It’s time to talk about eating disorders

So, six months into my recovery, when I returned to campus, I vowed to be candid about my disorder and recovery journey because I knew the difference it would have made for me if others had talked about their experiences. I wanted others to know that recovery is possible because I didn’t used to think it was. For most of my life I felt deeply ashamed of my disorder, but in learning about my illness, I realized I didn’t have control over what happened to me. I wasn’t going to judge myself, and if others judged me, so be it.

When I was in residential treatment the fall of my second year, the staff of dieticians, therapists, psychiatrists and doctors agreed that it is impossible to recover from an eating disorder while still engaging in disordered behaviors, and unfortunately, excessive exercise was one of my biggest behaviors. Much to my chagrin, no one at my treatment program really cared about my cross country career — they were more concerned with keeping me alive. So, my new 20-minutestwice-a-week cap on exercise reduced my mileage to just 13% of my typical mileage while in season, and competition was off limits (competition is a huge part of exercise and something I will talk about in my next article).

When school resumed after the pandemic in fall 2021, I considered quitting. I couldn’t run and I didn’t know half my teammates, but being a cross country runner had been such a core part of my identity for so long — my team, my home — so I decided to stay. My coach offered me a managerial position, but I didn’t want that role. My situation felt more akin to an injury, so when people asked me if I was injured, I told them yes, I had an eating disorder. When they stared back at me blankly, I furthered my explanation: “my brain is very injured and it needs time to heal.”

In my pursuit to normalize recovery, I spoke more casually about my eating disorder, and found that I was filling a void on campus — people both in and outside of the athletic department came to me for support.

“I’m worried my friend has an eating disorder. What should I do?” “I have an eating disorder, but I don’t want to leave school.” “You are the only one who understands. Can we talk?”

While I was always happy to chat and lend help where I could, I simply do not have the tools or resources to adequately support these individuals. In some cases, I was the only person who knew about their disorder. Time and time again, I have seen coaches, families and friends fail to provide resources, treatment and care to those who desperately need support.

I’ve written about mental health in my column Mental Musings published in the S&B for years, but I always struggled to talk about eating disorders. They are an extremely nuanced and often very misunderstood topic, and I am terrified of misrepresenting anyone’s individual experience. However, nothing in my life has ever felt so pressing or important, so over a year ago, I began interviewing dozens of athletes, coaches, trainers, Student Athlete Mentors and faculty to gain more knowledge about how eating disorders are addressed at Grinnell College. I do not pretend to be the only person on campus who is aware of or trying to do something about this issue — there are many people who deep- ly care. One name that came up a lot in interviews was Carissa Tigges, the head athletic trainer and someone who many Grinnell teams use as a resource for eating disorder care. When I spoke with her last spring about writing this article, I told her about my experiences and impetus for interviewing her, and she responded, “We’ve had a handful of athletes that have gone to inpatient treatment, but you are the first one I’ve heard that would say it out loud.”

Tigges is one of many to comment on my candor. It is rare to hear someone talk about an eating disorder diagnosis, and many tell me I’m the first person they’ve heard talk about it openly. Our society has made leaps and bounds when it comes to discussing mental illness, yet eating disorders remain severely stigmatized.

The absence of substantive dialogue leaves both those with eating disorders and those trying to support people with eating disorders with an alarming dearth of information. This lack, combined with an utter scarcity of resources, has led me to believe that people with eating disorders may be one of the most under-supported groups on campus.

This disease is too common and too dangerous to ignore. Eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness; the National Eating Disorder Association has estimated that someone dies from eating disorder