anyone in 4.5 years, something that was really wrong inside of me.  I opened up a little bit.  Dallin, carefully, pressed further.  We both were left sobbing. Dallin finally expressed, "Katie, I think you have a problem with eating.  I think that might have something to do with this."
     I was in denial about the eating thing, but I was very embarrassed and ashamed of what I had shared with him.  Scared that he would feel trapped, that he would feel like he was was stuck dating this out-of-control girl who he couldn't leave if he wanted because I was too emotionally unstable, I tried to offer him a way out.  Since he had to leave the next morning for spring break in Arizona, I told him that we wouldn't talk for a week, and that he could do WHATEVER he wanted {including go out with other girls} for that time.
    Looking back, I realize that was my Starved Brain talking {it's actually a thing}.  Of course Dallin wasn't going to leave me and date around just days after I had admitted some very vulnerable things to him.  It probably scared the living freak out of him that I suddenly didn't want to talk.  He respected that wish for a little bit, but he called me not longer after he had left Utah to make sure that I was OK. I was happy to hear his voice. Still, even though I had brought this upon myself, it was a very long week with him away.  I was relieved to see him again and to realize that none of his feelings for me had changed during the ten days that I had given him to think through the situation-- that he was dating a girl who was out of her freaking mind.  

     At the same time though, Dallin wasted no time to get me help.  Since I refused to do anything myself, he {in his loving wisdom, bless his soul} called BYU counseling against my will and literally walked me to my emergency session. After my first-ever session with a therapist ended, Dallin was waiting on the couches and went with me to the BYU store to bye himself a snack.  He split the banana in half and tried to offer it to me, but I wouldn't take it. 
     "I already had lunch," I replied defensively.
     He cocked his head, knowing without a word that my "lunch" couldn't even count as a meager snack.  "Did you tell the therapist about the eating thing?"  
      "Dal," I protested.  "No, I told him about the other stuff. He said I have depression.  Look, I'm just trying to deal with one thing at a time here."
       "Gosh dang it Kate, I'm going to march you right back in there!"  He tugged at my hand, but I planted my feet. 
     

     That was in March.  In April, my weight dropped to its lowest as I prepared for finals.  I was no longer in denial that I had a problem with eating, but I didn't want to do anything about it because honestly I liked not eating, in that sick and twisted way.  Although I pretended to be freaked out by it, I was admittedly proud of myself for "finally" getting my weight down into the 80's.  Dallin, on the other hand, was actively seeking ways to help me.  He figured out my "safe" foods {trail mix and protein smoothies} and offered them to me almost every time I came to his house.  Heaven knows I needed any calories I was wouldn't blatantly refuse. He talked with his friend Nicole, who herself had dealt with anorexia as a teenager and had talked about her symptoms and experiences with all of his roommates a few months prior.  Dallin had picked up on some of the symptoms that I had in common with Nicole-- tearing my food with my fingers and eating it slowly...constantly baking and giving all the food I made away... 
     One day, Dallin arranged for Nicole and I to talk privately in a bedroom.  
     "I know you won't want to listen to me because you think I'm fat now." When I tried to shake my head, she called my bluff. "Trust me, I used to think exactly the same way."  
     She told me that now, her weight didn't matter as much as being healthy and being able to enjoy a brownie with her friends without stressing about it. "Katie, have you thought about what it would be like to be happy again?"  
     I honestly didn't think that was possible.  Nicole shared some very personal experiences with me, and eventually I had to sit down on the floor. 
     "You're lightheaded," she noticed, and just when I started to think that it was weird because I had eaten dinner, she added, "you haven't eaten enough." 
     Nicole was kind but blunt with me. As she talked about the possibility of getting checked into an in-patient therapy, I was mortified.  "I don't want my parents paying for my therapy!" I defended.  
     She shook her head. "Either your parents pay for your help, or they pay for your funeral.  It's that simple." 
     The statement hit me like a ton of bricks, and tears rolled down my cheeks as I realized that I was so so sick and had no idea how to change something that I didn't even want to change. I was so depressed that it made no sense for me to make choices based off of my own future well-being, because I didn't really care about my future anymore.  Nicole knew that. She'd been there.  
     "I'm here for you," she said gently.  "I know you don't want a hug, because people like us don't like touch--" {that was mostly an emotional truth, but recently I had become so physically fragile that when my boyfriend and I kissed, it felt unnaturally like I might just break} "--but I'm here for you.  And you have to promise me something.  What do you want to name your first daughter?"  
     "Vienna," I answered, eyeing her warily.  
     "The next time you have a cruel thought about yourself-- you try to tell yourself that you aren't beautiful, or that you aren't worth it-- I want you to replace your own name with Vienna's."
     "I could never say something like that to her!"
     "Exactly."




   It's not like Dallin and I always had this perfect relationship.  In September, we broke up, too anxious about the future to be able to stick together.  I relapsed a bit, yet in that entire month and all the nights I couldn't sleep, I couldn't help but think about how the way Dallin had dealt with me and my trials was such a reflection of how great a father he would be to his future daughters.  In a world where everyone is flaunting something for money -- a tiny waist for a swimsuit brand, a bubble butt for a YouTube workout channel, a lowcal entree for a trendy diet-- I realized how valuable it was that Dallin had always seen through the bulls**t that the world pushes on women.  He had always emphasized my health above ALL ELSE, and yet all the while {no matter what I weighed} always made me feel like the most beautiful girl on the planet.  When I really thought we were broken up for good, I wondered if I would ever find another guy that treated me like that.
     When he came back a month later, that was one of the reasons that I knew just as strongly as he that I wanted us to be together.  When we got engaged three months after that, that was one of the reasons I was able to shout YES so emphatically. He had always made me feel worth it. He never demeaned me or made me feel like a crazy person despite all the mental ups and downs that resulted from me starving my own brain tissue. He saw my potential and talked about it, like I was meant to be a strong and composed mother-figure somewhere down the road, I just had to figure myself out first.   

     Now, I am doing leaps and bounds better.  Something clicked after I had a mild relapse over Christmas break, and now for whatever reason I have suddenly felt completely motivated to take care of myself and my body, no matter how much food and rest it takes.  I tell myself that my eating disorder is in the past, and while that may be an illusion, it's been incredibly empowering to to put that label behind me and really focus on feeding my needs.  Dallin always keeps a close eye on me, and he is more aware of my unhealthy thoughts or decisions that I am.  He will always bring me an extra granola bar or stop what he's doing to make me an egg because he knows I'm often too hesitant to get myself another snack after a meal, even when my stomach is grumbling.  He is ALWAYS positive regarding my body, but he expresses excitement at me continuing to gain weight for my health's sake...and honestly because what man doesn't love a little more womanly shape! 

     One of my biggest fears is not being able to set a good example for Vienna and my other future daughters, and sending them the wrong message about their relationship with food and their body.  Heaven forbid they ever go down the path I took, but regardless of what trials or struggles they may face, I hope they can have people in their lives like Dallin and Nicole who truly make them feel like they deserve every ounce of health, happiness, and self-love. 

     When I first saw the number 89 on the scale, it was thrilling.
     10 weeks later, when the doctor told me for the first time that I was anorexic, there was no shock, only guilt. Shame. Disgust. If they were going to force me to visit the health center, then I had at least I thought that a diagnosis would help me feel validated. Instead, my eyes welled over with tears as she informed me of all the negative impacts my body was beginning to experience as a result of malnutrition. Somehow, it wasn't just in my head anymore. It was real. And I felt oh so stupid.
    So how did it happen?
 
     THE SHORT VERSION: I realized in a blog post here that body dysmorphia and an unhealthy relationship with eating began when I was 11. I had heard so much about bad foods and body image that at a tender age I didn't know how to healthily comprehend it.  Within 2 scary years, my intense fear of anything over 150 calories subsided, but over the next 7 years my methods of "healthy living" fluctuated between obsessions with tape measurements, "whole foods," rigid exercise, lifestyle and vegan Instagrammers, occasional calorie restrictions, and often complete removal of wide ranges of food groups.
   When I moved to Provo the January following my mission in Europe {where I gained weight}, it was the first time I had REAL authority over my own diet and exercise routine. Combine that with perfectionism and the stress of heavy schoolwork in a new environment... my 2-year obsession with getting back my "sexy high school body" {100 pounds, already achieved in December} warped into a craving for lower and lower numbers. I was using extreme restriction -- starvation -- as a means of coping with unprecedented levels of anxiety.  Anorexia nervosa offered me an artificial high off of a very sick form of control.
 
     And it was throwing me into a depression I thought I could never climb back out of.
 
     Pi Day was the day Dallin confronted me for the first time. BLESS HIS SOUL. I was finally willing to admit aloud that I was seriously depressed, but he insisted it was due to my lack of eating. I didn't believe him. After much wrestling about, he convinced me to visit the counseling center, but even to the therapist I wouldn't admit I had an eating problem. I liked how little I ate. It felt good. The empty sensation in my stomach felt more like those post-workout aches which are associated with hard work paying off. Besides, sometimes 89 pounds didn't even seem small enough.
    Meanwhile, I was a shell, a skeleton of my old self. I felt guilty for indulging in any hobbies besides exercise, but even then, at times when I was supposed to be having fun, I felt numb at best.  I was a zombie, void of any emotions outside of anxiety, self-loathing and despair. Social interaction was next to impossible because I could be in a crowded room and all the while feel like a ghost, only half there, blankly watching the people around me as if behind a gray veil. I couldn't... engage. It was dark and I was spiraling out of control.

     It wasn't until I went back home and shocked my family with my fragile appearance that I started to snap out of it.  I realized I had younger sisters who had always looked up to me as an example, and right now I was LAST the person I'd want them to model their lives after.
     I grudgingly met with a psychologist specializing in E.Ds; she immediately had me set up a doctors appointment along with regular meetings with herself, group therapy and a dietician.  I was highly skeptical of all of it because I still had very little desire to change.
 
    2 months later, the state of my eating disorder varies from day to day. But today is a very good day, and yesterday my therapist was so excited to show me the insanely improved results of my E.D. and mental health examinations.  For the past 1/2 week, I have eaten substantial meals and snacks and hardly felt any guilt; on the other hand, I have started to see many types of food not as numbers but as fuel excellent for the sustaining of my body. I am ravenous in recovery because I have switched into a hyper-metabolic state; the neurons in my brain are firing wildly as they are fed the nutrients they were deprived of my so long.
   The more I see positive results, the easier recovery becomes.  Much more often I find myself abounding in energy.  MY BRAIN HAS SWITCHED BACK ONLINE.  Gosh, it's insane! I've learned that I wasn't doomed to a future of clinical depression, rather my brain was starved and couldn't produce the chemicals necessary to sustain my mental health! I hadn't realized how dulled my capacities were until suddenly I started eating and then felt like KATIE WAS BACK, until suddenly I could laugh and smile and get angry and actually experience emotions beyond the cold and empty blues. I LOOK FORWARD TO TOMORROW.
  Yes, tomorrow is at last an enjoyable and exciting prospect. And so is the next day and the next, and twenty years from now too. On hardest of days, when I want nothing more than to let the E.D. take over again, I remind myself of a future in which my fertility AND my ability to model healthy body image for my daughters depends on the choices I make today in my recovery.

My email is kelundgreen@gmail.com

 
 

I just barely got home from the oral surgeon.
Less than an hour after Dallin's plane took off, they stuck a needle in me, put a mask over my mouth and then I don't remember anything until I was in the waiting room surrounded by siblings.  With my wisdom teeth gone and my mouth filled with guaze, I remember I didn't think anyone would understand me so I motioned for my mom's phone I wrote, "Did my heart do anything?"  I have been having chest pains and am scheduled for an appointment with the cardiologist, but since I was hooked up I was hoping that I would experience the angina so they could see if the moniter wigged out.  Then I typed, "Am I gonna remember this?" but apparently I do... let's see if it stays that way.  I think I typed something else, not sure, but I know I asked Eric for a hug.  I really wanted to tickle him, but I didn't because then they would blame it on the drugs.  I kept giggling.  Before going in I gave my mom my glasses, but when I asked for them back she thought I was making it up!  But I tried to tell her through my gauze, "Mom you're not the one on drugs, yet I can remember I wore my glasses because I was scared I would try to take my new contacts out if they were dried out when I woke up!"  She is yet to remember. I felt semi like a gymnast because the only way for me to walk to the car without crumpling into the nurse's arm was by walking on the balls of my feet.  I remembered a lot, including the fact that Dallin left and how I was dreading taking my teeth out because I was worried I would either be bawling my eyes out or say something raunchy.  While getting in the car I told my mom that I needed to be careful because Dallin thought he could handle himself and almost nailed his head on the car. I kept almost falling over in my seat and they all would freak out. I was really proud for being able to control myself, though I apologized to my siblings for being boring.  They said I wasn't, and my mom said I was being way too talkative.  Eric tried to trick me by saying that 9+10=21, although I initially misheard it as 9x10 and told them 90, so they thought I was stupid.  I told them maybe my abnormally thin face would maybe look normal because of the swelling, but when I looked in the mirror I realized that it's more my jaw swollen so I told my mom I currently have an inverted triangle face.  She laughed and thought it was my drug brain, but no that's a real thing if you take a face shape test!  
I can't really walk that well.  My brain is definitely not connected properly to my body and as I type I'm getting progressively dizzier, though also progressively more cohesive.  Now my mom is asking what I'm doing because apparently being on drugs is no excuse to be blogging.  Psht.  I've thought since waking up that I'm being fairly normal but we'll see about that when I watch my video.

my chubby lopsided attempt at a smile

    For my biology class I've been asked to research a topic I feel passionate about.  I've been interested in nutrition since I was eleven years old.  Although I'm by no means a stickler on what I eat {I've kinda slacked off on my exercise/good diet amidst the stress of exams}, I've since then been fairly good about exchanging white with whole grain, chip bags with air-popped corn, and ice cream with homemade smoothies.  I eat small portions, I don't care much for soda, and I LOVE a salad chock full of colorful fruits and veggies.
     A BMI test using my gender, age, height, weight and waist measurement indicates I am healthy.  But is this just genetics?  Or does it have to do with the fact that my parents never bought Cocoa Puffs or Wonder Bread or Twinkies while I was growing up?  Studies show that genetics DO play a part, but they are by no means a life sentence.  The bigger factor in most people {I won't speak for those with health afflictions} is lifestyle choice, and whether or not they exercise and eat nutritiously.

*Although I love working out and along with a healthy diet was signed up for gymnastics before I can even remember, I focused my research on how to be healthy based off of food.*

      Statistics from USDA Economic Research Service show that U.S. food consumption, as a percent of calories, is 63% processed foods {added fats, oils, sugars, refined or bleached grains}, 25% animal products {meat, fish, dairy, eggs} and only 12%  plant foods {fruits, veggies, legumes, nuts, seeds whole grains BUT NOTE that up to 6% of this number could include the peanuts in a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup or the mushrooms on a pizza}.  Americans also show some of the worst rates of osteoporosis, heart and lung diseases, obesity, and diabetes.  
      Meanwhile, Zen Habits states that "The healthiest populations in the world are plant based: the Okinawans (traditionally eat almost all plants such as sweet potatoes, soybeans, lots of veggies, with a little fish and occasional pork), the Sardinians (beans, veggies, red wine, some cheese, meat only once a week), and the vegan Seventh-Day Adventists in Loma Linda, California who are the longest-living Americans." 
      Animal products are the only sources of cholesterol.  Because meat requires more acid to break it down and also causes the activation of more enzymes by the pancreas, it is harder on the digestive system than plant foods.  Some food for thought:  cows are artificially inseminated every year to continue providing milk.  So the 36 hormones and growth factors we drink are actually meant for the calves which are supposed to rapidly grow to 1000-1800 pounds.   Also, to make one pound of meat requires using ten pounds of grain, which could've been used to feed the hungry in impoverished countries.
     Plants, on the other hand, are the only sources of fiber, which not only aids in digestion but swells as it passes thus decreasing the absorption of cholesterol and glucose.  Because they are packed with nutrients, plants fill a person up faster so there is less room for the empty calories of processed foods.  They also require less portions consumed to provide immense amounts of energy, since plants are autotrophs and 90% of the energy is lost on each level of the food chain. 

   When choosing a diet, it is important to remember that there are vitamins, minerals, and other nutrients all essential to our health and well-being.  Since matter is neither created nor destroyed, every element that was ever on our mother earth is still here, and she will provide her living with it.  Here is a list I compiled of some of the essentials, with several sources ALL from some form of plant-based food, be it fruit, veggie, bean, nut, legume, or grain:

Proteins {MAKE UP US}  — beans, chia seed, hemp, spinach, peas, kale, nuts, quinoa, lentils, grains, tempeh, mushrooms, sprouts, broccoli, Brussel sprouts, corn, asparagus, artichokes {a complete protein includes an adequate proportion of the 9 essential amino acids, and an example would be black beans with brown rice}

I am by no means stating that a person should only eat whole and plant-based foods.  But by increasing the amount and the variety in their diet, their is no doubt that a person will feel increased energy, lose weight, and overall show the short and long-term effects of an abundance of nutrients.  A healthy body typically boosts happiness levels as an individual suffers from less sluggishness, gains more confidence as they become more fit, and overall aid cognitive function for proper balance of mood chemicals. 
 

 Information from:
Animal Welfare Approved, WebMD, Zen Habits, Self-Nutrition Data, Mind-Body-Green, Global Healing Center, World’s Healthiest Foods, SF Gate, Mayo Clinic, Fit Day