The courage it takes to share your story might be the very thing someone else needs to open their heart to hope
The courage it takes to share your story might be the very thing someone else needs to open their heart to hope
Katie Regittko, they-them, co-chair
In past years, Embody Carolina has continuously participated in Southern Smash events. We have tabled at the scale smash, and had members speak at the SmashTALK events afterward. Throughout the years, we have seen and experienced many issues with these events, and our concerns have only increased since the rise of Black Lives Matter protests and action earlier this year. In August, we were asked to be a part of Southern Smash and The Alliance For Eating Disorders Awareness's "Dare to Love Yourself" summit, a virtual day of workshops and panels around eating disorder awareness and recovery. After careful consideration about these two organizations pasts and current response to the visibility of racial inequality, we have decided to no longer move forward supporting these organizations or their events on campus. Tonight, Southern Smash and the Alliance for Eating Disorders are hosting "Dare to Love Yourself UNC" a virtual replacement for Southern Smash and SmashTALK events. Here is why Embody will not be participating:
Embody Carolina is first and foremost a committee of the Campus Y, the social justice "hub" on campus. Our most important values center around social justice, eating disorder awareness and advocacy in marginalized communities, and body liberation. We recognize that eating disorders are social justice issues which disproportionately impact marginalized communities and make it harder for them to receive a diagnosis and adequate treatment. We are dedicated to fighting for equity in the field of eating disorder advocacy and body liberation and stand with LGBTQ, BIPOC, disabled, latinx, and all marginalized communities. In July, we signed on to Trans Folks Fighting Eating Disorders's Open Letter to eating disorder institutions and organizations calling for change in the way they claim to support marginalized communities without steps towards real change, and we are dedicated to following through on that call.
In our past collaborations with Southern Smash, the event was marketed largely toward sororities within the Panhellenic Council. Both events are considered a "point" for these sorority sisters, encouraging people to come to fulfill a point for their organization, after which they often leave without engaging in the event. These large crowds of sorority sisters are often off-putting to people in marginalized communities, and unknowingly encourage people outside of the Panhellenic council to not come. Personally, when I see a group of a hundred sorority sisters lined up, I start walking the other way. There are competitions encouraged to the Panhellenic council to design the best scale or raise the most money, and the large promotion of Panhellenic sororities signals where their priorities for spreading awareness and resources lie, albeit without overtly making that statement. However, we know that Panhellenic sororities and traditional greek life as a whole hold deeply racist histories which reinforce the gender binary and class stratification.
Greek life holds a hefty monetary and social admission price, which breeds organizations which are predominantly white, cisgender, and upper class. When eating disorder resources are only funneled into these organizations, it is no surprise that BIPOC with eating disorders are half as likely to be diagnosed or to receive treatment. So what is the priority access given to sorority sisters actually about? To answer that, I think it's easiest to look at the founders and teams of these organizations. Currently, the Alliance for Eating Disorders has no Black members on their team or board. The founders of both organizations are privileged white women who were able to access treatment with their own funding. SmashTALKs are usually largely centered around the story of their founder, who was able to quit her job and privately pay for treatment, with the overarching theme of "if I can do it, you can too" without acknowledging real barriers that others face.
Additionally, at Embody, we recognize that the pressure from popular organizations and campaigns to “love yourself” can be very off-putting and even harmful for people in marginalized communities, as various factors remain in place that are not conducive to this way of thinking. And then a sense of shame comes when people aren’t able to “love themselves” like others. For some people, loving themselves publicly is a very dangerous dare to accept. For many communities, publicly “loving themselves” has been used to contort and oppress their identities.
The Dare to Love Yourself UNC panel is mostly white, cis women. The Panhellenic Council is a sponsor. Especially in this day and age, that is a problem. Alliance for Eating Disorders and Southern Smash seem oblivious to the way in which eating disorder advocacy and treatment efforts have isolated and harmed members of marginalized communities. Until we see concrete steps taken towards change in the way resources are dispersed and the representation on the team as well as in events and sponsors, we will not be participating in Southern Smash or Alliance for Eating Disorders events.
Embody Carolina is dedicated to sharing resources with and learning from the experiences of marginalized communities who experience weight stigma, body image distress, and eating disorders. If you are interested in learning more about our work on this front or supporting us, join us on November 10th for our panel on access to treatment in college and kick off Transgender Awareness Week with us on November 13th at our Comedy Fundraiser for Trans Folks Fighting Eating Disorders!
Katie Regittko, they/them, co-chair
Oh hey Embody buds, here is me talking about how much The Climb by Miley Cyrus absolutely slaps and then singing it.
This is the song that brought me back to music in 2019, and I'm really grateful for it because music has been so important to me in the past year to regulate, express myself, and be authentic with others. (have you not listened to my spotify or soundcloud yet? weird)
Wherever Heather, the music therapist who singlehandedly brought me back to playing music, is now, I hope she's doing well. I don't think she'll ever know what that three minute song in a dim, cold treatment center on a Saturday morning did, but I know she'll be the first one I thank at the Grammy's.
Katie Regittko, they/them, co-chair
I remember spending months dreaming about attending UNC. Not for the old well sips and basketball games and frat parties, but because of the 24/7 gym access and lack of support and watchful eye over my eating. The school year came, and with dredged up disdain for ending up so close to home and the stress of a new environment, so did my eating disorder in full force, worse than it ever had been before. It took on new faces, rearing its ugly head, until less than a month into second semester I was in the hospital and subsequently a treatment center.
Summer 2018, I planned to only do what I called "light restriction" during the school year. So how did it get so bad so quickly? There are some hypothesis I have: still dealing with rejection from my dream schools, being away from my dog, isolating in a single room, overworking myself, the "little fish, big pond" analogy, etc. But, at the end of the day, colleges are breeding grounds for eating disorders, especially at huge schools with a heavy athletic and fraternity/sorority presence, the textbook UNC definition.
Parts of seemingly "normal" college culture are steeped in diet culture and promote eating disorder behaviors. My first year of school, I thought it was normal to fast all day before a night of drinking, either to get inebriated quicker or to look a certain way in the outfit I had planned. Dining halls are plagued with large calorie counts in front of every option, and you can't get past a day without hearing about the "freshman 15". Comparison runs rampant--in class among your peers' knowledge, and also about the way other people live their lives. It isn't uncommon to hear about how someone spent hours in the gym or skipped eating before class. Meal plans are set up to make it easier to skip meals, and I won't even get into the horrid LFIT requirement.
When I look back at these things, on my first year of college, I have a lot of compassion for the person who struggled so badly and quickly. Not only was I transitioning from a graduating class of 30 students to an undergraduate body of 18,000, I was also grieving the death of a friend, trying to find my own way as a semi-independent adult, repairing the relationship with my parents, balancing a full course load, and wading through all the college diet culture bullshit. And I wish so badly that I could go back and tell myself to take it easy, everyone is just figuring things out.
So for the incoming freshman, who might have struggled with an eating disorder before or is currently struggling, here are some things I wish I could go back and tell Katie on their first few days at UNC:
1. Find a community
Shameless self plug, but Embody Carolina became a lifeline for me in college. Having a group of people who were focused on eating disorder advocacy and body liberation helped me to not only challenge some of the diet culture I saw on campus, but also eventually brought me the strength and resources to reach out for help. UNC is filled with hundreds of clubs for any interest you could think of--find one and become a regular. Those people will become a lifeline for you, and life-long friends.
2. Develop a consistent eating schedule
I can't stress this enough: eat and eat often. UNC classes need your full brain power. Get into the habit of eating three meals a day and bringing snacks with you. You're probably going to be walking more than usual, so eating enough is even more imperative. The fun thing is that eating can be really social in college, go to Ramsgiving or go on an excursion to Franklin street with friends!
3. Steer clear from the gym for a while
Gym culture in college is something else. Going to the gym just to go to the gym can be a bad idea if you have a history with eating disorders. If you want to move your body, opt for one of the many opportunities for joyful movement on campus. Join a dance club, play volleyball in one of the quads, hit balls on the tennis court with friends, or do fun fitness classes through the Student Recreation Center!
4. Opt for a lighter course load
This is the number one thing I wish I did my first semester. With a full ride scholarship, I felt the pressure to "make it count" VERY hard. So I filled my schedule to the brim with classes I loved and were interesting, but no matter how amazing they were, the combination of 18 credit hours and just trying to figure things out was a recipe for disaster. I would even recommend just taking 12 credit hours your first semester and seeing how that feels, then revisiting in the Spring.
5. You Belong Here
The imposter syndrome at UNC can be real, especially before you find your place. But you did it, you're here and going to one of the best public schools in the nation. It is real, and you are amazing for getting here. There is no rush to fit absolutely all of the traditions and expected actions into your first couple of months. Take care of yourself first, keep doing the things you love to do (make sure to make time for them). Some days, you're not going to want to wake up a 6am to stand in line at the Old Well and that's okay. You're a Tar Heel, like it or not.
6. Help is available, seek it out sooner rather than later
There are so many resources for help and extra support right here on campus and in the community. Chapel Hill has a free support group for people with eating disorders, and CAPS has a free body image group for students. Campus Health has an eating disorder treatment team, and there are a number of amazing providers in the surrounding area. UNC Center of Excellence for Eating Disorders is right there for centralized outpatient support and higher levels of care. Carolina House and Veritas Collaborative are right down the road for higher levels of care. And the Embody team is always here for peer support.
Eating disorders and starting college are both incredibly difficult feats that sadly often go hand in hand. But, you are not alone. Your body needs all the love and care from you as you start this new chapter of your life, and so many of us are here to give compassion and support.
Katie Regittko, they/them, co-chair
The next ten years of your life will rock your world in ways you could never imagine. All of your dreams will come true, and then they’ll come crashing down. But you'll realize there are bigger, better, more fulfilling dreams out there.
Right now you’re beginning to break apart. Things are hard, I know, they always have been. They’ll get a lot harder before they get better. You’re meeting friends who teach you about dieting, self harm, eating disorders. For the first time, you don’t feel alone, but you don’t know how alone these things will eventually make you feel.
Middle school will be hard. Your body, trust, and soul will be violated—I wish you didn't have to grow up so fast. In seventh grade, you’ll start thinking about your sexuality & gender, and you realize just how cruel people can be. It'll be hard, but it will also mobilize you and bring you to activism, which you'll find will save your life and give it meaning in many roundabout ways. The world will harden you, but your communities will show you how to be soft again.
You get let down by two different high schools, but Junior year you'll find your home at a little school in Cary. You make it work. You become the person you dreamed of being who works with multiple non-profits and runs a bunch of clubs at school. Student body president, valedictorian, national councils, federal volunteer awards, published books and articles (see that teen vogue next to your bed? you actually will be in it one day and it's won't be because you're skinny), times square billboards, the works. This never makes you as happy as you think it might. It actually kind of breaks you, multiple times. Eventually you’ll admit to yourself and slowly others that it was a front, that you haven’t been yourself your entire life. You got the marks on your resume and the pictures to prove it, but the memories are shrouded in that pesky eating disorder.
You'll fall in love with a university and get rejected. You'll fall in love with losing weight and lose everything. You'll fall in love with being sick and think your life is over there. Hold on, because one day you will fall in love with your life, or at least parts.
You adopt a dog in high school who saves you over and over. At points, she'll be the only thing keeping you going, and for that and so many other things, I'm grateful for her. She’s lying next to me snoring now. We regulate (if you knew what I know now, you'd roll your eyes at that).
You bounce in and out of "recovery", sometimes believing yourself and others not. The eating disorder is always there in some way. You get really good at lying, and it's not a good thing: eventually, you start to forget the difference between the story you tell other people and the one you're living. In college, you'll describe yourself as an "eating disorder Clark Kent". After freshman year, you start to embrace authenticity and find the strength to speak your voice and story regardless of its messiness.
You go to your last choice college and continue to make it work. Things are rocky. Things hit the fan over and over. I don’t want to scare you with how many times you’ll find yourself in hospitals and psych wards and treatment centers. The labels of "treatment resistant" and brushes with death. But you make it through. People who don't give up on you trickle into your life and you slowly let them.
That psychology major dream? It was never your dream. You never wanted to be a therapist, you just wanted help. You fall head over heels in love with Sociology in high school (I know, it’ll make more sense later on) and eventually shift your specialization to criminology in education and then to healthcare & disability studies. Revolution runs in your veins. You never stopped wanting to help people through it all—that wish only became stronger the more you struggled. It will become more sustainable when you focus on your own healing.
One day, you’ll get tired of your own bullshit. You’ll realize no one is coming to save you and in a last ditch effort you make the hard decision to do it yourself. It doesn’t get easier, until sometimes it does. One day you’ll find yourself waking up and the first thought is “what’s for breakfast?” not “what’s the number on the scale?”
You’ll find forever friends and travel and repair your relationship with your parents. You’ll cry and scream and numb and suffer but make it out alive. You’ll start doing work that you’re passionate about and that truly helps people. You connect with your ancestry and convert to Judaism after a life-changing trip to Europe. You abandon music in a hard moment and find it again years later in a cold treatment center one Saturday morning among people who make you feel heard. Oh, and baby, you’re not a liberal. I’ll let you figure that one out for yourself later in a few years (pick up a book about the Zapatistas for a head start).
You’ll become a person you hate, and then a person you are proud of. You find your way, again and again, stumbling, but never giving up completely. And I’m proud of that. I’m proud of you at ten, proud of the ways you learned to adapt and cope and survive in your youth, and even more proud that you eventually learned other ways, even if I don't always use them yet. There will always be another way.
Hold on, sweet one. It’s a long and painful ride, but there are some highlights and eventually you make it through. I’m writing this in an apartment in Carrboro with a roommate who’s one of the best people I’ve ever met and a pug & two rats. This little family you've built makes it harder to give in on the bad days and makes the good ones more meaningful. Tomorrow I’ll celebrate the end of my teen years with cake and alcohol and food and movies because we can do that now. We always could (okay, easy on the alcohol).
by Sarah Wahid, outgoing co-chair
At the end of last year, coronavirus seemed like a distant thing that would have no major effect on my life. Ebola was contained pretty effectively, and I was in fifth grade when H1N1 occurred. This would be just like those; besides, it was something that was happening across the world, far away from my life and those that I love.
As my last semester at UNC began, there were inklings that coronavirus would become something more. I had flu-like symptoms in February and was worried I had someway, somehow gotten coronavirus. I went to dinner with my friends who had heard from others that spring break would be extended due to coronavirus, with the possibility of switching to online classes. Cases started to trickle in and appear all over the US. And as someone who has struggled with anxiety and OCD and can be a bit of a hypochondriac at times, I began to be terrified by the possibility that this was going to be catastrophic. Thankfully, Expedia always gives people refunds when you cancel a trip, because I had already decided to cancel the New York trip I had planned for my last spring break. Break came around, and the university began sending out messages about self-quarantining if going to countries or states heavily affected by coronavirus.
Over the course of spring break, circumstances worsened every day. What started as something that was paranoid to be worried about expanded into a large enough threat for travel bans, virtually all spring breaks being extended and schools going online, and multiple state-of-emergencies. My heart sank as I read the email that graduation had been postponed. It seemed like everyone started working from home apart from my parents, who are regarded as essential workers due to their careers being in the health field, and the thought of them being exposed to the virus paralyzed me with fear. My anxiety grew with the exponentially growing number of cases, but I kept telling myself that it was okay, that it was temporary. I distracted myself with anything I could to keep me from thinking about the rapidly changing world outside.
People with eating disorders know that they are often a defense mechanism. Since my eating disorder is something that has grown in times that I experienced adversity due to my race, it also made sense that it would grow during a pandemic. It may not seem relevant to talk about eating disorders with everything else going on, but I’ve realized that it is. I numbly stared at empty grocery store aisles and didn’t think it mattered at first when my therapist asked how coronavirus was affecting my eating disorder. But as numerous jokes about the “Quarantine 15” and home workout videos piled up on my social media accounts, I realized how this would be hard for everyone currently dealing or has dealt with an eating disorder. I realized that when people feel threatened, they run back to the thing that made them feel in control and comforted, that gave them some semblance of normalcy in a world that none of us have ever experienced before. When everyone is saying to use this time to do home workouts and try healthy recipes, the sense of guilt that is often associated with eating disorders starts to creep back in and intensify.
You should know that it is perfectly okay to not use this time to work out, that it is okay to eat what you can and what you want when maybe even grocery shopping isn’t safe. You don’t have to write a book or start a project or develop a perfect skincare regimen or solve world peace, and most of all, you don’t have to lose weight. You don’t have to “use” this time for anything. Don’t let yourself be ridiculed by people who keep saying that this isn’t a big deal. It is okay to feel scared, and it’s understandable to want to cling on to something familiar when things become unpredictable. I encourage you to reach out to your therapists and your loved ones. And I want you all to know that here at Embody, we understand. We are here for you during this tumultuous, uncertain time.
On another note entirely, I didn’t know that the last Embody meeting I went to would be my last one. I pictured being able to end my semester with saying goodbye to the organization that has defined my college experience. I just want to say thank you to everyone who has helped me learn and grow from this organization, because I don’t know who I would be if I hadn’t found it my freshman year. So this is goodbye, at least for now. I’m excited to see the lovely people you all become and to see where this organization goes from here.
Eating Disorders are a Serious Issue for Everyone, But Allies Make a Huge Difference -- and are What David Gaviria Needed
by Ashley Broadwater, outgoing co-chair
David Gaviria spent years with a dysfunctional heart, fainting spells and seizures. But his senior year of undergrad, while listening to his internship boss chew him out over asking off for his mom’s birthday, he realized he’d hit his breaking point.
His stress was real: as an undergrad, he was enrolled in 18 credit hours, working 20 hours and doing 20 hours of research each week. But there was an issue that he kept hidden – from his boss, his family, everyone: he had been dealing with an eating disorder for seven years.
“That’s the first thing I thought,” Gaviria said. “I need to get help for the eating disorder.”
But when Gaviria reached out for that help, people didn’t tend to believe he, as a man, had an eating disorder. They second-guessed him. He didn’t fit the emaciated, white girl stereotype in the media. He didn’t feel comfortable reaching out, especially to people who wouldn’t understand and know how to help.
These inaccurate portrayals of who has eating disorders, what they look like, and how to help is unacceptable, especially given that one in four college students has one. That stigma keeps individuals from believing they’re sick and getting treatment. It’s why eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness and are the third most common chronic condition in adolescents. More people need education so they can understand, seek treatment and lend support.
“Everyone knows someone who’s had an eating disorder,” Gaviria said. “People are literally surrounded by eating disorders all day, so they’re having a direct impact on the person who doesn’t recognize it.”
Eating disorders have an impact on many aspects of an individual’s and culture’s well-being. “The student not getting good grades could lower a teacher’s metrics,” Gaviria said. “A family can be torn apart. Car accidents happen because people are obsessing over their food. People with eating disorders make $20 thousand less a year because they miss work or aren’t as productive because they’re always thinking about food.”
If he hadn’t sought treatment – and had his mother to lean on – Gaviria believes he would’ve been hospitalized and unable to attend graduate school like he is now, or at least not be as successful. His mind wouldn’t have had the time or ability to do what needed to be done because of the severe malnutrition he was facing: according to studies, people with eating disorders think about food and their body 70 to 100 percent of the time.
Gaviria says God called him to raise awareness, so that people would understand the impact of eating disorders and the importance of listening to people who are struggling.
Embody Carolina, an organization at UNC-Chapel Hill, focuses on just that. As a part of the Campus Y, they have a social justice focus that centers on the intersectionality aspect of eating disorders. Research shows that marginalized groups are more likely to have eating disorders because of the extra stressors they deal with, and how they’re also less likely to be believed since they don’t fit the stereotype.
Embody was started was to teach students how to be allies for others with eating disorders. Embody hosts educational trainings for aspiring allies with a script created by the National Center of Excellence for Eating Disorders at UNC Hospitals.
Anyone can attend these trainings so they can become more educated, effective and compassionate allies who can serve the one in four people they know.
“It could save someone’s life,” Gaviria said. “Being an ally makes you more aware that people are going through things, so the more you can be accepting of that, the better person you are and can be.”
Resources to support yourself or a friend:
Embody Carolina trainings page and resources page
by Ashley Broadwater, co-chair
Trigger warning: mentions of eating disorder behaviors
McCall Dempsey ate food out of trash cans then made herself vomit. She watched her heart beat out of her chest after swallowing too many diet pills. She allowed herself to eat only certain low-calorie foods. She stepped on the bathroom scale multiple times a day.
She believed her worth depended on her weight and appearance. She wanted to be perfect.
Her life was far from perfect, but she didn’t let that show.
When she was in the depths of her eating disorder in college, she also dressed up and took pictures during Bid Day for her sorority, Kappa Kappa Gamma. She partied with friends. She met her boyfriend, Jordan, who would later become her husband.
“I acted like I had it all together. I looked normal,” she said. “That’s what you do as a Southern woman – act like everything’s fine. I sold shirts and planned parties for my sorority, then binged and purged after.”
After 15 years of living two lives, Dempsey grew tired. She wanted her life to mean more. She quit what she thought was her dream job working for an advertising agency called BBR to enter a residential treatment center, Carolina House, in December 2010. She lived there for the next three months, going through different kinds of therapy with other residents.
During her time at Carolina House, she realized she wanted to pay it forward.
In 2012, Dempsey finally realized how. She realized her calling: to start Southern Smash.
Southern Smash is a program of The Alliance for Eating Disorders Awareness that provides college students the opportunity to smash scales and engage in activities aimed to boost self-esteem, as well as listen to a panel of people talk about eating disorders and recovery. The scale smashing and activities happen during the day, then that night, she and other panelists speak about their experiences. Dempsey dares students to love themselves.
Southern Smash will turn seven on November 16 this year. It all started with Dempsey’s idea of smashing scales and an organization named SoleSisters at Louisiana State University asking her to speak after looking at her blog and social media.
“I’ll speak for y’all, sure, that sounds like it could be fun,” Dempsey said. “What are your thoughts on also doing a scale smash?”
“A scale smash? What do you mean?” Sole Sisters asked.
“Like, where we smash bathroom scales with baseball bats,” Dempsey said. She worried they would find her idea weird, but she believed it embodied a way to support others in a relevant way.
They loved it. They wanted to smash diet culture and mental health stigma.
Dempsey held the first Southern Smash at Louisiana State University. People smashed scales on a grassy area in front of the blue lakes.
Southern Smash came to UNC-Chapel Hill’s campus for the seventh time on Monday, Oct. 14, 2019 in front of Davis Library. In that space, tables featuring treatment centers covered the brick ground.
In the middle of the tables, the scales sat in plastic bags on a black foam mat. Many students smashed scales with all their strength using a baseball bat and sledgehammer that Dempsey provided. Encouraging pop songs played in the background.
Smashing a scale and listening to others’ stories helped Sarah Wahid. Growing up, her peers made fun of her for being the only South Asian student. Her awareness of her race came as early as four years old, when she wanted to be a white princess.
Tired of others calling her weird, she believed she had to change her appearance to earn their respect.
She started to restrict her caloric intake and compulsively exercise. The weight she lost never felt like enough, and she realized that.
The scale used to control Wahid’s life, but it doesn’t anymore.
At the smash, she heard laughter. She heard baseball bats whacking scales. She heard friends talking to each other.
She saw people taking videos of their friends hitting the scales, smiling. She saw the empowering messages people wrote, reminders they are worth more than a number, more than their weight. She saw groups of people talking.
Wahid is the co-chair of Embody Carolina, an organization that promotes eating disorder education, awareness, body positivity and intersectionality. She works with Maggie Helmke, an outreach coordinator, whose first Southern Smash occurred this year. Wahid considers Helmke to be one of her closest Embody friends, and she appreciates how Helmke makes herself available when she’s needed.
Helmke also struggled with the scale last year, stepping on it multiple times.
She doesn’t want to step on it anymore.
This year at Southern Smash, Helmke had to run to get there in time after her geology class.
Her stress melted when she arrived. Like everyone else, she felt joy from hearing scales shatter. But what meant most to her was seeing her friend who is nonbinary, Katie Regittko, smash a scale.
Regittko has struggled recently with their recovery from bulimia, so when smashing a scale made them radiant, their body relaxing, Helmke worried a little less for her friend’s wellbeing.
Helmke realizes that some people don’t feel ready to smash scales, but that doing so is a great first step in recovery and body positivity. She felt encouraged seeing her friends outside of Embody partake in the smashing.
She admired the strength she saw in students smashing scales, both in their ability to pick up something as heavy as a sledgehammer as well as their ability to smash something that often takes over the life of someone dealing with an eating disorder.
Amy Sullivan, a Smash Coordinator working with Dempsey, has struggled with the scale as well. She was in treatment for anorexia when she heard Dempsey’s story. This story played a part in showing Sullivan that recovery is possible, something she had trouble believing.
She decided to keep fighting for recovery.
When she was deep in her eating disorder, she spent a lot of time alone. She didn’t tell anyone about her struggles.
She wanted to share her story to give hope.
“I vowed if I made it through the storm, I would give back and share my story like those brave women had done for me,” Sullivan said.
Her story came full circle when Southern Smash came to her alma mater, Texas A&M University. Instead of feeling triggered, she felt hope and renewal, having come far in recovery.
She listened to scale-bashing. She felt power in her arms as she smashed alongside her parents and former therapist. She experienced her dream coming true as she shared her story.
Before, she didn’t want to touch anything related to eating disorders with a ten-foot pole, scared someone would discover her secret. Now, she embraces her story.
Dempsey, like Sullivan, engages in her work selflessly. While Dempsey still smashes scales, she doesn’t do it for herself anymore -- she does it for the strong people she’s met.
She does it for the woman who wouldn’t go to Southern Smash her first year because she was sick with her eating disorder, but by senior year, was a panelist. And she does it for so many others too.
That’s what Southern Smash is about: people realizing that the scale doesn’t control them, that they are stronger than their eating disorder, and that they are worth more than their weight.
by Katie Regittko, Social Media Coordinator
I want to say thank you before I say goodbye. So thank you. For holding my uncertainty and giving me something tangible to look at and feel some sense of control. Thank you for holding me through anxiety and fear.
You’ve held this body shaking and crying at weight gain. You’ve held this body in celebration of weight loss. I wish you could have told me that none of it ever mattered. None of it matters. Instead, you told me my relationship to gravity time and time again. I wish I could have those moments of intense sorrow—and even the joyful ones—back. To think of all I’d be able to do with that time and energy.
Scale, I’m horrified to live without you. I know the qualms about my weight will be there for a while. And I’m mad at you for that. It didn’t have to be this way. You gave me a false sense of reliability and ease. Now I can’t imagine existing without you. But I must.
Today, I broke you into a million pieces, symbolic of how you’ve shattered my life these past ten years. I know now that I don’t need to know my weight, and I hope I never have to again. I hope I can get to a place where I don’t want to know. But for now, it’s enough to know that you and I don’t exist as one anymore.
No longer yours,