Interview with Devon R., High School Senior about Her Struggle with Anorexia

Audrey: Devon, thanks for sitting down with me. You’re heading to college soon with plans to double major in physics and philosophy — an intense combo. What drew you to those subjects?

Devon: Thanks for having me. Honestly? I like questions that don’t have easy answers. Or maybe no answers at all. Physics gives me a way to understand the universe — like, what is time actually? — while philosophy lets me question whether time is even real or just a weird illusion cooked up by our minds trying to make sense of entropy. Also, I like contradictions. They make me feel less alone.

Audrey: That’s a very Devon answer. [laughs]. Would you say contradiction is a theme in your life?

Devon: [laughs] That’s generous. More like a reality I haven’t figured out how to live with. Like… I want to be healthy, but I’m terrified of what that looks like. I want to be visible for who I am — like intellectually, spiritually — but also invisible, especially when I walk past reflective surfaces or hear someone whisper. So yeah, lots of contradictions of which I’m aware but somehow am unable to reconcile.

Audrey: I appreciate that you can be open about your struggle with anorexia ––which seems to not be so common. How did it start and what has your high school journey been like?

Devon: A family friend said something like, “You’d be so pretty if you just lost a few pounds.” It took such a hit on my confidence. I started trying to be “better” — eating less, working out more, you know the usual diet tropes. But at some point, I understood that it wasn’t really about looking better, it was about control. Like, if I could control this one thing — my body, my intake — then maybe I could manage the rest of the chaos. I’m sensitive. I look at the world ––the wars, the violence, the injustice and inhumanity, and above all our culture that sexualizes girls and punishes women for aging ––and it’s brutal. It makes you feel powerless.. But hunger? It feels like its own kind of mastery and power with some endorphins thrown in for good measure.

Audrey: That sounds incredibly difficult and painful. When did you realize it had become something harmful?

Devon: I actually started fainting in random places. Also, I couldn’t read a page of a physics textbook without re-reading it five times because my brain felt full of static. I entered a vicious cycle of severely restricting then binging because I was literally starving, then panicking and trying to undo it all with more severe restriction and compulsive, excessive exercise. It’s like this exhausting loop I can’t get out of. What disgusts me most is all the praise I get. “You look amazing!” “What have you been doing ?” In our society, it appears that for women, wasting away is a glow-up. It infuriates me.

Audrey: I hear you. That must be incredibly confusing and angering.

Devon: Definitely. Part of me still craves validation, acknowledgement of all of my twisted efforts. Part of me thinks I’m finally thin enough, and the other knows I look sick and probably scare small children. [laughs] None of it makes sense. Another part of me feels rebellious -wants to look sick, look awful just to make a statement. Like I’m trying to disappear, or un-gender myself. A kind of protest, I guess — against beauty standards, against capitalism, against the whole messed-up value system we never asked to be part of. But there’s also a spiritual element, like I don’t want to be burdened by the base needs of our bodies, just exist as an ethereal, intellectual being, or at the very least never be naked –––only nude.

Audrey: But you do want to get better, do you not?

Devon: [long pause] I do; I really do. I want to be able to think clearly again. To run because it feels good, not because I’m burning penance. I want to go out for dinner with friends without mapping out how I’ll punish myself and make up for it later. But eating is still terrifying. Gaining weight feels like losing something. Control. Identity. Safety. I know that’s the disorder talking. But knowing isn’t always enough. When it gets really bad you come to understand that you have to make a choice between life or death. Surely it is better to be alive as a “fat” and messy person than die thin and “in control.”

Audrey: If you could talk to your younger self — the girl who first heard that judgmental comment — what would you say?

Devon: I’d tell myself that my worth is not measured by the circumference of my thighs. That being “pretty” isn’t a reward — it’s a distraction, a trap. I’d convince myself that I’m not weak for having feelings or for wanting to feel safe. Most importantly real control of one’s life comes from knowing yourself and choosing compassion, repeatedly. I know these things intellectually but am unable to abide by them.

Audrey: Those are such powerful ideas. It is hard to hear about your struggles but I take comfort in knowing you have such wisdom and resilience and many people supporting you. What do you hope for yourself as you begin this next chapter?

Devon: I want to be able to heed those words and actually follow through. I want to help others who also struggle with an eating disorder. Deep down I understand that we are wasting our lives and all the good that we have to offer the world. That’s the disease. And I am more than just my illness. I want to study the stars and the brain and write illuminating philosophy papers and have fun and be free to be exactly who I am whether I’m in my dorm kitchen, at a party, or on a date. And I want, someday, to be able to just live normally, eat an ice cream cone without guilt, move comfortably in my own body, feel loved and love in return, and be my authentic self, unabashedly. I also want to stop being so tired…I’m so so tired.