Along the way, I’ve had the incredible opportunity to connect with men around the world who stand with me in the fight against stigma and stereotypes. I’ve built friendships with men as far away as the UK and New Zealand who have also experienced eating disorders and mental health issues.
With every word we share, I grow one step closer to trusting men again. Each conversation is one giant leap closer to finding comfort in sharing my authentic self.
The thing I’ve realized is that men need other men to set an example. I see this all of the time at my speaking events. After I share my story, at least one or two guys will come up and share their story with me. The day after my book came out, I started hearing from men across the country who finally felt like they could speak up.
This leads me back to the words I shared at the start of this entry: I’ve never felt this seen or heard before.
Earlier this year, my mission led me to a role at ANAD. One of the first things I wanted to bring to the organization was a men’s support group. I wanted a place where men could heal together. Not just from their eating disorder but from the stigma in general. For many of us, it’s a learning experience. We have to tap into parts of our mind and heart that we’ve closed off or suppressed since childhood.
In May, we launched the organization’s first free, peer-led support group for men. I facilitate our bi-weekly meetings with a friend I’ve met along our roads to recovery. Our friendship is a true testament to the importance of being able to see a reflection of yourself in someone else.
My anxiety was racing heading into the first support group. How will this go? Will anybody share? Will anybody show up?
The anxiety eased as a diverse group of men from all backgrounds came together and supported each other. That first evening felt like we demolished the walls of the “comfort” zones societal and gender norms placed on us at birth.
I may have been the one facilitating the group that evening but those 75 minutes surrounded by these strong vulnerable men brought healing, comfort, and hope. A few weeks later one attendee would share the words that had reverberated in my mind too: I’ve never felt this seen or heard before.
Words that serve as a reminder that men need more of these types of safe places where we no longer feel invisible to the eating disorder community, to the world, or to ourselves.