The Weight of Being Enough
I almost didn’t write this, if I’m being honest.
Not because I don’t believe these conversations matter, but because speaking candidly about eating disorders as a man still feels uncomfortable.
I still feel self-conscious talking about my lived experience. I worry about sounding ‘self-indulgent’ or being misunderstood. I worry I haven’t suffered ‘enough’ to speak about it, or that I haven’t ‘earned’ the right to. It eventually occurred to me—intermittently, I might add—that these are harmful social beliefs fuelled by stigma and shame.
It’s easier to ‘make light’ of the story—poke fun and deflect rather than be vulnerable. But I understand that openly sharing can help others feel less alone.
Trying to be ‘enough’
While thinking about my experience of an eating disorder, I was reading a play called ‘Doctor Faustus’ – and yes, bear with me here! It’s the story of a man who makes a deal in exchange for fulfilment, or rather, transcendence – believing that if he can just obtain enough, become enough, control enough, he’ll be able to be happy.
I don’t know about you, but it felt like I was reading verbatim from my inner monologue three years ago, and to an extent larger than I’d care to admit, even now. What stood out was this harmful belief that pain and hurt can be avoided if we transform who we are at the core. Many young blokes are quietly sold that lie. I know I was.
It shows up in who we watch on social media, which posts get the likes and comments, what gets passed around in the group chat, the song lyrics we memorise, and even the punchlines of ‘jokes’ we make just to fit in. We’re told that once we’re attractive enough, lean enough, rich enough, useful enough, strong enough, smart enough, then things will be different.
You start to believe that if you change your body to fit a certain ideal and restrict and exercise enough, you will finally stop hurting. You will finally be wanted. You will finally belong.
Eating disorders aren’t all about food.
A lot of discussion around eating disorders understandably focuses on food, weight, or appearance. But underneath many of these struggles is something else: the fear of rejection.
The fear that who you are, naturally and unedited, may not be enough to secure love, respect, or intimacy.
Sometimes it arrives quietly: in the feeling that everyone else received a manual for being a man that you somehow missed.
In watching other people move through relationships, parties, gyms, group chats, sex, confidence, and ambition, with a fluency that feels deeply foreign to you.
Researchers sometimes refer to this as ‘Masculine Gender Role Stress’ – the pressure blokes can feel when trying to meet expectations around masculinity, success, emotional control, physicality, and social status. Beyond scholarly speak, it’s this pressure to prove yourself, to not be ‘disposable’, to be useful and valuable in the world.
When belonging feels uncertain, people start searching desperately for stability and predictability in other ways – in achievements, work commitments, relationships, humour, and, for some of us, controlling our bodies – how we look and what we eat. That search can become a way of trying to prove we are enough.
But it’s not possible to escape the ordinary vulnerabilities of being a person – nor do we need to.
In my experience of an eating disorder, the goal posts just keep moving. The ‘relief’ never fully arrives. Instead, your world quietly narrows. You stop asking what makes you happy and start asking what makes you acceptable. Your body stops feeling like a home and starts feeling like a negotiation.
The cruel irony is that the harder you try to escape rejection through perfection, the more isolated you often become. Belonging cannot survive entirely on performance.
Eventually, people no longer know you, you don’t even know you – only the version of you trying desperately not to fail.
Too often, eating disorders in men are missed or overlooked.
Disordered eating and obsessive exercise behaviours in men are too often dismissed as ‘dedication’ or ‘control’ – traits that are praised within masculinity.
In my own experience, engaging in these behaviours initially felt comforting. Even virtuous. Discipline is rewarded socially, especially for us guys.
This is partly why these struggles can hide so easily, especially when male suffering learns to disguise itself as dedication.
It’s essential that eating disorder warning signs are noticed early in boys and men.
I think one thing I wish people had done was to look a little more closely. Not suspiciously, but with curiosity. Because so much of what was happening with me was hiding in plain sight. Losing weight. Not eating properly at recess. Coming home and finding ways to avoid meals there, too. The way restriction became routine before anyone seemed to name it as restriction.
I don’t think I was waiting for someone to fix it. I think I was waiting for someone to notice that my life was getting smaller around food, and to ask in a way that made it safe to answer honestly. When you are that deep in it, “I’m fine” can become less of a lie and more of a place you get stuck because you don’t know how to say anything else.
Recovery and reconnecting
I think that friendship and connection matter so much in recovery, particularly for men. We don’t need forced toughness or to hide behind a mask – we need real camaraderie.
The kind that’s built on hearing another person admit they’re frightened, exhausted or struggling, and not distancing yourself from them afterwards.
A lot of us are carrying pain we do not know how to describe except through self-improvement, withdrawal, overwork, compulsive exercise, or self-criticism. Not because men are emotionally shallow, but because many of us were taught how to perform capability long before we were taught how to survive vulnerability.
And I think many of us are tired. Tired of trying to transform. Tired of trying to earn rest, love, belonging, and, put simply, tired of trying to earn the right to feel comfortable inside our own bodies.
Real belonging begins when you push back against the idea that we need to ‘perform’ to be accepted, and that we need to fit within the confines of a narrow representation of masculinity. It begins with self-acceptance, connection and vulnerability.
About the Author
Written by Rahul Sethi, a peer worker at The Butterfly Foundation with a lived experience of an eating disorder and recovery. Rahul is passionate about challenging stigma, particularly around men’s experiences of eating disorders, and creating opportunities for honest conversations about wellbeing. He is also committed to improving access to support for communities that are frequently underrepresented in conversations about mental health and eating disorders.
Spot Your Mate
Eating disorders are one of Australia’s largest unrecognised men’s health issues – and we need to talk about it. For more resources, information and support for men and boys living with eating disorders or body dissatisfaction, visit www.butterfly.org.au/spotyourmate
Get Support
If you’re struggling with an eating disorder, disordered eating or body image concerns, please know that help is available. For confidential and free counselling, call the Butterfly National Helpline on 1800 ED HOPE (1800 33 4673) or chat online or email, 7 days a week, 8am-midnight (AEST/AEDT).
