"It": the silent struggle.

By. Kylie Conroy

“But you're skinny.” This phrase has been thrown at me my whole life. Those three words are the emptiest meaningless words you can say to someone who is struggling. Sometimes it's not really what it's about.

Since the 8th grade I have always been the one who “looks anorexic” or that's what the boys would say behind my back while some even worked up the courage to say it to my face. One memory that will forever be stuck in my head was sitting at the lunch table with my friends laughing at something stupid as most 8th graders do…A boy in my class approached our table… I can visualize to this day what I was wearing… and the tone of his voice saying; “you’re a pancake with chocolate chips''. At 13 years old I had no idea what this even meant, but I knew from the distant laughter of the boys across the cafeteria it was no compliment that's for sure. Asking my one close guy friend who was one of the laughing boys what that meant he proceeded to tell me; “You're flat and have no boobs''. Tears filled my eyes as shame and embarssemnt filled my apparent “flat'' chest. The 8th period bell rang meaning it was time for writing lab. Mrs Gilvary saw my teary puffy eyes as I tried to avoid eye contact with anyone near as she sent me down to the guidance counsler. I told her what happened at lunch and she followed with; “names please”...immeditly regretting my decision in telling her who I ended up getting picked up by my mom through the nurses office; “I dont feel well actually”.

From this moment on my body became something I noticed more and more. Google was no longer a site used for vines, but instead was used for looking up ways to get my period quicker. The beginning of 8th grade I had to be checked by a doctor in order to move up to varsity cross country. I remember being confused at first, but my mom told me it was because I still didnt have my period and usually that's something you need to play at a higher level sport. But since running was not considered to be “high impact” in the way that lacrosse or soccer may have been, I was able to compete despite the fact that I did not have it yet. I quickly excelled at the sport. As many people told me I would. Running with the seniors made me realize this was something I was not just good at, but great at. This was a feeling I continuously craved. Running was finally where I belonged. My aunt told me it would be my passion from the moment I was 10 running with her and my mom down the block of my grandma's street. From all those elementary school miles where I passed all the “atheletic boys”, I knew running was my calling and this was the validation to prove so. My 8th grade times were probably my fastest times I ever ran, and later on I would blame it on my body. “So that's the body I need to be fast again”, but also was the same body that boys would continuously make fun of. A body I would stare at crying in the mirror while praying I would look like my peers around me. But it also was the body that made me run the fastest. I never realized it at the time, but I realized it when my times were slower. When my times were slower boys started to make new comments that went a little like; “wow look you're not flat anymore”. Finally…praise and validation rose to my brain. Finally I was accepted. On the flip side though; when this body change made the decision to translate into my running and my times showing up slower, I thought it was a bad thing. Something I wished for so deeply everynight made me run slow. How does that even make any sense?

So at some point I finally put two and two together. The summer going into my junior year I kpet a journal in which I tried to only eat healthy foods.I logged what I would eat for each meal. This journal became obsessive and to this day it's probably still stacked up along with my other journals I'll never seem to be able to throw away.It was the control I craved. And it was kept a secret hidden away. I wanted this coming cross country season to be exactly how my 8th/9th grade years were. I started out good. Not great, but certainly better. I remember my coach telling me that it finally clicked again. Little did he know or anyone know I thought that eating clean and less were the reason for these times dropping. Until, shin splints. Or at least that's what we thought it was. One invitational I remember knowing deep down there is no way I'm going to be able to run this race. But I wanted to and my coach did too, so I prayed that I would be fine. Pain is temporary.Running is pain…what's a little extra going to do??… Compression sleeves on my shins and calves while I raced. Immediately I was left limping through the course just trying to get to the finish line at this point because there was no way in hell I was going to just drop out. I'm no quitter. I was found finishing with the worst time I have ever ran in my whole life while I collapsed at the line with embarrassment, unable to even walk because of a pain I never felt before. Following that horrific race, I took time off obviously. You would think “well I would hope so”, but really it was because I still needed to race at countys for my team. The same race that I was limping at translated to this one.

I ended up going to state with my team, just not racing. States that year is filled with a memory of me limping next to my coach in pain cheering on my teammates while filled with internal disappointment. This felt worse than my leg pain. Jealousy and sadness followed me on this trip becuase I wanted to toe the line with my team and show what I can accomplish and little did I know that also was the last cross country state championship I would have been able to race at due to covid. Covid hit the following months and I was not running bascially at all. Instead Netflix became my new best friend and my room became my dungen of darkness because if the world was on psaue then so was I. But, weight was gained and I surely noticed.

The summer following I had no motivation to run thinking there was no possibility of another season because of covid. I was still training for a season and contact with my coach was kept in the hopes of getting everyone together to train like there was going to be a season. No one followed in my footsteps to train besides 1 or 2 girls, but even then I had it in the back of mind that the hopes for a season was slim to none. The fall ended up being intramural sports. No competition, only practices on the day that your last name allowed you to be at school and mine happened to be on the days where I was with none of my teammates besides my one guy teammate I was close with. It was a joke. I did have one idea in the back of my mind though and that was college running. I knew it's what I wanted and I had options to run at some schools. I just didnt know where I wanted to go or what I wanted to do with my life. I was stressed. This stress brought out a whole new level of issues even unrelated to running. My struggles went way deeper than just body image, running and eating. I was introduced into a whole new world of a way I could eat food that I loved but also not let it influence my body's weight. I was intrigued and addicted. It became a routine of shame, but also a fear and feeling of knowing the ones closest to me were engaging in similar behaviors. Each of us pretending they werent, but deep down knowing when one would be. This behavior escalated to worries of some around me because not only was that behavior introduced, but more and more restriction of food was added leading to an unhealthy body that was followed with: “you're so skinny” and with some “you look sick bro wtf”. Shamefully, these comments weirdly felt like praise that I was doing it right. The one who showed the most worry and care was someone who helped me for the first time. He introuduced me to a life of lifting and focusing on eating healthy foods that will make me strong, but it was also still all about my body and what it looked like, so again just another obsession.

Cross country season was moved to the spring which was great. My times were good again and I found my love for this competitive sport. I felt like my old self again and I didnt want to let this part of my life go just yet. How could I? Leading me to finally decide to run in college again. The newfound love I discovered back when I was 13 finally rose back to the surface where it belonged.Quitting lacrosse and making the decison to run outdoor track something so many people continuously have wanted me to do in the past; Brought me to a realization that I loved running around in circles on a track way more than I loved running through the woods. My times were finally dropping the way I would pray for and the way I worked so intensely for so long. It was clicking again wasnt it? Surely my times were good, but I was at my worst mentally. I was at a low weight coming off a time where I was at my lowest weight ever. But still college running was the light at the end of this dark tunnel I may have been stuck in. I saw it as the way out of this darkness.

College came around the corner. College running. College friends. College life. Overwhelmed with fear and excitement at the same time. It was harder than expected both mentally and phsycially especailly being a Divison one athelte.Along with a new place that would for the time being be my home, I was introduced to a new way of everything followed by many with new faces who ovetime became my friends. A new life where I can start anew. One thing I guess I never really thought too hard about was a new variable of my life called “Locke's Loft”. The dining hall. Something I never realized would have so much of an effect on me. Until I was consumed by it. Anxious to go alone, but also anxious to eat around others. Especially my team. This dining hall became a new fear of mine. A nightmare.I was always used to eating whatever my mom was cooking which was usually “healthy”. I knew it was good for me becuase why would my mom be making us food that was bad for us?

But this dining hall. I don't think it cared. I was afraid of it. What do I eat? I found myself closely watching everyone else and what they ate. This was a fear leading me to copy and mimic those around me and eat what everyone else was eating…

I can't eat something weird.

If I eat this I'll look fat.

Dont finish everything but also dont leave too much food..

What if everyone is judging what I eat?

I dont want to look like I have a problem…

Racing thoughts… continued on. Each meal. Until I tried to avoid meals entirely. But then again. If i dont go to meals… someone will catch on.

Plan was to eat. But relapse to old habits yet again.

I continued to struggle in silence. My first semester of college led me to continuously get sick. Strep throat was my newfound enemy. Every 2 weeks I was on a new antibiotic that never seemed to help or keep it away. Training was continuously interrupted by yet another prescription of pills and rest. Back to square one of not being able to eat because I was not running. In fear of gaining weight during those periods of rest. Motivation was continuously lost again and again.I didnt even find myself to enjoy running the way I used to. Why was I doing this to myself? I didnt see a reason anymore, I just wanted to stop. I didnt know what I wanted anymore. All I knew was that I was struggling. Yet again in silence. Because struggle is embarrassing right? Or at least that's what was embedded into my sily brain yet again and again…

Little did I know that at the time me being sick was probably due to the fact that my immune system was so bad from not eating enough.Surely there were other reasons for this too; Such that college itself brings so many more germs than we actually realize. From the bathrooms, to the dorms to the dining halls. I also did end up even needing a tonsillectomy because that was the only way I would stop getting strept throat since my body was no longer responding to the antibiotics.

Winter break felt like it would be what I needed mentally and physcially. But on the flip side, the break led me to want to stay home and never go back to school. The Struggle was bad again. Maybe home is what makes it bad? I thought running must be the reason for all of this struggle.Instead, I stepped away from a sport that was my identity. Whether I wanted to or not I knew deep down my struggle was never going to go away until I let myself get help. I started talking with someone professionally about my issues and at first it felt weird. I found myself lying a lot while hiding most of what I really should have been telling her in order for her to actually help me and do her job that my mom was paying her to do. Stepping away from the sport never really helped, instead I felt even worse. This just gave me the excuse to not eat more. I felt overwhelmed with a depression I have never exprienced, where I masked it with smiles and going out when that's not what I really wanted to be doing.I wanted to be running. I would watch my roommate pack her bags for meets I wish I was going to. Everyday she would leave for practice at the same time. I would stay in bed and cover my head hiding from the shame and guilt that I should be there. Why am I not? Because I have a messed up brain… I felt alone. I felt like no one cared or understood. I felt crazy.

During this time I was left with thoughts of feeling I was never sick enough. Or I never would be sick enough for my problem to be valid. I didnt look sick enough for someone to be worried about me. And it wasnt really about needing someone to be worried or even notice. I think it was more of a feeling that I really didnt have a problem if I didnt fully look like it. This feeling was always carried awith me.

One thing I began to realize was that It was never going to be fixed. It's something that's always going to be in the back of my head or above me like a rain cloud awaiting to pour. I did find that therapy was able to teach me ways I can learn to live and deal with it. Coping mechanisms. Medication. And speaking about my struggles.

Going into my Sophomore year was difficult dealing with alot even besides eating. Other personal issues and stressors on top of just life. In terms of eating I felt as if I was Doing better or at least making the effort to try. These Cycles do come and go which is something I needed to allow myself to try and understand. It's not black and white. And it never will be that simple. I began to look at my struggle as a gray area and when I was doing good I was doing good but when I was doing bad I was really doing bad. And it changes just as seasons do, sometimes faster, sometimes slower. But I found myself learning to cope better and deal with it with a bit more grace and ease. But still thoughts would fade in every now and then: Why does this not go away? When will I be normal? Why am I not normal?

I was always so afraid to say how bad I was struggling because nothing could be worse than not being able to run or being told I CAN'T run…

So you lie to others and yourself. I have never been good at lying. But one thing I can lie about is my struggles and eating or at least hide it. It's a game. But this game is a killer. It's a dangerous one. One that should not be messed around with. Reminders were placed into my phone to eat at times when I thought I would need to or when I would “allow” myself to. To this day these reminders remain there, in fear of getting rid of them. Maybe in fear that if I get rid of them I no longer need them and that scares me…. recovery scared me. Being okay was a fear of mine… Unexplainable, but understnable for those who may deal with it.

Instead of obsessing so much over food I began to obsess more over my mileage. BUT, it ended up getting bad again….but my motivation for running was at its highest. So yet I was bad at eating and running higher mileage. I wanted to be GREAT. Really great.

Following winter break I found myself with my iron levels being at a 5. Then, following immediately as I arrived back to school after a pretty great few weeks of training in which I was confident about and ready to compete in this coming track season, I was left injured. I instantly knew it was a stress fracture. The pain I felt was something I knew was bad and what could be wrose than a stress fracture? I ended up being unfortunately right about the pain being a stress fracture and found myself in a walking boot along with that depression cloud back over me.The cloud was dark and scary. Not only did I find myself in a boot but I also found myself lying to a doctor telling her I was fine when she asked about my diet and my period… Instead saying that I used to struggle but “I was overall okay now”. A lie. I knew deep down that my stress fracture was most likely because of underfueling. Of course, there are other factors that play into reasons people get injured and get stress fractures, but deep down I knew why for me.

I felt guilty. I did this to myself. I knew I would have had a really great outdoor season. I did this to myself. I was mad at nobody but myself….I Began to punish myself… Why should I get better now? The worst has already happened. Something I was afraid of… but surely there is so much more than just that. My health is important, my fertality is important, my body is important, my life is important and so is yours. I may not be able to change the past, but I can change my future. And what I do next. Sometimes bad things happen in order for us to learn from them. So maybe getting a stress fracture is for my eyes to be open and that it's time to open up a bit more.

Why did I find myself lying about me struggling? Why do we feel the need to hide our struggles? because of fear of being weak? IT'S OKAY TO STRUGGLE. And I will say it again. I will shout it out the window or from the top of a building for whoever needs to hear this. I know lying about struggles is on no one but the person themselves. Because in reality if i rached out i would get help, but I'm afraid because why? What's the reason for one believing they need to lie about their struggles? It's the lack of awareness or the lack of openness to speak about subjects like this. Yes overtime certainly there has been a newfound openness that has shed light on these issues and people opening up sharing their stories. But it's still something that's stigmatized, pushed away or spoken about in ways to “not trigger”. Eating disorders, disordered eating and body image are topics that people are apprehensive to discuss openly or they graze past it just enough that its mentioned and spoken about but carefully. Carefully spoken about as if one is walking across a frozen lake just slowly enough in fear of falling through. When a crack is made in the frozen over lake, quickly you backtrack back to land.Where it is Safe… But this is where the issue lies… The frozen over lake needs to be fully broken through. Openly spoken about the deeper topics within larger groups of people to be fully made aware of struggles and deepr issues.

“EATING IS NOT HARD”. It's a human action we were taught to do in order to survive. And this is what I hear people say all the time. OR “Just eat” or “you need to eat”... we know. I know. But it's NOT that easy. It shouldnt be that hard, yes. But it is for some and this is something that needs to be openly spoken about. Amongst friends. Families. Parents to children. Coaches to athletes. And just people.Maybe the Fear lies deep beneath being taken out of the sport like I was/am. Maybe that's why some athletes choose not to open up, because of that fear. But education is needed no matter what for athletes. Not just females but all athletes.

I found myself as I was writing this referring to my eating disorder as “it” or “my struggle”. And this is part of the problem. Maybe I am also part of the problem then. Afraid to say what “it” really is. We move around certain topics regarding mental health in fear of looking weak or feeling shame for dealing with a problem that more than 30 million people in the United States struggle with. And by no means am I stating that it should be normalized but SPEAKING about it should be. Because being afraid to open up and share one's story is when change and advocacy happens. I dont have all the answers to how this can happen or what needs to be done to change. But I do know that sharing this could be the start. Everyone carries baggage and not everyone needs to or has to feel comfortable sharing that baggage, but carrying it around like a weight on your back is detrimental. And not easy. This is me finally taking that overbearing weight off my shoulders and sharing my story and I recommend you do the same. Whether you share your story or keep it hidden away in your desk drawer or burn it and rip it into tiny little pieces I promise you that you will find yourself “ironically ''10 pounds lighter( sorry dark humor joke…probally not the time nor the place for this joke). But I for one am going to share this to motivate or encourage anyone who struggles with anything similar, or completely different in any aspect of their life to normalize again speaking about the “stuff” that should not be tip-toed around or watched how much or what is said. Because that's where this fear of getting help and recovery is rooted from.

Because I matter & so do you <3