Essay Link Copied 10.11.24

How Coming Out Changed My Relationship With My Body

TikTok creator and host of the Made It Out podcast Mal Glowenke explains the ripple effect of being true to herself. ByMal Glowenke

I’ve known since I was very little that I take zero interest in boys. I always married the girls during our neighborhood play pretend wedding ceremonies, and it wasn’t until I moved to Texas in the second grade that I started to feel like that was wrong.

My gayness, an affront to the heteronormative, Christian lifestyle in the sheltered Texas suburbia I grew up in, never had a fighting chance. I couldn’t even consider what I thought my sexual identity to be before survival instinct unconsciously took over. In a culture that didn’t embrace individuality, conformity became my hard wiring. 

I wondered, If who I am isn’t correct, then what is? I desperately searched outside myself to find my identity. What I discovered was the perfect storm of “traditional family values” and ’90s diet culture. It became obvious to me that the person I should become was a pretty, skinny blonde who married an average man and became a mother by 25. 

In hindsight it’s easy to see how I allowed my childhood bubble to influence my whole identity. It grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me to turn my back on the beautiful, wide open, rainbow road I was destined to be cruising down.

Unfortunately, denying my queerness led to a cascade of self-suppression and self-destruction—and my body bore the brunt of it.

Fighting my identity

As I set out to become that perfect straight woman, actively denying who I really was created endless internal conflict. That struggle, fueled by an environment focused on diet and exercise, led to what I now understand as binge eating disorder.

Around the age of 15, I was trapped in a vicious cycle with food, desperate for something to control. I’d go to the drive through, order enough to justify my last “bad” meal, and vow to count every calorie from then on. I’d restrict myself to certain foods for weeks before breaking down. That turned into another binge and the cycle would begin again. 

In an attempt to break the pattern, I turned to amphetamines and became enamored with the pills that helped me restrict. Over time, I developed a dependence that would last well into my twenties. 

In my late teens and early twenties, I leaned deeper into the promise that happiness would come after I had the perfect body, a man, and a white picket fence. While I was still obsessed with becoming smaller, I started to orient my appearance to the male gaze. Studying what turned a man on or away became my obsession. I was sure that once I looked the way straight men wanted to see me, everything would be fixed. I would never have to deal with my feelings toward women or feel unsatisfied with my life.

Of course, my preoccupation with appeasing the male gaze just encouraged more dissatisfaction with my appearance. By 23, I began taking more drastic measures, ushering in my elective surgery era. One quick google search had me booking a breast augmentation.

I arrived on the day of surgery to meet the doctor for the first time (do not do this) and chose an implant size moments before going under. I went into surgery as a B cup and woke up a DDD. The perceived ease at which this changed my body and people’s view of it had me craving more. It wasn’t long before I received liposuction on almost every major area of my body and underwent a Brazilian Butt Lift. 

I dressed my new body in tight dresses and high heels and chased man after man. I hoped they’d be the one to complete the misguided picture I’d attempted to paint for years. 

At that time, I never considered that being a lesbian was an option. Despite the fact that I kissed girls in bars, fantasized about them, and even secretly met up with other curious women from the internet to experiment with, I still bought into the promise of heteronormativity. 

Hitting my breaking point

Around the age of 25, my body began signaling a misalignment, manifesting symptoms that demanded attention no matter how long I ran from them. When I tried to ignore or silence them, they only got louder. The surgeries were catching up to me, causing numbness all over my body and complete loss of sensation in my nipples, and the pressure from my implants began to impact my breathing. 

My mental health was also in decline. My relationship to food was worse than it had ever been before. And I found myself scrolling through dating apps for countless hours, matching and chatting with men for small hits of validation. 

My dad has instilled in me that when something isn’t working, you need to make a change. The shift can be big or small, but the goal is “pattern interruption,” as he calls it. So, at 25, I decided it was time to pack up my entire life and move to Los Angeles on what most would call a whim. 

Within weeks of being in my new city, I learned that there’s something undeniably liberating about starting anew in a place where you’re a complete stranger. It felt like shedding my skin, leaving the baggage of the past behind and stepping into a world of possibility. I got the sense that this was a unique opportunity to become the person I’ve always wanted to be. 

The first thing I did upon settling in LA was add women as an option to my dating apps. I hoped to find another secret hookup, but I wound up on a seven-hour date with a lesbian. That night, I felt more seen and understood than I had my entire life. Being around someone who identified as an out lesbian made me realize that it was a real possibility for me. It was the first time I even considered it.

This is what I now refer to as my “gay panic” moment. I was shocked to realize there was no turning back. I am gay, and I always have been. 

Even though this moment brought so much relief and excitement for the future it also brought the fear of leaving everything I had ever thought to be right behind. This was the beginning of an unraveling.   

Making amends with my body

Being able to enjoy sex with a woman openly and freely was daunting after hiding my desires for 27 years. Surrendering to something that was labeled wrong or shameful by the heteronormative, conservative, relgious community I was raised in went against my instincts. But once I gave in, that was it. 

Part of that was because sex finally made sense to me. After years of listening to women talk about it and never relating to a word, I finally understood. When I slept with a woman, I felt real pleasure for the first time. It was uninhibited and guilt-free pleasure. 

That experience opened me up to a world of possibility. What else had I been denying myself based on other people’s expectations and religious standards I never agreed with? 

Coming out and living authentically gave me a deeper understanding of just how much I’d done to my body out of obligation and validation seeking. I was so caught up in pleasing others and attempting to meet their criteria, I never felt the agency to say no to them or yes to myself. Instead of giving my body what it wanted or needed, I chased an idealized, hetero version of me that made everyone else happy. 

That self-sacrifice made it easy for my disordered eating to take over. It also made impulsively altering my body with surgical procedures a no-brainer. Conformity trumped authenticity at every turn. 

But, ultimately, embracing my sexuality was the catalyst to radically accepting every part of myself. It quieted the noise telling me to change, making it easier to hear my own desires. That gave me the clarity to finally address my disordered eating and find internal sources of self-worth.

I started by mourning how I’d treated my body up to this point. I sat with my anger, sorrow, and regret and gained a deeper understanding of what parts of myself were truly important to me. Turns out, being pretty, blonde, and skinny weren’t actually at the top of my list. 

Letting go of those standards helped loosen my need for control over what I ate. Before I came out, I thought having the perfect body (and a man and suburban Texas life) would lead to happiness. But when I let that idea go, my mindset shifted. I didn’t feel compelled to punish my body in the pursuit of an ideal I no longer subscribed to. While it wasn’t an instant fix for my disordered eating, it kicked off a healing process that eventually led me to talk to my therapist about my relationship with food and my body.

I also underwent explant surgery two years after coming out. It became obvious that the alterations I made to my body were the last piece of my straight identity I needed to shed to fully move on. Afterward, a literal and figurative weight was lifted off of my chest. 

Coming out has been the single most profound thing I have ever experienced. It has helped me restore my relationship to myself, teaching me to rely on my inner knowing and forgive my missteps. Overall, being true to myself has forced me out of deep neglect and disconnection into a life centered on self-love. 

But queer people aren’t the only ones who can come back home to themselves. I encourage anyone to think about what aspects of yourself you’ve been denying or neglecting. When you’re ready, lean into the parts you’ve been trying to hide from. Own them, embrace them in broad daylight, shout them from the rooftops. Find your own rainbow road and take the next exit onto it.

The post How Coming Out Changed My Relationship With My Body appeared first on Wondermind.

Stories Link Copied 08.20.24

5 Things Not to Say to Someone In Eating Disorder Recovery

Some compliments really don't hit the way you think they will. ByNurse Sydney

After struggling for years with disordered eating and anxiety, I was officially diagnosed with an eating disorder at 16 years old. It wasn’t something I talked about, but despite keeping my diagnosis to myself, I couldn’t seem to avoid comments about my body and my eating habits from the people around me. And, I get it, food is an essential part of our existence and a frequent topic of conversation. We also happen to live in a society that spends a lot of time commenting on people’s bodies.

But, when I reflect on my eating disorder recovery, I can recall the helpful, kind words as well as the not-so-helpful (and sometimes even harmful) comments. Even when these comments are well-intentioned, they can negatively impact someone trying to heal their relationship with food and their bodies. 

Of course, everyone’s experience with eating disorders is different, and what might be helpful to one person can actually be harmful to another. So, if you’re wondering how to be there for someone in your life who has struggled or is struggling with an eating disorder, the best first step is checking in with them. In the meantime, here are a few things I wouldn’t suggest saying to someone in eating disorder recovery, plus what to say instead. 

1. “I wish I could be as strict as you are with my diet.” 

Throughout my eating disorder recovery, so many of my friends and family commented on how much they envied my ability to be so strict with my eating habits. As diet culture and striving for a specific body type has become so normalized in our society, comments like this are usually meant as a compliment. But the only thing this is actually complimenting is the eating disorder. Statements like this allow it to continue to grow and grasp on even tighter. It gives the eating disorder permission to continue as it becomes something that other people envy. 

What my friends and family didn’t realize was that my diet was the only thing I could think about. It took over my life entirely, to the point where I couldn’t even maintain my presence at school or show up to social gatherings. Having an eating disorder is not an act of willpower or self-control—it is in fact the complete opposite and a very dangerous path for someone to envy. 

Instead, compliment someone for things unrelated to appearance—like their sense of style, their laugh, or the way they make you feel. And, in general, just go ahead and steer clear of comments about anyone’s eating habits (even if they don’t have a history of disordered eating). Instead, talk about somewhere you would like to go to lunch together or a new recipe you’ve been meaning to try, without the focus on diet culture or restriction. 

2. “But you don’t look like you have/had an eating disorder…”

A comment like this one usually comes from a good place, like they’re trying to say, “But you don’t look sick!” What many people don’t understand is that eating disorders don’t have one specific “look” or body type. For starters, there are several different types of eating disorders, so the range of signs and symptoms will depend on which type you’re dealing with. That said, it’s also possible for an eating disorder to be completely invisible to the people around you. I struggled for years with my eating disorder before showing signs and symptoms that made me “sick enough” for even health care professionals to take me seriously and to qualify for hospitalization. 

Commenting on someone’s appearance is rarely ever helpful—especially for those in eating disorder recovery—as it can amplify someone’s focus on their body or what they want to change about it. If your intention is to express that you had no idea they were navigating an eating disorder, try leaning into empathy instead, like: “I didn’t realize you were dealing with all of this. Is there anything I can do to help?” 

3. “Why can’t you just eat?”

Oh how I wish it was this simple. And if it was that simple, anorexia nervosa wouldn’t have one of the highest mortality rates of all mental health conditions. Having an eating disorder is far more complex than simply “just eating.” It involves hunger cues, your history with food, how you grew up eating, your current relationship with food, and even your mental state. A statement like this can be very invalidating to someone in eating disorder recovery because it makes them feel as if they are incapable of doing even the simplest thing—like eating.

If you notice your loved one struggling to eat, instead of commenting on how simple it is to “just eat,” sit down with them and offer your support through demonstration. Something I found very helpful was watching my friends and family eat with me. Being able to visualize how everyone around me was able to eat the meal helped my brain to recognize that it was going to be OK. Sometimes the best thing to say in situations like this is nothing at all. Simply being there for your loved one can speak volumes, especially while demonstrating a healthy relationship with food. 

4. “Why aren’t you hungry?”

Hunger cues are something that you become very aware of in eating disorder recovery. They take time to build and understand, especially if you’ve been ignoring them for some time. I always felt guilty for not being hungry when someone pointed it out. I wanted to be hungry—I really did! But years of restriction and other eating disorder behaviors confused my body and my hunger cues. Throughout most of my eating disorder recovery, I had to eat even though I was not hungry at all. So, when someone asked why I wasn’t hungry, it was difficult to explain and usually led to embarrassment, envy, and an intense desire to feel the hunger cues that other people seemed to have. 

Even though comments like this might just come from a place of curiosity, they point out how different someone with an eating disorder is and how far they still have to work. For me, it can set off a spiral of anxious thoughts, like: Should I be hungry? Did I eat too much at breakfast? Maybe I shouldn’t eat as much at my next meal… 

So, the next time you’re trying to plan when to eat with a friend, keep the conversation on you and your own hunger cues instead of questioning theirs (for instance, “I’m starting to get hungry so I’m going to find somewhere to get lunch. Do you want to come?”). Neutral comments around eating like this can actually provide a healthy example of a typical eating pattern, which may ultimately help someone in eating disorder recovery to visualize where they need to be. 

5. Literally any nutrition advice. 

Unsolicited nutrition advice is very common in our society, especially with the mountain of information available to us online. But even when you have the best intentions, comments like these can be very triggering to someone in eating disorder recovery. 

For starters, there’s no one dietary plan that works for everyone, so unless you are a registered dietitian and this is your client, it’s best to keep your advice to yourself. Even a casual comment about needing to avoid gluten or prioritize protein can be triggering for people with a history of disordered eating, since any food rules or restrictions can be a slippery slope for us. These discussions of dietary rules can trick us into thinking we might need to change our diet again, and that can lead us down a dangerous path of restriction and ultimately relapse. 

So, leave the nutrition suggestions up to their health care providers and no one else. Even if a particular diet gives you more energy or less bloat, be mindful that every body is different, and some people are more triggered by food discussions than others. And if someone in eating disorder recovery is opening up to you about their physical or mental struggles, it’s best to guide them to follow up with their health care providers instead of telling them about the latest nutrition advice you saw on social media. 

The post 5 Things Not to Say to Someone In Eating Disorder Recovery appeared first on Wondermind.

Essay Link Copied 06.14.24

I’m a Personal Trainer With Millions of Followers and No One Knew I Was Struggling With Disordered Eating

Not even me. ByKelsey Wells

The first thing I became self-conscious of was cellulite. The fact that I hardly had any didn’t matter. That’s the thing about body image or disordered eating struggles—it often has very little to do with what you look like and everything to do with the amount of mental space it takes up. 

That was how my body-related negative self-talk started, but intrusive thoughts about food and my body followed me for most of my adult life. From my college dorm days to my career as a fitness content creator and trainer, scrutinizing my appearance became my default. While the severity ebbed and flowed, the disordered ideas and habits often came back.

After speaking to a therapist and doing my own research, I’ve learned that I was struggling with various forms of disordered eating since freshman year of college. At times, that merged into an actual eating disorder as distorted ideas about my body and food consumed most of my waking thoughts. 

Whether you’re dealing with the same thing or know someone who is, hearing from others who’ve been there might help you feel more hopeful or less alone. With that in mind, here are some of the surprising truths I discovered along this journey and what they taught me about mental health, healing, and my relationship to my body. 

Diet culture is a bitch.

We aren’t born into this life hating our bodies or feeling like we’re not enough. Self-loathing is learned. Growing up, I felt free and confident in my body. I never thought about what I put in my mouth until I overheard some girls criticizing me before a high school dance. 

After that, I became hyper-aware of what I looked like and wanted to become a smaller version of myself. But it wasn’t until college that I acted on those thoughts. Freshman year, there were a ton of changes happening in my life—positive changes like my sister getting engaged, moving out on my own, starting college, and falling madly in love for the first time—but my body couldn’t tell the difference between good and bad changes. It just felt stressed.  

That stress impacted my appetite. I felt sick when I didn’t eat and even worse when I did. After months of this, I lost a significant amount of weight and my parents asked me to see a doctor. I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. That anxiety was what caused my stomach to produce extra acid and triggered severe irritable bowel syndrome. 

When I became smaller, people started commenting, which made me feel good. So, not long after getting a prescription for medicine that made my stomach feel better, I quit taking it. That was the first time I chose disordered eating over my health. 

Commentary on how I looked seriously influenced how I thought about my body, but I can’t completely blame my bullies or friends for the things they said. They were also victims of diet culture and a societal norm that made it OK to judge my body—and their own. We were all under the same influence of restriction. We thought it was normal to hate the way we looked and to be preoccupied with trying to change it.

At that point, I didn’t know these thoughts and obsessions with my body were symptoms of actual mental health issues—conditions that I didn’t realize I was likely dealing with until more than a decade later. They were also exacerbated by a culture that makes money when we hate ourselves. If I truly understood that, maybe I wouldn’t have gone so far down this path—or started down it in the first place. 

A need for control fueled my disordered eating.

While diet culture and bullying triggered me to fixate on my size, my disordered behaviors were also propelled by feeling out of control. 

As a kid, I experienced various forms of scrupulosity, or what the American Psychological Association describes as, “an obsession with moral or religious issues (e.g., a preoccupation that one may commit a sin and go to hell) that results in compulsive moral or religious observance and that is highly distressing.” It’s also associated with obsessive-compulsive personality disorder and obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), both of which can involve perfectionism. I was never diagnosed with OCD or scrupulosity as a kid, probably because in my Mormon church I was counseled that my struggles stemmed from Satan attempting to influence my mind. To fight back, I was encouraged to stay righteous and memorize more scriptures. 

My intense fears and rigid habits affected me to various degrees throughout my adolescence. But after graduating high school, I met my then-boyfriend (now husband) Ryan, and my mental health flourished. Unfortunately, when he left to serve a two-year mission in Mexico on behalf of the Mormon church, the stress and loneliness triggered those symptoms I hadn’t dealt with in years. 

This time, my scrupulosity reached a new high and intersected with my disordered eating. In addition to engaging in intense daily rituals and constant praying like I did when I was little, I tried to prove my worthiness to God by controlling what I ate. I believed that using discipline to control my eating kept Ryan safe and secured our eternal salvation. 

While that might sound like a super specific trigger for disordered eating, researchers agree that a need for control is one of many factors that can contribute to eating disorders.

Disordered eating thrives in isolation. 

As my scrupulosity ramped up and I attempted to control it with prayer and religious perfectionism, I became extremely isolated. Though I was living in a tiny space with six roommates, I never felt or spent more time alone than the two years Ryan was gone.

I spent the majority of my days afraid of evil or consumed by thoughts of becoming smaller. It was like living with a weight on my chest that threatened to bury me. I never reached out for mental health help because I genuinely didn’t think I needed it. If I was super depressed for days or had a panic attack, I turned to the church and asked for a blessing.

Meanwhile, my roommates put “motivational” quotes on the fridge and in the cabinets, using diet culture rhetoric to justify restrictive diets. So no one really seemed to notice that I was channeling my obsessive energy into dieting. And I didn’t reach out to my roommates, friends, or family for support either. Instead, I smiled. I served the church obsessively. 

Thankfully, when Ryan got back from his mission, my mission to please God felt complete. I didn’t feel the need for extreme restriction anymore. Six weeks after he came home, we were married in the temple. We spent so much time together. I felt supported, seen, and safe for the first time in years. 

Out of isolation (and away from people who saw my behavior as normal), my disordered eating and scrupulosity symptoms started to subside. I still compared my looks to others, used exercise to punish my body, and sometimes skipped meals when Ryan wasn’t around, but the rituals of perfectionism didn’t consume me like they used to.

Healing isn’t linear.

The three and a half years after I got married were the healthiest of my adult life up to that point, but when I got pregnant unexpectedly things changed. I was terrified of gaining weight, so I ate as healthy as possible for a few weeks before realizing it wasn’t sustainable. Gaining weight was inevitable, so I set it aside as a problem for future me. Still, I felt a lot of shame around eating in a way most people would call normal.

After having my son, I was so distracted by my perceived flaws that I missed the miracle of growing life in my body. I remember catching a glance of myself naked in the mirror and seeing my greatest fear; I couldn’t recognize myself. Bonus: I was slipping into severe postpartum anxiety, bringing me to a new mental low.

At my six-week postpartum checkup, I filled out a mental health questionnaire. I tried to answer the questions in a way that made it seem like I was doing great, but my doctor caught on. I started sobbing and she recommended I find a therapist or psychiatrist or both to help, but I refused. I was still a devout Mormon and thought I should be able to pray my symptoms away. I asked for other options and my doctor suggested I try exercising to ease the anxiety. If that didn’t work by my next appointment, we’d have to try something else. 

That was the very first time I started exercising in an effort to help myself heal instead of out of hate for my body. I started by simply pushing my son around the block in his stroller each day. I was surprised how quickly I started to feel better. My days felt manageable.

The next time I met with my doctor, she said she recognized a positive change in me, and that motivated me to keep going. 

Exercise alone isn’t enough. 

Eventually those mental health walks turned into strength training, and I started working toward physical accomplishments that had nothing to do with what I looked like. I wanted to heal my physical body and I wanted to be strong. I noticed my anxiety continued to subside and the negative thoughts about my body became less intense. Yes, I was losing weight too, and, yes, exercise can be part of disordered eating or eating disorders. But during this part of my life, physical transformation and mental transformation happened in parallel.

To be fair, I can’t say whether I would have felt the same if my body never changed postpartum. There’s no way for me to know that. What I do know is that I was way smaller in college and never had the confidence or sense of self-love that I did just months after giving birth. This was the first time I understood that the motive for movement matters the most.

But that’s not to say that exercise magically healed my disordered eating. I was doing the mental and emotional work too. After I started moving my body for the sake of my mental health, I realized I deserved to speak to and view myself kindly. I began by spending time just looking at myself naked in the mirror while repeating positive affirmations. 

I also fought back against negative self-talk. Ryan wanted to support me on my journey and suggested that if I said something negative about myself, I could follow it up with three positive things. I was hesitant but agreed and was amazed by how much it helped. The more it worked, the more I wanted to keep it up. I was slowly building my mental health toolkit.

Right after my son turned 1, I discovered the Mormon church was not what I thought it was, and I suffered an extreme loss of identity. This remains the most excruciating and informative period of my life. 

While I was struggling deeply, the small habits I’d implemented in the last year became my saving grace. Exercising for empowerment and positive self-talk felt like a tether back to myself.

Also, I claimed the freedom to express my body differently in clothes that would’ve been frowned upon (to put it extremely kindly) in the Mormon community. I felt ownership over my body, unashamed, and empowered in ways I’d never felt before. 

Even though I was going through hell in other ways, my disordered eating and distorted body image were healthier than ever.

You really never know what someone else is going through. 

During my faith transition, I started a fitness Instagram account. I was desperate to find a safe space to show up as myself and connect with like-minded women who wouldn’t judge me based on my religious background.

I was more vulnerable and open than I ever thought I would be. I talked about exercising for empowerment and how it changed my life for the better. I wanted to be the voice that I didn’t have postpartum. It became a creative outlet where I could be my authentic self. 

Soon after, I became a certified personal trainer. Over the next few years, the account grew to hundreds of thousands and then millions of followers and—along the way—I signed with Sweat to bring my fitness programs to life on the Sweat app. I felt amazing and wanted to help people see that working out can be great for our mental health. 

But once I became a fitness professional and my platforms continued to grow, I started putting too much pressure on myself. The disordered thoughts started creeping in: Who the fuck was I to be a trainer with such a large platform if I’m not in peak shape? If I don’t look exceptionally fit, women won’t trust me and the industry won’t respect me. 

It didn’t help that control had always been one of my biggest coping mechanisms, and I was under a lot of pressure. I had this big new career and I didn’t want to let anyone down. I didn’t see it at the time, but in hindsight some of the very tools that I used to fortify my physical and mental health (like eating healthy and exercising regularly) I began taking to an extreme.

Self-awareness and self-acceptance were the missing pieces.

When I got really sick with Covid in October of 2020, I had an epiphany. I came across a picture of myself from a big photo shoot in 2018, and memories flooded my mind. The version of me in that photo was so hard on herself and did not see herself clearly. I realized my extreme discipline had morphed into a new form of disordered eating.

Lying in bed with my phone, I broke down. I was overcome with sadness. My platform was built on self-love and using exercise for empowerment—in that moment I felt like a hypocrite.

With this new awareness, I was able to accept that I was struggling again. That enabled me to consciously bring my mental and emotional health back to the forefront. 

I refocused on the positive habits I learned postpartum, like meditating, gratitude journaling, writing poetry, and (most importantly) exercising with positive intent. I leaned on my husband instead of isolating. My mental health toolkit also grew to include talking to a coach, learning breathwork techniques, and energy healing.

There are still days I wake up picking myself apart, but those are the exception instead of the norm. Rather than focusing on how I look and how often I exercise, I now pour my discipline into living a present and authentic life. This mindset requires that my mental health always comes first. 

For a long time I felt shame around these parts of my story, but now I’m proud of every past version of myself. Looking back, I feel an abundance of gratitude for every part of my journey because it brought me here today. Whether you relate or your struggles look different, you always have the power to change your life for the better through self-awareness, self-acceptance, and intentional action (aka self-love).

The post I’m a Personal Trainer With Millions of Followers and No One Knew I Was Struggling With Disordered Eating appeared first on Wondermind.

Explainer Link Copied 01.22.24

What’s the Deal With Orthorexia?

It isn’t in the DSM, but it can wreck your life. BySam Brodsky

Trying to eat healthier—whatever the fuck that  means—is a thing a lot of us can probably relate to. But there’s a big difference between attempting to get more green stuff into your fridge and obsessing over things like nutrients, pesticides, ingredients with long names, or other alleged indicators that your food is or isn’t good for you. And if the latter becomes a way of life that interferes with how you function, that could be a sign of orthorexia nervosa—or orthorexia for short.

You might’ve seen people talk about orthorexia on your FYP (the TikTok tag has over 40 million views), but the term’s been around since ‘97. It definitely sounds like a type of anorexia—and some experts think it could be—but, right now, it’s not an official disorder in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5-TR). That means it’s not ~technically~ a diagnosable mental health condition. 

Still, the experts we spoke to stress that it’s very much a thing people struggle with and mental health pros recognize—it’s also worth seeking help for. Ahead, we explain what orthorexia is, what it looks like, and how to get support.

One quick thing before we dive into the details: Mental health is complex and everyone has a unique experience, so don’t go diagnosing yourself just because you read a few articles on the internet (though, we do appreciate you stopping by to learn a few things). If this resonates with you, consider it a jumping-off point in your journey to getting care. OK, let’s get into it…

What is orthorexia?

When healthy eating becomes a person’s whole life and/or negatively impacts the other stuff they’ve got going on, that behavior could fall into orthorexia territory.

Like we said, there’s no official list of orthorexia symptoms right now, and the issue can look different depending on the person. That said, orthorexia is “an obsessive concern with eating a healthy or ‘pure’ diet that is typically very restrictive,” per the American Psychological Association. 

Unlike the eating disorders you might be more familiar with, people with orthorexia symptoms aren’t necessarily trying to make their bodies smaller, says psychologist Christine Peat, PhD, a fellow in the Academy for Eating Disorders and director of the National Center of Excellence for Eating Disorders. Instead, they’re worried about how healthy their food is, she says.

While that all sounds pretty specific, it’s unclear whether orthorexia is its own eating disorder or a type of existing one, like anorexia nervosa. Most of the time, people with orthorexia are diagnosed with an eating disorder called other specified feeding and eating disorder (OSFED), says clinical psychologist Thom Dunn, PhD, a professor of psychological sciences at University of Northern Colorado who researches orthorexia. That basically means they’re showing signs of an eating disorder but don’t meet all  the criteria for any of the conditions listed in the DSM-5-TR. 

Because of its (lack of) DSM-5-TR  status, we also don’t know quite how common orthorexia is. So, even though the definition can sound a lot like your friend who’s obsessed with being a vegan (good for you, friend!), Dr. Dunn says orthorexia is relatively rare. In his experience, he’s seen less than five cases of it in a clinical setting.

What causes orthorexia is just as murky. Dr. Dunn literally called the scientific research on it “messy.” But Dr. Peat says diet culture could definitely be a factor. One study that surveyed 680 women who follow health food Instagram accounts suggested that using the app more was associated with more symptoms of orthorexia. 

How can I tell if I have orthorexia? 

With all of that gray area, it makes sense if you’re left thinking, “Um, so do I have this or not?” And while, yeah, orthorexia is not uber common, there are a few symptoms that might be worth looking into. 

The first one: You feel incredibly guilty or anxious for eating something you deem dirty or unhealthy, says Dr. Peat. People with orthorexia might convince themselves that they did a horrible thing to their bodies after munching on an Oreo even though, in reality, there’s no real damage done, she explains. 

Another thing to look out for is an all-consuming obsession with healthy eating. Dr. Peat says this could look like spending hours planning meals or Googling info about different diets and food online.  

Because of that fixation, your social life could tank, says Dr. Peat. Going out to eat with friends or attending a party can be torture when nothing on the menu fits your standards. It could even make you want to isolate yourself at home to have more control over what you eat. Any of that can cause some weirdness in your relationships, she notes. 

Orthorexia can wreck work too—you might not be able to concentrate on a performance review with your boss because you’re too busy worrying about what you ate the night before. “It’s sort of like, how do you get your work done when 75% of your mental real estate is focused on what you eat?” Dr. Peat says. 

Finally, your health could be at risk. It’s possible that cutting out certain food groups in the name of health ultimately leads to malnourishment, both experts say. 

How is orthorexia treated?

There isn’t a specific treatment for people with orthorexia, according to the National Eating Disorder Association. But, like with a lot of eating disorders, people who show signs of orthorexia would benefit from working with a team of pros, says Dr. Peat. A therapist can help you get unstuck from rigid thought patterns around food, while psychiatrists can prescribe meds for anxiety or depression that might be tagging along with orthorexia, she explains. Plus, a dietitian can help introduce a balanced diet and explain why it’s OK to eat carbs and fats and processed foods. Of course, you could also see a doctor to address any medical issues stemming from orthorexia, Dr. Peat adds. 

It’s worth noting that some people might also need to go to an inpatient facility if they’re super malnourished, but it depends on how severe their orthorexia symptoms are, says Dr. Peat. 

In the end, if you’re concerned about your relationship with food, whether you think you have orthorexia or not, it’s worth reaching out for help, notes Dr. Peat. “Being connected to care may help you get back to a place where you feel more balanced—where food is a part of your life, but maybe not the whole thing.”

The post What’s the Deal With Orthorexia? appeared first on Wondermind.

Explainer Link Copied 10.20.23

ARFID Isn’t Just Picky Eating—Let’s Talk About It

What you need to know about this lesser known eating disorder. BySam Brodsky

We all know someone (or maybe…are someone) who seems to survive mostly on “picky eater staples” like chicken nuggets and buttered noodles. And, listen, we’re not here to judge the person who turns down oysters because the texture freaks them out. Food preferences are deeply personal and influenced by many different things. But when eating habits become so limited that they end up causing medical issues or interfering with your life, that can be a sign of avoidant/restrictive food intake disorder (ARFID for short). 

If you’ve seen videos on your FYP about this eating disorder—a topic which has a cool 70 million views on TikTok—you might be wondering where the line is between picky eating and a diagnosable eating disorder. We can help with that. 

Here, check out what ARFID is, what might cause it, and how people with this eating disorder can get help for their symptoms—because it is  treatable.

One quick thing before we dive into the details: Mental health is complex and everyone has a unique experience, so don’t go diagnosing yourself just because you read a few articles on the internet (though, we do appreciate you stopping by to learn a few things). If this resonates with you, consider it a jumping-off point in your journey to getting care. OK, let’s get into it…

What is ARFID? 

ARFID is an eating disorder where someone limits the amount of food or types of food they eat so much that it impacts their health or how they act around other people, says psychologist and certified eating disorder specialist Lauren Muhlheim, PsyD. More specifically, one or more of the following happens: They lose a ton of weight (or, in kids, they’re lower weight or smaller than what’s considered normal); they have nutrition deficiencies; they have to use a feeding tube or supplements; and/or this causes them to miss out on things like school, work, or social situations, according to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5-TR).

Here’s the thing: People with ARFID don’t restrict what they eat because they’re being stubborn or difficult, says Dr. Muhlheim, who has treated ARFID for many years and runs an ARFID adult support group. Instead, there’s a deeper and pervasive reason that holds them back from eating certain foods, whether it’s an aversion to certain tastes, colors, smells, or textures; a total lack of interest in eating; and/or a fear of what might happen if they eat (they could choke, get sick, etc.), per the DSM-5-TR.

For someone without ARFID, it can be hard to imagine how this fear or aversion to certain foods can mess with your life on such a significant scale. If that’s you, think about what it would be like if someone asked you to eat something that isn’t food (like…a stinky old sponge). The disgust is usually like that, explains Dr. Muhlheim. You might be so grossed out that you gag or throw up, which is how someone with ARFID can react to foods that they have a fear or aversion to, says psychologist and Harvard Medical School associate professor of psychology Kamryn Eddy, PhD.

Now, imagine that you’re expected to be OK with eating stinky old sponges or be around other people eating those sponges every time you go to school, work, or basically any event where you don’t know what’s on the menu. See how awful and anxiety inducing that would be? And, unsurprisingly, this can all make people with ARFID feel embarrassed and want to avoid eating with others. 

It’s also worth noting that people with ARFID typically aren’t restricting what they eat because they’re concerned about their weight or appearance, per the DSM-5-TR. And, the person’s avoidance of food isn’t better explained by a medical condition (like IBS or Crohn’s disease) or another mental health disorder (like depression), says Dr. Eddy, also co-director of Massachusetts General Hospital’s Eating Disorders Clinical and Research Program.  

What causes ARFID? 

ARFID symptoms usually start young, especially for people who just aren’t into eating or who are bothered by the sensory aspect of food, says Dr. Eddy. Kids can show signs of ARFID as early as when they just start eating, and they’re normally diagnosed around 8 or 9, according to James Lock, MD, director of the Eating Disorder Program for Children and Adolescents at Stanford University. That said, people can be diagnosed as adults too, especially if their symptoms were missed as kids or if some food-related event triggered it as they got older (which we’ll get to in a bit).

Researchers are still trying to pinpoint exactly what causes ARFID in young people and adults. There’s some evidence that ARFID runs in families, says Dr. Eddy. Other than that, though, her team is currently testing a few theories, which we’ll talk about here.

For people who avoid eating because they’re afraid of bad things happening to them, they usually experienced or witnessed something scary like choking or getting sick from food, says Dr. Eddy. But a lot of people can choke or get sick and not develop ARFID, so there might be something going on biologically that makes them more likely to hold on to that fear, she explains. 

For people with ARFID who have low interest or appetite, one theory is that they may have some sort of difference in how their bodies tell them they’re hungry and full, says Dr. Eddy. “Folks who have ARFID may have different signaling going on with their appetite-regulating hormones that may make them stop eating prematurely or not even know that they’re hungry,” she explains.

Lastly, people with ARFID who won’t eat certain food because of texture, smell, taste, or whatever it is, usually weren’t able to grow out of the picky eating that they showed as kids, says Dr. Eddy. “We have some hypotheses that maybe they have preferences towards specific types of foods that may run in families and make them less likely to want to try new things,” she explains. This can create a sort of vicious cycle where it becomes harder and harder to introduce new foods. 

How is ARFID treated?

There’s no gold-standard treatment for ARFID yet—researchers are still studying away, notes Dr. Lock. So while some people may be prescribed medication for mental health conditions that might happen alongside ARFID, like ADHD or anxiety disorders, there are no meds officially approved to treat ARFID right now, he says.

That said, people can definitely manage ARFID with therapy, with the goal being to help them feel less anxious about eating and fix any nutritional needs or gain weight if needed, says Dr. Muhlheim. They might still have food preferences, but it’s about getting them to a place where they’re more comfortable with food, she notes. 

One therapy that aims to do all this is CBT specifically developed for ARFID by Dr. Eddy and Jennifer Thomas, PhD, the other co-director of Massachusetts General Hospital’s Eating Disorders Clinical and Research Program. CBT for ARFID basically involves facing your fears around eating (aka exposure). The type of exposure will depend on what someone’s goal is, but it could look like a person who’s avoided pizza for years gradually working their way up to a slice by starting with some tomato sauce on something they’re already OK with (like pasta maybe). They’d start eating this with their therapist, and then they might try it again at home and in different restaurants before moving on to the real thing, Dr. Eddy says. “The more that we do things to avoid situations that feel scary, the scarier they become over time. And so, really, the only way out of anxiety is through it,” she explains.

Another therapy that mental health pros might use for kids and teens is something called family-based therapy for ARFID, developed by Dr. Lock and his team, which helps family members be part of the healing process—setting goals, eating, and trying new foods together. 

And while therapy is great, managing ARFID might also involve checking in with a primary care provider about any physical symptoms that can come up (like GI issues or muscle weakness) and possibly a dietitian to chat about nutritional deficiencies, the experts say. And, in some cases, residential or inpatient treatment might be necessary if someone’s eating needs to be monitored more closely to help with severe weight loss or deficiencies. 

Regardless of how ARFID looks for you or someone you know, help is out there. Here are a few resources for finding a provider with experience treating ARFID:

• National Alliance for Eating Disorders 
• NEDA Treatment Finder
• ARFID Collaborative

“We’ve seen a lot of people who get much better and who no longer meet criteria for ARFID at the end of treatment,” says Dr. Eddy. “Full recovery from ARFID is not only possible but probable.”

The post ARFID Isn’t Just Picky Eating—Let’s Talk About It appeared first on Wondermind.

Q&A Link Copied 10.11.23

This Is Hard for Remi Bader to Say

The TikTok star opens up about the frustrating parts of healing. ByShannon Barbour

Since hitting the TikTok scene with hilarious realistic clothing hauls, Remi Bader has become a fashion and beauty industry powerhouse, designing her own collections, attending covetable runways, and going on the most FOMO-inducing press trips. Bader has also made a name for herself as a mental health advocate who doesn’t shy away from sharing the highs and lows of living in a bigger body, healing from an eating disorder, and managing anxiety. 

“I know there were a lot of people that went into treatment at the time, saying, ‘I didn’t know this was considered an eating disorder, and because of you speaking about it so openly, I put myself into treatment,’” she tells Wondermind. “Things like that make me super happy that I can help other people too.” 

But along with those meaningful connections comes the dark side of social media: trolls, endless judgment, and pressure to have all the answers. After about three tumultuous years in the spotlight, Bader is choosing herself and working to find a balance between sharing too much and nothing at all. 

Here, she sits down for a mental health check-in and reveals how she’s feeling lately, what treatment for binge-eating disorder was like, and her efforts to build a mental health support team. 

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WM: Your social media presence is so open and honest, but you do still have boundaries. How did you find a balance that works for you?

RB: I definitely have changed my mindset from when I started three years ago to now. This year, I’m able to put my mental health first. If there’s something [like] binge eating or my eating disorder that I feel won’t be beneficial for me to share or [like] I’ll get too many opinions on something, then I know that that’s better for me not to share. So I’m better at setting boundaries for myself where I think in the beginning I was like, Wow, this is amazing. I could just spill everything I’m feeling. But that sometimes can end up not the best for you mentally. 

WM: You’ve been particularly open about binge eating. What was it like telling your followers about this? 

RB: I’ve been through this whole eating disorder journey the exact same time that I started on social media, so it’s kind of gone hand in hand. I definitely shared more about it in the beginning when I didn’t know what to do. When I decided to get help and go into a treatment center where I was there for a month, three days a week, three hours a night with no phone, and doing this in person with a group, that made me realize more that I don’t need to share every single moment and every single thing I learn or figure out about myself with the world. But then sometimes [I] feel like I want to if something exciting happens or I realize something or I want to help other people, I want to take that [and] share that on social media.

So it’s been interesting navigating an eating disorder while having a big following. But I do think it’s great that I’m able to decide beforehand—especially because I don’t have it all figured out yet—that I’m not ready to share certain things. 

I thought I was going to go into the treatment center and have all of my answers within a month and be able to go online and then share that with everyone. And then when I went quiet and was done with the treatment, everyone’s like, “Where are your answers? Where’s everything you said you were going to share?” I just stayed really quiet because I was like, “Listen guys, I’m so sorry, but I don’t have the answers for you. I’m feeling like I failed you all, and I don’t want to feel that pressure on myself. I’m just going to wait until I feel like I can share.”

WM: How would you describe your progress today?

RB: Every day is different. I posted a food shopping haul where I was so excited, saying, “Now I feel like I’m able to eat all of these foods I didn’t feel like I could before.” But then I ended up bingeing a week later. It’s such a journey, and I don’t have all the answers. Right now, I’m in the mindset of: OK, sometimes I want to binge. Then my mindset goes to the next day: I want to be super, super healthy. I actually did that this week. I think the good part is I’m able to realize that sooner because [before] I was like, Great. Starting over Monday. The second I had that mindset, I felt restricted again and wanted to binge. So I’m like, No, I can’t do that again. 

I’m in a current mindset of a little bit of frustration of wanting to do both. I want to heal my eating disorder, but for my health and for a little bit of the physical pain I’m in, I want to lose some weight. I think that’s hard for me to say, especially with not wanting to let people down. But deep, deep down, that is how I’m feeling right now. Why can’t I do both? I’m still trying to navigate that.

WM: When you reflect on your mental health journey, what’s something you’re proud of overcoming or learning? 

RB: I was so anti doing the things I needed to do to really help myself. At a point, my anxiety was so bad when I started on social media, and then a year later, it kind of flared up again. I was very [anti-treatment] because I gained a lot of weight at the time I went on different anxiety medications. I was like, I’m not doing that again. 

And then I just think there was a switch in my mind where I was like, I want to help myself first, and I want to put my mental health first. I think [that] was really a year after I blew up on social media. That’s when I was able to go to the right doctors and therapists, go back on medication, and find something that truly worked for me … and feel like there’s nothing wrong with that.

There’s nothing wrong with doing things that make you feel better and that work for you, and you shouldn’t be embarrassed by that. Obviously a big thing was me going into treatment and putting my life on hold for a month to put myself first when it comes to the binge-eating disorder and spending all of my time on that. That was something that I didn’t want to do but knew I had to do. I’m definitely happy I did that. Even though I don’t have all of my answers, it still was beneficial to me.

WM: When you finished treatment, what was that transition like for you?

RB: It was interesting because I wasn’t at a residential treatment place where I was away from the world, and I also was still posting and things were going on. … I do think it was really weird from going to having that group support system in person so often to then really being on my own. 

That didn’t benefit me because you’re not really supposed to leave a treatment center, whether you’re there residentially or just going in and out, without having a full support system, like a therapist, a dietitian, and a full team around you. I didn’t do that because I went away so quickly—I had a work trip. I wanted to go right back to the treatment center [after], and they wouldn’t allow me to because once you leave, it’s a whole process to get back in. 

I’ve definitely shared this with them, but I don’t think they necessarily set me up with being able to succeed and having those people [to support me]. … I spoke to a lot of people afterward saying that’s something they need to make sure you have because a lot of people don’t know how to help themselves on their own. 

I think I got right back into work and wasn’t able to help myself. I got back into bingeing and things like that after the treatment center. But again, I think that made me later on be like, I need to seek out a therapist. I need to seek out a dietitian and these things to be able to get better, which I’m currently doing now. It doesn’t mean that everything is figured out, but it’s definitely helping.

WM: Are there any mental health stigmas or misconceptions that bug you the most?

RB: One is that eating disorders aren’t really considered mental health to some people. I actually just went to a whole thing on this at the United Nations talking about how eating disorders should be a part of World Mental Health Day and be considered mental health. I think a lot of people just don’t realize that it’s so connected. That is a big thing that I share on my platform and think is super important. 

Also just talking about medication and getting the help you need and people being afraid to do that, thinking that it might not be the right thing to do. It might be too hard for them. They don’t have the time. … You need to put yourself first and your mental health first because that’s the only way you’re going to be able to put yourself forward in the best possible way for a job or for people in your life. That was something that I’ve learned a lot in the past three years. 

WM: What else would you like to add about mental health and your story? 

RB: When it comes to mental health, there’s just so many different bits and pieces for me. I have suffered with super intense anxiety, panic attacks, a nervous tic disorder on and off my whole life, a little bit of depression, and then this binge-eating disorder. Sometimes we think we’re a problem when we have all these issues. I used to play myself like, What is wrong with me? Why is there always something wrong with me?

The more [mental health is] talked about, the more it’s normalized and we realize that everyone else around us is going through such similar things and similar thoughts. There’s nothing wrong with you. 

This interview has been edited and condensed for length and clarity.

The post This Is Hard for Remi Bader to Say appeared first on Wondermind.

Q&A Link Copied 09.06.23

Kiana Madeira Is Slowing Down

“I feel like the world is designed for us to play on hard mode.” ByShannon Barbour

This interview was conducted prior to the SAG-AFTRA strike and does not focus on the promotion of any particular project. We proudly stand with the WGA and SAG-AFTRA.

If there’s one thing actor Kiana Madeira is going to do (well, aside from delivering powerful performances in movies like Perfect Addiction and Brother), it’s making sure she takes care of her mind by tapping into mindfulness exercises, her faith, and therapy. “I feel like the world is designed for us to play on hard mode,” she tells Wondermind. “But the more I connect with God, the more God gives me the courage to actually go to therapy and meditate and read self-help books. God tells me that life is supposed to be enjoyed, and I think all of these practices for mental health are tools to help us live a joyful life.” 

Here, the actor sits down for a mental health check-in and shares what her journey has been like, from learning to be confident to getting comfortable with spending time alone. 

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WM: What’s bringing you joy or feels invigorating to you right now?

Kiana Madeira: Something I’m investigating right now and I’m really curious about is slowing things down. I’m reading this book called The Things You Can See Only When You Slow Down, and it’s bringing me a lot of joy because for a lot of my life, my mental state was dependent on how busy my life was. I’m starting to learn that if my mind is at peace, the world outside of me is also at peace. Even if from an outside perspective it’s very chaotic, I can actually experience peace just by slowing things down internally. That has me really excited lately.

WM: What has your mental health journey been like over the years?

KM: My mental health journey has been interesting, complex, and, I think, beautiful. Most specifically, I grew up in the industry, so I started acting when I was 10. I wasn’t a child star or anything; I actually got my first pretty big break right after high school, so that was probably a blessing in disguise because I got to have a normal childhood. 

But I quickly started to experience a lot of body image issues late into my teens and early into my 20s. I wasn’t even really [aware] that I was struggling with that. I developed an eating disorder when I was around 20, and, honestly, I didn’t even think it was a thing until a year or two went by and I started doing yoga at a home studio in Canada where I’m from. 

Starting my yoga practice was the first time I actually slowed down and really checked in with myself and realized I’ve been abusing my body and I’ve been kind of obsessed with maintaining a specific body image. [I thought] it would help me book roles and help me excel in my career. But really, the years that I was struggling with my eating disorder were the only years that I’ve never worked. So it was an interesting time for me. When I was 22, thank God, I was able to overcome that eating disorder and really prioritize my mental health. 

It’s been a journey ever since. There are times where it’s still a struggle. I think speaking about things like that is really important. … But I’m 30 now, and I was able to overcome those things, and I’m still working on maintaining my self-worth on a daily basis. 

WM: Were there any coping tools or mental health exercises in addition to yoga that helped you through your eating disorder? 

KM: I [try] my hardest not to get caught up in everything. Social media, for me, is huge. As humans, our minds are not actually programmed to intake so much information. As we scroll on social media, we’re subconsciously comparing ourselves to people we don’t know and also photos that are likely not even natural. Not having the presence of mind and just mindlessly scrolling is a dangerous trap.

I really set intentions every day to limit my time on social media. If I am going to log on to Instagram, I have an intention. I want to connect with my fans or post something that I want to promote, and then I log out and I delete the app. 

We naturally get swept up in [social media and comparison], and I don’t even think it’s a fair fight for us to try to be on social media all day and think that it’s not going to have a negative impact on our mind.

WM: When you disconnect, how do you like to spend your time? 

KM: My favorite way is meditating. I love closing my eyes and breathing and going inward. At first when you start meditating, I think it can be really daunting and your mind goes crazy. But after developing the practice, it feels like the most peaceful place in the world. It’s so simple when you’re sitting in silence and you’re breathing. Throughout the years, it’s helped me to think about my thoughts as clouds in the sky. When I’m meditating, thoughts come up, but I just gently let them float away. That visual really helps me. 

I also pray a lot. I’m Christian, and I feel like my faith has helped me so much. Knowing that I’m not alone and reading scripture in the Bible really helps remind me of who I am, not who the world says I am and not what negative thoughts sometimes tell me I am. 

WM: What gives you confidence? 

KM: I feel at my best when I am walking my own path and making decisions for myself. That includes eating what I want to eat and not drinking if I’m out. Even though it sometimes feels like that’s the social thing to do, if I make a decision that I’m not going to drink tonight, that makes me feel really confident. Or vice versa. Sometimes I want to drink and have a good time. That makes me feel confident too. I [feel most confident when I’m] making decisions for myself and checking in with myself before I give into the pressures of what I think society wants me to be.

WM: You seem to be really good about staying present, staying true to yourself, and being comfortable alone. Have you always been like that, or was there a learning curve?

KM: Honestly, I haven’t always been like that. I am a middle child in my family, so growing up, I actually never really had my own room; I shared with my sister. Then immediately from moving out of that house, I moved in with Lovell [Adams-Gray]. I’ve never really had my own space. 

Only when I started traveling for acting and filming in remote locations did I actually get to spend time by myself. It was shocking at first. I was very uncomfortable with it. I was so used to always having family or friends around, and I think it made me really sad. In the beginning, I felt very lonely, but then I started to really learn about myself. I started to learn how to cook. I started to investigate what makes me happy alone. I picked up playing the guitar, which is something that I did just for me. 

It’s been a process, and it didn’t always come naturally to me. I think I made an intention to go inward and ask myself those questions. What do I want to do that’s just for me—not to better my career, not to improve my acting, not to impress other people? In my own space, what makes me happy? 

I’m still learning, honestly. I definitely still feel anxious when I’m alone sometimes. I’m like a busybody. I feel like I always need to be doing something to fill the time. So I’m consistently working on checking myself and slowing things down.

WM: If you could go back, what mental health advice would you give your younger self? 

KM: Make time for myself, embrace being alone, embrace my emotions. … I’ve always craved understanding myself. I would tell my younger self to be easy on myself and give myself grace because it’s a journey. Don’t let anxiety or fear prevent you from continuing on the path of really getting to know yourself. 

This interview has been edited and condensed for length and clarity.

The post Kiana Madeira Is Slowing Down appeared first on Wondermind.