MileSplit Illinois is pleased to present a new series by former Galesburg High School standout and DePaul University student athlete Stephanie Saey (pronounced ‘say’). Stephanie suffered/suffers from an eating disorder that nearly destroyed her life. After taking a leave of absence from school and running she enrolled in counseling and now is on the way back up. Stephanie has an altruistic goal of sharing her experience with those out there who may be experiencing what she has and/or what she had been going through. Please take some time and absorb Stephanie’s sincere entry.
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“5:14!” My coach Jody Chapman shouted as she was running to give me a hug despite the sweat dripping across my back. It was the middle of February, and the crisp, bitter wind outside contrasted the heavy, humid air of the inside track arena at Monmouth College. I was finding it difficult to catch my breath, but I was beaming: 5:14. Not too shabby for my first race back.
It was my senior year, and after a phenomenal cross country season in which I had placed second in the 2A field (17:07- 3 miles), I had only run about five times in the three months after the IHSA State Meet until the Streaks Indoor Invitational at Monmouth in February. I was particularly pleased with a 5:14, considering my personal record from my junior season in the 1600m was a 5:08. It was shaping up to be an incredible year, if only I could keep my act together. I didn’t. A slave to my eating disorder, my body fat kept dropping and dropping until it reached a dangerous 4% and I could either choose to run the track season and risk having my heart give out or choose to sit on the sidelines and focus on health. The latter was mandated by my parents and doctors. At the time it seemed ludicrous and I was a complete mess. I had already missed out on training my sophomore and junior seasons due to my eating disorder; subsequently, a lot of regret had built up inside of me and I wanted a chance to redeem myself. I lamented over not being able to break the outdoor distance records and medal at state my senior year, but the decision saved my life for the first time that year.
I entered college under a spell. I was living the life I had dreamed of, but neglecting to acknowledge the monster right in front of me. I was flying high on the achievement of receiving a full scholarship to run for DePaul University in Chicago. The number of coaches who had recruited me, the letters, the visits, the negotiations, and the possibility of being a successful Division 1 athlete was exciting and made me feel famous. And I deserved to. I had worked hard for my academic and athletic accolades, and it was finally paying off.
But my eating disorder was winning. Despite the many people who congratulated me for my scholarship, walking across stage at graduation as valedictorian, and the thrill of moving to the big city of Chicago, at the end of the day I still wasn’t good enough in my mind. Such a thing as perfecting me on the outside was all that mattered. I was consumed with careful calculations, obsessive reviewing, set times, behaviors, sleep patterns, and productiveness. Everything had to be just so. Everything had to be on schedule. The things I could control were controlled. I was a robot. I was physically alive (barely) but my soul was not. At DePaul, I was not allowed to run until I was evaluated by a treatment facility in Chicago known as Insight. At first, the facility mandated a five pound weight gain to begin training. Five pounds is nothing. I gain that much after a binge. But then it was everything. I desperately wanted to gain the weight and run with my lovely teammates, but I couldn’t make myself do it.
I ate around 2500 calories a day, but it wasn’t enough for my fast metabolism and the amount of walking I was doing around campus. I wouldn’t let myself have any more. I wasn’t purposely starving myself, but I could not break my OCD regimens- same meals, same time, every day. No more, no less. After only a couple short months I was down another 10 pounds and looked like a walking skeleton. When my family came to visit, they cried upon seeing my gaunt face. I was an emotional wreck. Mondays through Fridays I went to therapy at Insight all day, exhausting myself with journaling, talking back to irrational thoughts, having group meals, and learning new coping mechanisms. On the weekends I would teach myself my classes and make up missed tests and quizzes. I was maintaining A’s despite being in Biology and Calculus III, but I was not learning the way I wanted to. I was not living the way I wanted to.
Slowly my thoughts got better and my mind seemed to overcome the grips of my eating disorder. I was gaining weight and feeling better, and for about a week in between what I like to refer to as “the transition,” I was actually acting like a normal person.
But here’s the thing folks: recovery is a long, difficult process that necessitates full participation and dedication. I was dedicated to recovering, but it was not my number one priority. Maintaining my grades and keeping my scholarship were all I cared about. I felt this is what people expected of me, and I put this before my health and before my life. It was then that “the transition” took place.
I can’t explain how my eating disorder switched. As I tell people, “it just did.” It’s a devious, conniving, monster and it fooled me. I thought I was getting better and overcoming my fears. After therapy I would go to the cafeteria at DePaul instead of going to bed and pig out on pizza, ice cream, fries, cookies, and other food that was offered late at night. I was so proud of myself and my new found love for food again. I was having no inhibitions. But little did I know that this new found “love” was the same old ED in disguise.
As the numbers on the scale went up, my Insight treatment team was at first delighted, but soon became concerned. The numbers were increasing at a rapid rate, and within only two weeks I had gained a solid 15 pounds. My obsessive thoughts were all still there. They were just different. Exact calculations were traded with fantasies of stuffing my face with all sorts of food. Then the fantasies became reality. I was uncontrollable and I loved it. The high was indescribable and for once in my life I felt relief from all of the stress and anxiety and pressure I had been placing on my shoulders for so long. When the last bite was taken and I couldn’t stomach any more, though, the high immediately diminished and I crashed HARD. I was confused, uncertain, worried, and unable to concentrate on anything. I became suicidal and this notion, as well as my rapid weight gain, was what led my Insight doctors, DePaul, and my parents to send me to my first treatment center in Colorado. My life was being saved for the second, and thankfully final, time this year.
My addiction to food became all I cared about as soon as I lost DePaul. I was burying the reality of it with 15,000-20,000 calories a day. I gave up on the idea of ever running again, and became determined to gain as much weight as I could to “punish myself” and outwardly portray the hurt inside of me. Unfortunately for my irrational brain, I have an EXTREMELY fast metabolism and while I did gain about 50 pounds over the last year that I have been bingeing, I still look fit. Friends and family congratulated me on “looking healthy,” which only validated my behaviors more.
Perhaps one of the most difficult consequences of my eating disorder to cope with, (after the loss of my full ride education, of course) is the effect the bingeing has done on my running. I haven’t run a race since that Monmouth meet. In fact, I did not resume regular running at all after February of 2013 until about August (2014), only to get injured after two weeks back. Friends, imagine not running for a year and a half while simultaneously losing about 15 pounds of muscle, then sitting on your butt for about 6.5 months straight and gaining 50 pounds of mostly fat tissue. Then one day getting up off the couch and deciding to run again only to find you can hardly run a mile in 10 minutes. It blows.
The most vital influence on my recovery has been my faith in God and my willingness to finally hand my life over to Him. I have always been a follower of Christ and a firm believer in His plan, but until this year I was unaware of how reluctant I was to give up control and let Him take the reins. Finding success easily and at such a young age instilled a mindset of “I can do anything” in me. This is a great mindset, and is definitely true, but it needed to be modified. “I can do anything THROUGH CHRIST WHO GIVES ME STRENGTH” (Philippians 4:13).
I am human. I have flaws. I am not perfect. I WILL face adversity, and sometimes it will completely turn my life upside down but that doesn’t mean I can’t move forward. Today, in this moment, I am rebuilding from scratch. It’s taken me awhile to lay down the first brick for the foundation of my future because I’ve been busy lamenting over my past. All of the binges, the pounds gained, the nights I lay in bed and contemplated suicide, all of the hurt was over losing what I thought was to be my path. DePaul. Running. Division 1. Chicago. Medals and accolades and honors and graduating in a big city. Things change. I could not control what happened to me. My eating disorder failed; Stephanie did not. My eating disorder is to blame for everything, and I did not choose to have an eating disorder. I DO choose recovery, though. I DO choose to live a life free of the demon that held me down for so long; a demon I was reluctant to release until I hit rock bottom. Things did not go the way I expected them to; but that does not mean they aren’t happening the way they are SUPPOSED to.
Currently, I am studying at a community college in my hometown and plan on transferring (finance-permitting) to Augustana College in the fall of 2015. I hope to run on a team one day again and am working to get back into running shape little by little. My relationship with running has been mentally exhausting to say the least - and I've definitely had to change my perspective and goals. As runners, everyone's story will be different, because we all go through different things. Some will be able to train nonstop and be great, some may train nonstop and never really hit a PR. Some may run faster than you in their first race ever....but it's all about what YOU can do based on YOUR circumstances and history. I can honestly say that I'm more proud of being able to run a 7 minute mile right now than I was running a 5 minute mile in high school because just months ago I would be labored going up the stairs. I'm thankful for the lengthy battle I've had to fight because I now know what it means to be truly appreciative of the "gift:" the gift of running, the gift of relationships, the gift of learning, and the gift of LIFE.
I look forward to blogging about my progress academically and athletically as well as advocating for eating disorder recovery and providing insight and advice based on the study of positive psychology for athletes. Happy reading!