Wow, you’re so organized. Man, I’d love to be able to plan like you. The dedication to your diet and exercise routine is incredible. I wish I had your willpower and discipline.
Those are the words I would often hear from friends, family, and co-workers. To them, it appeared that I was on top of the world. However, those outside observers had no idea of the hell that I was living on the inside.
If I didn’t plan or organize, then the obsessive thoughts would consume me. If I “cheated” on my diet or took a day off from working out, then I assumed I was a complete failure, and some sort of horrible disease was imminent. The anxiety was paralyzing, but I never said a word because I worried I would appear weak or inferior as a man.
In July 2020, I crashed hard into rock bottom. Years of suppressed pain and grief from losing my parents at an early age had taken their toll. The relentless echo of harsh words from childhood bullies and inner critics left me feeling like an insecure disappointment. The constant need for control over every aspect of my life finally became too much to handle. My obsession with healthy, clean eating had destroyed me mentally, emotionally, and physically.
The problem was I never saw rock bottom coming until it was almost too late. In a world full of stigmas and stereotypes, I thought I was doing the right thing. Men don’t talk about their emotions, right? They certainly don’t battle eating disorders.
Then came the pita incident. While out of town for the 4th of July holiday, my husband and I stopped at a restaurant in downtown Cheyenne for dinner. I identified this as a “safe” place after researching local restaurants and menus for hours. A common occurrence back then. I ordered the hummus platter. However, I HAD to substitute the pita for fresh vegetables. Carbs were enemy number 1, and if I dare ate just a bite of bread, then I assumed cancer was around the corner. The waiter responded that they did not have any veggies and could not make the substitution.
I started crying, grew aggressive, and wanted to leave immediately. I was done with the trip. At that moment, my husband spoke up. He expressed his concerns about my eating habits and weight loss. He acknowledged the unresolved pain inside and the negativity that was eating away at my character. His words resonated as I realized that I no longer wanted to live like this. All this time, I thought I was in control, but I was just a hostage to my own mind.
Later that week, I met with my doctor and explained the situation. I told him about this obsession with healthy eating, the strict food rules, the anxiety, the guilt, the insecurity, and the unresolved pain inside. He would go on to diagnose me with an unspecified eating disorder (later discovered to be orthorexia), anxiety, and obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Stunned, I sat there shocked that a guy could battle an eating disorder. For years, diet culture made me believe I was doing the right thing, but it had gone too far. In addition, I’d always been one to joke about OCD, never realizing the actual damage it can cause. It’s not a funny adjective; it’s a severe mental illness.
I’d eventually connect with a therapist to work through the pain, anxiety, and insecurity. Always one for writing, I bought a little yellow journal and wrote these words on the inside of the front cover.
Trust the process. Embrace the process. Eventually, enjoy the process.
It was difficult at first, and it still is at times. Recovery is a process just like climbing a mountain; however, I have to remember to focus on where I’m at today, at this moment. I have to trust my treatment team. I have to embrace the challenges. And just like a mountain climber, I must remember to stop and celebrate the small things on the way to the top.
Along this hike, I’ve seen how living inside my comfort zone allowed my orthorexia and OCD to thrive but now that I’ve stepped out, I am the one who is thriving. I still like to plan, organize, and eat healthily, but I’m finding balance. I use my planning skills to organize advocacy events through my organization Orthorexia Bites or to compile a grocery list guaranteed to get me in and out of the store quickly. I also understand that one should never sacrifice their mental, emotional, or social health for the pursuit of physical health, no matter what diet culture tries to sell you.
Further, I’ve witnessed the strength that comes with vulnerability. For years, I thought guys couldn’t talk about emotions. I feared it would make me appear weak or inferior. After all, boys don’t cry, right?! But, after speaking with other men around the world and publishing my memoir, I realized that being the strongest man in the room has nothing to do with how much he can lift; it has to do with how much he can share.
Jason Wood
Author & Speaker
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