I Used to Love Yogurt by Delia Rune (16, Texas)

[Content warning: eating disorders]

​I had been staring at the yogurt for over an hour. The bowl was filled to the brim and sat a few inches in front of me on my desk. It was taunting me. I could imagine closing my eyes and sliding a heaping spoonful of that thick, cool, creamy yogurt onto my tongue. I giddily anticipated the way it would melt away in my mouth, slip down my throat, and land into my empty waiting belly; my stomach growled in anticipation. 

But my arms were paralyzed. I couldn’t lift my hand and reach for the spoon. There was an angry voice in my head louder than the quiet pleading of my empty stomach. ​

---

“You haven’t earned food. If you eat now you’ll lose control. All of the effort you’ve put into resisting the temptation of food would have been for nothing.” It tried to convince me.

I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to look at the bowl anymore, tears welling up behind my eyes. The knot produced by a painful combination of fear and hunger was growing in my stomach. I was exhausted. I was tired of saying I wasn’t hungry when I was. I was drained from the near-constant screaming matches between all of the voices in my head. 

“If you want to be the best, you have to endure. You have to resist the temptation. Trust me. ” One voice tried to convince me.

“No, you have to eat, you will die if you don’t!” The other begged. 

I didn’t know who was telling the truth. I wanted to make everyone proud, I wanted to demonstrate my incredible self-control and determination. I wanted to do the right thing. I wanted to be perfect. But beyond all else, I wanted to be strong. And somehow, honoring my hunger felt like a weakness.

 I wasn’t sure what the “right thing” was anymore. 
​
The yogurt remained on the table, innocently, as tears crept out of my eyes. Why was this so hard?

A deep, instinctual part of me forced my fingers to inch towards the spoon. I clasped the cool metal in my hands. The voices in my head were screaming at the top of their lungs now, battling for control. One would insult me and the other would try to defend me, but it was no use. I was so confused by the competing voices that I didn’t know who to believe. All I knew was that one of them must be lying to me. 

“Don’t give in! If you eat now you’ll get fat. No one will like you. You’re worthless.” 

“Humans need food. You need to eat. One meal won’t affect you.” 

“You know it will. And you’re different from other people. You don’t need to give in like they do.”

“You’ll feel better if you eat. Just try one bite.”

Shakily, I dipped the spoon into the yogurt.

What would be harder for me, I wondered. Lifting up the spoon and eating my breakfast, or walking away from the table and skipping it for the hundredth time in a row? Which would make me stronger? That last piece of me that didn’t overthink every choice I made seemed to know the answer.

I raised the spoon to my lips and stared at it for a few moments, eyeing it like a threat. I didn’t want to eat it, but, at the same time, that was all I wanted. I didn’t feel like I deserved food, but, after months of starvation, wasn’t that the very thing I deserved? I didn’t think I was sick enough to be struggling this much or even to have a problem, but wasn’t the fact that I was struggling evidence that I did? The competing facts spun around in my head until I felt dizzy and sick to my stomach, and the only thing not spinning seemed to be the yogurt in front of my face. I looked at the clock. Had it really only been 1 minute since I picked up the spoon? I felt like I’d been holding it in front of my lips for hours. 

Tired of debating, I slid the spoon into my mouth.

It tasted like guilt and shame, and I felt like sobbing; I was overwhelmed with shame. How could I be so weak? I wasn’t sure if I had made the right choice. I didn’t know if what I was doing was defeat or bravery. And yet, a tiny piece of me smiled. For the first time in months, I felt like my life could look different, like maybe there was a way to quiet the angry voice in my head. 

​Maybe giving in could be strong. 

​