FREE TO BE ME: CONFRONTING THE STIGMA
I’m Jason and I’m battling orthorexia. I’ll stop there.
That’s usually about as far as I get into a conversation with someone before they give me that puzzled look or ask what orthorexia is. Either that or they’re shocked that a guy can develop an eating disorder. I can’t blame them. I felt the same confusion when I came to terms with everything. That’s because we live in a world full of stereotypes and stigmas.
My eating disorder went unnoticed for years. My doctors applauded my low blood pressure, pulse, and body weight. My friends marveled over my commitment to eating healthy and working out. I took pride in my diet, believing it showed how much stronger I was than others.
Stigmas and stereotypes fooled me into thinking I didn’t have a problem. I still ate and I never threw up. Plus, guys don’t get eating disorders, right? In my mind, I was doing what was best for my body. I was pursuing a life of clean, healthy eating.
My unhealthy relationship with food escalated following a health scare at 29, when my doctor found several pre-cancerous polyps during a colonoscopy. My dad died of colorectal cancer when I was 11 and now I found myself at high-risk for the same fate. I didn’t want to die. My life was just starting and I was about to marry the man of my dreams. I went to work searching for remedies to the situation.
After researching fad diets online and surfing social media feeds, I dedicated myself to a healthier lifestyle in order to prevent cancer and disease. I started cutting out food group after food group based on what the latest blogs and influencers said.
Foods became good and bad based on their nutritional and macronutrient content. I associated these foods with my own self-worth. For instance, if I dared to eat a food on my “bad” list then I’d shame myself with guilt and blame for days.
Over time, I began skipping out on social functions to avoid “bad” foods. I remember leaving a friend’s birthday party early because the grilled vegetables had parmesan cheese on them. I started declining offers to meet up for dinner. If my husband and I did decide to go out to eat, I would spend hours researching menus online to identify the healthiest items. Yet, orthorexia hid in plain sight because others, including myself, thought it was a dedication to a “healthy” lifestyle. Again, I didn’t match the stereotypes!
Eating at home was no easier. One time I broke down crying in the grocery store parking lot because they were out of organic bananas. Other times I would force my husband to “healthify” every dish possible, which resulted in everything from soggy cauliflower crust pizzas to bitter alternative flour pancakes.
The addiction ultimately consumed my mind, body, and soul. Reaching the breaking point on a weekend trip out of town when the restaurant was unable to substitute the pita bread on the hummus platter for fresh vegetables. I went into a tailspin and refused to eat. At that moment, my husband acknowledged the pain he saw within me and spoke of his concerns for my mental and physical well-being.
Later that week, my primary care physician diagnosed me with an unspecified eating disorder. This didn’t sound that serious to me, sort of like the “other” box on a survey. The worst part of my initial visit was the fact that he didn’t know who or where to refer me to. When I asked for referrals, he simply said “look around online.”
Having never looked for a therapist before I told myself it couldn’t be that hard. However, when you type in “male therapist for eating disorders, OCD and anxiety,” you don’t really find what you need. There were several local eating disorder clinics for in-patient care, their websites were painted with images of women, who spoke about their battles with anorexia and bulimia but none of this was relatable to me.
I was a 34-year-old male with an eating disorder that didn’t even have a label. I often questioned whether or not I actually had an eating disorder since I was still eating food and not purging. I didn’t see the need for in-patient care but what other options were there? Nothing matched my needs, plus I had no idea exactly what I even needed at that point.
I eventually connected with a therapist and nutritionist who have helped me through my recovery. However, it was through my own research that I discovered the term orthorexia in a book I was reading. Not knowing what it was, I did that natural thing and googled it. I immediately realized that was what I’d been battling for years.
This discovery made me think about the countless number of other individuals out there who might think they just have a weird relationship with food. They may not realize that it is also consuming them much like it did with me. As a male with a lesser-known eating disorder, I realized the need to share my story and raise awareness.
Through my interactions with others and my support team, I’ve learned that the strongest and most courageous thing one can do is embrace vulnerability. For years, I felt uncomfortable in my own skin so I built walls to protect myself. However, it’s only been in recovery that I’ve realized how stereotypes and stigmas haunted me in more ways than one.
I grew up in a conservative family where being gay is frowned upon. Several family members stopped talking to me when they found out I was gay. I grew to hate myself for being gay and battled internalized homophobia.
I avoided being my authentic self to prevent further loss so I suppressed my pain, insecurities, and anxiety because that’s what I thought real men did. I overcompensated to appear masculine because I felt shame in being gay. I turned to my unhealthy relationship with food during these turbulent times in a futile attempt for stability and value.
My recovery mantra is to trust the process, embrace the process, and eventually enjoy the process. I guess the same holds true for vulnerability. Trust it, embrace it, and even enjoy it. Now that I’ve torn down the walls and am confronting the stigmas and stereotypes that enabled my eating disorder to thrive, I am able to hold space for myself and for others, which is the most rewarding part of the healing process.
