Students Speak: All I Wanted to Do Was Dance — and Then I Developed an Eating Disorder

Dancing has always been my passion. From a young age, I was enamored with the graceful movements and expressive nature of dance. I spent countless hours in the studio, perfecting my technique and striving to become the best dancer I could be. However, as I got older and entered the competitive dance world, my love for dance slowly turned into a toxic obsession with my body.

I remember the first time someone commented on my weight. It was a casual remark from a fellow dancer, meant as a passing comment. But those words struck a chord within me. I started to scrutinize my body, comparing it to the other girls in my dance class. I began to feel insecure and self-conscious, constantly worrying about how I looked in my leotard and tights.

As the pressure to be thin in the dance world intensified, I started restricting my food intake. I convinced myself that in order to become a better dancer, I needed to be thin. I skipped meals, counted every calorie, and obsessively weighed myself. I was consumed by the desire to have a “dancer’s body” — even if it meant sacrificing my health and well-being in the process.

My eating disorder quickly spiraled out of control. I would spend hours at the gym, pushing myself to exhaustion in an attempt to burn off the few calories I allowed myself to consume. I became fixated on my body image, constantly seeking validation and approval from others. I was trapped in a vicious cycle of self-destructive behaviors, unable to break free from the grip of my eating disorder.

It wasn’t until I collapsed during a dance rehearsal that I realized the extent of the damage I had done to my body. I was rushed to the hospital, where I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. It was a wake-up call, a harsh reminder of the toll that my eating disorder had taken on my physical and mental health.

Recovery was not easy. It was a long and arduous process, filled with setbacks and challenges. But with the support of my family, friends, and treatment team, I slowly began to heal. I learned to love and accept my body, regardless of its size or shape. I rediscovered my passion for dance, not as a means to achieve a certain body type, but as a form of self-expression and joy.

Today, I am grateful for the journey that led me to recovery. I have come to realize that my worth as a dancer — and as a person — is not determined by the number on the scale. I am more than just a body; I am a dancer, a dreamer, a fighter. And I refuse to let my eating disorder define me any longer.

To all the dancers out there who may be struggling with their body image or eating habits, know that you are not alone. Reach out for help, talk to someone you trust, and know that recovery is possible. Your worth is not measured by the size of your waist or the shape of your thighs. You are beautiful, talented, and deserving of love and happiness. Dance for yourself, dance for the sheer joy of movement, and remember that you are enough, just as you are.