11 minute read
An Econ Major’s Survival Guide for Eating Disorders
By Michelle Wu
If you go to a bookstore looking for a survival guide, you’ll find plenty. There’s How to Survive in the Wild, A Camper’s Survival Handbook, What to Do When Stranded on an Island, Wilderness Survival Guide, and, well, you get the idea. Hell, there’s even a hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy! There are all of those, but none for surviving an eating disorder. Even with the wide selection of self-help books in a tucked-away corner in Barnes & Noble, you’ll most likely encounter pastel-colored notebooks for daily affirmations and mindfulness—all of which are probably amazing, mind you—but none that will gently berate you and chastise the bulimia out of you.
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So how did I survive bulimia? How did I survive the purges? How did I get through every single day of hating the reflection in the mirror for two years?
Well, I survived with a handbook of my own, written in the way I knew best. Economics. So here is my survival guide—or economics textbook rewritten, I suppose—for getting past an eating disorder alive.
Lesson 1: You are NOT a rational consumer.
The first lesson to learn, or in this case, unlearn, is that you are not a rational consumer. Economic models and theories are based on the principle that individuals are rational agents who act in their best self-interest and, of course, the concept of ceteris paribus, other things equal. This is a way of saying that all other factors are assumed to be constant or unchanging, in our case only focusing on the eating disorder (or the food, but never both). Get that ceteris paribus bullshit out of your mind. You are irrational in the moment, and it is okay. You are allowed to not always make decisions to maximize your utility or profits or happiness because bulimia doesn’t make you a rational agent. It twists your mind and alters your perception of yourself. Bulimia forces you to eat until you’re nauseated and feel like your guts might explode so that you have no choice but to throw it back up later. It is completely valid to NOT hold all things equal. In fact, do the opposite. Think of all the little things that are affecting your life that throw off your internal balance.
It took me a long time to learn this lesson. At one point, everything going on in my life seemed to suck me into a downward spiral. My aunt had cancer, my mom was always sick, I was losing my friends, and my grades were slipping. It was this feeling of losing control that pushed my already existing insecurities over the edge. I needed to control something, even if it meant that I would destroy my health, both mental and physical, in the process. Ceteris paribus didn’t exist the first time I knelt in front of the toilet and hesitantly stuck my finger down my throat to vomit my dinner. But I pretended it did. I pretended that none of the other issues going on were affecting my actions. It’s just because I want to be skinny again, I would repeat to myself. It was a mantra that I knew wasn’t real but forced down my throat alongside my finger. Survival began once I started to recognize the other problems going on in my life and accepted that they were taking a toll on me.
The shame of being an irrational agent in the market also kept me quiet for a while. I didn’t want to be “that girl with the eating disorder.” I wanted to be “normal” like every other rational consumer. But EVERYONE, at least on some level, is an irrational consumer in the market, which took a long time for me to believe. Even if it’s not bulimia, people still slip up for instant-but-fleeting gratification, whether it be ridiculous shopping sprees that they can’t afford or skipping classes or even going back to their ex. It’s okay to sometimes make choices that don’t satisfy you in the short term because the right choice is not always the one that will suddenly make all your problems vanish. It is the right choice because it is what is good for you. Surviving an eating disorder faces that dilemma head on. It’s okay not to maximize your happiness or satisfaction in the moment. Purging was what I thought was making me happiest at that time, but being a rational consumer in that market would have ruined me.
Lesson 2: Monotonicity is a lie.
The second lesson to learn is that more is not better. Monotonicity implies that a consumer will welcome increased consumption regardless of other factors. But this isn’t the case when you already struggle consuming an “acceptable” amount of food. More food doesn’t make you healthier. In fact, it can be quite damaging when you are still in a negative state of mind. Yes, it’s good to eat more healthily. But that is not the same as eating more food. Again, you are not a rational consumer; more goods do not mean a more optimal bundle on the graph.
Monotonicity was something that I used dangerously. I knew I had to eat more food than before because I was purging all of it. Some of it had to stay down. But the issue was that I would allow myself to believe that I was going to eat a good amount of food where I would feel comfortable without purging. Of course, that never happened. Anytime I ate one thing that triggered an urge to expel it, I would overeat because I had just crossed the point of no return. At that point, I just wanted more of a reason to throw up, and more food seemed like the easy solution. More was not better because I used more as an excuse to purge.
Let me give you an example. On a nice sunny Saturday in May two years ago, my friends and I went out to brunch. I ordered some fancy avocado toast with arugula and all
sorts of fun sprouts on top. Completely harmless. The waiter came with my two delectable slices of toast, and it seemed like a safe morning for me. Key word: seemed. I opted to be cautious and only eat one slice and take the other home. But alas, my friends were taking so long to finish their large dishes of French toast, scrambled eggs, quiche, and other rich dishes that I was terrified of. So I made my fatal mistake. I nibbled on the second slice that I was saving. It was a game of Russian roulette, and I had lost. That small bite was the gunshot that killed that meal for me. I wanted all the food I had eaten to leave my body in that instant. So I used monotonicity against myself again. The rest of the toast was gone within minutes, and I gobbled down the bread meant for everyone at the table. The best solution is to understand limits and portions. Of course, do not restrict yourself, but having smaller meals or snacks throughout the day does wonders. I survived off of five to six small meals a day to make sure that I did not feel like I lost control of the amount of food I consumed. It’s okay to be full, but just be aware of what a good stopping point is. Do not let these economists fool you into believing otherwise.
The third lesson is a little more difficult. Whatever you do, make sure that the price elasticity of your choice is inelastic. What exactly does this mean? Elasticity in economics is the measure of how much demand changes due to a change in another factor, usually price or income. This is my way of saying that you shouldn’t feel guiltier or more ashamed because of what you purge. Just because the expensive dinner you had was what triggered you does not mean that you are more guilty. You should not feel guilty about having an eating disorder. Eating disorders are debilitating on their own. This is when you tell yourself that it is okay to slip up. And it doesn’t matter what or when. People understand the struggles. I understand and empathize with you. In short, do not allow your actions or feelings to be based on the value of a meal. It’s not just the price of a meal, of course. This is only one example, a simplified version of the actual equation.
Every time I purged was different. Sometimes I felt relieved to not have the food in me anymore. Most of the time I felt a little guilty, but mainly indifferent—it became a normal occurrence at some point. However, there were times when I felt truly wracked with guilt, shame, remorse, and utter defeat. These were the times when I had just purged what I considered a “special meal.” This included anything from a fancy restaurant meal to an extravagant dish my mom made to leftovers that I knew my brother wanted to eat, too. To vomit or to not vomit, that was the question that I asked myself. I didn’t want to waste such good food, but I needed it gone. For these meals, I was on the elastic side of the curve. Purging made me hate myself. I felt guilty for having eaten the food in the first place. Someone else could have enjoyed the food. The money spent on the meal was wasted. That food could have been saved for later. There were infinitely many reasons for the extra contempt and criticism I punished myself with. But this is the thing—do not be ashamed. Do not be on the elastic side of the curve. You are already in a difficult situation, so please do not emotionally hurt yourself even more. It’s okay to feel guilty at times, but always be kind.
Lesson 4: Substitute goods can save you.
The final lesson is the most critical for survival. In fact, if you only take away one lesson from this handbook, let it be this one. In the market that you are in, so many substitute goods are available to you. Substitute goods are any goods that will give you the same value as one in competition. This differs for everyone, but some examples are therapy, counseling, a whole new diet, journaling, and exercise, as well as loads more. Make good use of these because in the end, substitute goods can—and probably will—save you. Keep in mind, same value, not function!
It may be difficult, but reach out for the first substitute good you can find and allow it to save you. The difficult part is that sometimes you don’t want to be saved right away. I remember wanting to let the waves of bulimia carry me out into the ocean without a life vest. It was dangerous, but also easy. The issue is sometimes you sink, too. You get dragged underwater and realize that you need that substitute good to buoy you up until you can swim back to the shore. The day I realized that I wasn’t afloat anymore was on August 18, 2018, just 10 days after I turned sixteen. I can’t recall exactly what I ate that night that made me head straight to the bathroom, but I remember the sheer panic and urgency. I NEED to get this food out or I’m going to lose control. I’m going to get fat. I’m going to die. I hate myself. Those were the thoughts running through my mind, egging me on. I succumbed as usual, but this night was different. It was the same motion that was burned into muscle memory. The same bathroom. The same everything. But I looked down at the toilet in horror. It wasn’t just my dinner that was splattered all over. The vomit and the water was tinged crimson. I had thrown up blood. I don’t know if it was my stomach that had bled or my throat, raw from the daily stomach acid, but I was BLEEDING. I started sobbing. The tears engulfed me with the rest of the ocean that I had carelessly let myself drown in. I knew I had to change something. I didn’t want to wreck myself further. I needed a substitute good to replace this “bad habit.”
For me, I chose a difficult substitute that I wasn’t sure would work at first. I became more restrictive with my food. This sounds counterintuitive, but more specifically, I decided to become vegan. To me, veganism was the most
extreme “health-conscious” diet. If I could convince myself that everything I was putting into my body was “healthy” because it was vegan, maybe I could develop a whole new relationship with food. Veganism became my substitute good for a few years until I couldn’t sustain it in a healthy way anymore, but it did slowly stop my purging. Once I slowed down, I started bringing in more substitutes. Instead of feeling unhealthy and unhappy with what I ate and what I looked like, I started going to barre classes, which then led to a full gym membership. With the implementation of substitute goods into my life, the shame slowly became more bearable until I was able to finally open up to some of my closest friends and even my counselor at school. The wonderful thing about substitute goods is that sometimes they provide even greater utility than before. When you are at your nadir, know that there are so many substitutes for you in the market.
And that’s it. That is how I survived bulimia. Of course, I took so many other small steps along the way, and surviving was beyond the scope of four economics lessons. This guide is the result of many difficult years of struggling with bulimia, but it all will have been worth it if it helps someone else survive.
