Chasing Control
I never expected anorexia to become part of my life — but it did. It began after I entered a fitness challenge where results were measured by physical change. I placed second, but instead of feeling proud, I kept asking myself, Why not first?
What started as healthy eating slowly turned into rigid rules. I became fixated on counting calories and would spend hours in the supermarket reading nutrition labels, carefully deciding what I was “allowed” to purchase. At the time, it felt like control — but in reality, I was spiralling.
Over time, food and exercise consumed my thoughts. I weighed myself multiple times a day, convinced that reaching a certain number would finally make me feel good enough. I excessively exercised to the point where I’d run my body down. I began to associate hunger with discipline and clung to that feeling as a way to stay in control.
Looking back, a lot of it stemmed from how people made me feel in high school — like I didn’t matter, like I was worthless. That trauma caused me to rewrite my worth by controlling my body. But no matter how much weight I lost, it never gave me the validation I was looking for.
Eventually, as I began to feel my body shutting down, I realised I couldn’t keep going like this. I opened up to my parents and my workplace, slowly beginning to build a support network around me. That moment — the fear of what might happen if I didn’t change — became my turning point.
Eventually, I was placed on a structured eating plan, which was incredibly challenging. At first, I resisted — hiding food and struggling to let go of the control I thought I needed. But as the reality of my situation became clearer, the fear of losing my life outweighed the fear of recovery. I began to accept that this was a chapter I needed to go through in order to heal.
Recovery hasn’t been easy. It still isn’t. But today, I’m doing so much better. I’m nourishing my body, reconnecting with the things I love, and learning how to show myself kindness again. I wouldn’t be here without the love of my family and the ongoing support of my workmates — they genuinely saved my life, and I’m so grateful for them.
Looking back, I believed that being thin would make me happy. But in reality, it left me exhausted, miserable, and emotionally drained. I thought my worth was tied to my weight or whether I could fit into a certain size. But none of that truly matters. What matters is how good a person you are.
I’ve always wanted to share my story in the hope that it might help someone else. Recovery is possible. In the beginning, it feels impossible — but it’s not. Some days are still hard, but I’m learning to listen to my body instead of the voice that once tried to control me. I wake up each day and keep going — for my family, my work, and my future. This experience shaped me into a stronger person.
To anyone reading this: please don’t give up. You are not alone. You are strong. You are brave. And you are enough — exactly as you are. I’m still learning that every day, too.
