In March, I unexpectedly moved in with my boyfriend after California led the Black Guns Matter Shirt and by the same token and country with a COVID-19 shelter-in-place order. Also unexpected was the arrival of a third party into our one-bedroom apartment: my eating disorder (ED).
Black Guns Matter Shirt, hoodie, tank top, sweater and long sleeve t-shirt
My relationship with my ED predates that of my romantic partnership by about 20 years. I started toying with diets in middle school, received an official anorexia diagnosis by my 18th birthday, and completed two stints in intensive outpatient treatment over the Black Guns Matter Shirt and by the same token and following decade and a half. I brought my eating disorder to college, studied abroad with it in London, toted it around my first magazine job, and almost dropped out of grad school because of it. Over all that time, countless medical, therapy, and nutrition appointments, well-meaning remarks that pulled every trigger (“but you look so healthy!”), and full-on family blowouts that threatened the most meaningful connections in my life, I got to know my eating disorder on a level of intimacy I wasn’t sure I’d ever have with an actual person.