Anonymous

Featuring a sunset at SMU

Before reading, this letter discusses an experience with an eating disorder. If you think that reading about this will be triggering for you, we encourage you to take a pause before reading this letter, center yourself, and prepare any resources you may need to access after reading it. If you’d rather not read this letter, we encourage you to read a letter on a different topic.

If You’re Reading This, hang in there, my friend

Whether we’ve crossed paths or not, whether you’ve struggled with mental health or not, I know life ebbs and flows for all of us. We all carry things quietly. So if you take anything from this, I hope it’s this: stop being so hard on yourself, reach out to the people who care about you, and know I am rooting for you.

On the outside, people describe me as bubbly, outgoing person who’s always involved, always smiling, always “on.” A leader. A friend. A daughter. But what most people don’t see is that I don’t always see myself the way others see me.

I’ve struggled with body image and my relationship with food since I was 14 years old. It’s been over eight years, something I’ve probably spent thousands of hours thinking about - and as crazy as it is to say, most of the important people in my life have no idea. Behind the smile are thoughts that circle my mind:

Do my legs look big? Why do my arms look like that? How many calories are in that? Did I eat something ‘bad’ today? Should I skip my next meal? Why is it okay for them to eat that but not for me? How can I lose more weight? Will anyone love me if I’m not smaller? Why can’t I just be normal about food? What’s wrong with me?

For a long time, I kept all of this to myself. I didn’t want to “burden” anyone. I convinced myself it wasn’t a real problem, or that it was selfish to talk about. I didn’t want to admit that something so personal had so much power over me.

And honestly, with social media, it’s hard not to fall into these traps. Everything feels like a comparison. Everything looks perfect. You never see the 100 photos that were taken before the one that got posted. You never see the angles, the edits, the insecurities behind the confidence. Someone’s favorite part of you might be the thing you worry about most.

It wasn’t until someone close to me opened up about their own struggles that something in me softened. In that moment, I realized I wasn’t alone. Sharing didn’t expose me - it actually freed me. It gave me a place to breathe. It softened the load. It made everything a little less heavy.

And here’s the point I really want to make:
Healing starts when you stop holding everything by yourself.

If you’re reading this and any part of it feels familiar - the pressure, the comparison, the self-criticism, the quiet fear of not being “enough” -please know this:

You deserve to enjoy your food, not just on special occasions or when you’re in a group. You don’t have to earn help. You don’t have to shrink yourself to deserve love. You don’t have to struggle in silence like I did.
Reaching out doesn’t make you weak - it makes you human.

And the people around me, whether they knew it or not, played a huge role in my healing. A friend invited me to go grocery shopping and little did they know, I hadn’t stepped foot in a store in weeks. Another friend loves to host and cook and those random homemade dinners were the only real meals I was having. A friend asked if I wanted to get a bagel at Sadelle’s and little did they know, I would’ve never gone alone.

These may seem like small, ordinary moments. But they meant the world to me. Little by little, they helped me build strength and better habits. If you’re reading this, thank you for taking care of me when I couldn’t myself, even if you didn’t know you were doing it. Your small acts of kindness built the foundation of my healing journey.

Eating disorders are real. They are isolating. They can be built on guilt, shame, and the need for control. It can be hard to explain and sometimes even understand. But they are not more powerful than you. They do not get the final say.

I am better today than I was yesterday or last month and definitely the last few years. But I have a long way to go and I am certainly not the “picture perfect” recovery story, but what matters is that I’m getting to a better place than I was.

Even if it feels awkward or scary, please share with someone. Let people in, even if it’s just one person. Let the people who care about you show up for you in the ways you deserve. People love you and want to see you happy and healthy. And someone out there, maybe closer than you think is quietly rooting for you, just like I am.

You don’t have to have everything figured out today. You don’t have to heal all at once. Just start with one honest moment, one conversation, one small act of kindness toward yourself. Little steps count. Little steps add up.

I know one day I’ll look back and smile at how far I’ve come. I hope you’ll get to feel that too with whatever you’re facing. But for now, be kind to yourself. I’m really proud of you and I wish you the best.

Anonymous, Southern Methodist University

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