Having optionally chosen to be brought up in an athletics world, which I was introduced to and exceeded at to a modest level from a young age; combined with the ever growing pressure for everyone to look, eat and exercise a certain way and finally the anorexia my family had to devastatingly see my sister endure for some years; I almost could’ve been seen to have already be destined for such concerning relationships with food and exercise. It just only took until the beginning of 2015 where something had changed and there was something unconsciously spiraling out of control.
It would probably be borderline impossible for me to distinguish exactly what my trigger was and when that trigger was established (or even start to be established). Suffice to say, the dawning of 2015, was the pinnacle beginning to the downward spiral towards said issues with my weight and body image. I have regarded one or two potential causations, that I would hate to admit, is what ‘defeated’ me, but upon reflection, upon reflection and even more reflection into the past several years, only now can I say that I’d never consider my relationship towards these concerns to have ever been normal anyway (though some may say otherwise!) and the causation is long gone in the past.
I’d always hated my appearance and would constantly pick apart areas of my body that wasn’t good enough and desperately needed attention. I saw any part of fat on my body as negative yet equally complained when muscle would show. I always was and always have been, fighting an on-going, persistent, losing battle with myself that I will never be happy with my body.