Maybe I Do Have an Eating Disorder. Just not the one people think.

Every now and then someone tells me, “You know… I think you have an unhealthy relationship with food.” Sometimes they say it with concern. Sometimes with judgment. Sometimes while eating a croissant they didn’t even enjoy. I usually laugh. “Yeah…” “Maybe I do.”

That tends to confuse people. Because they expect me to defend myself. Instead…I think they’re asking the wrong question.

People often think eating disorders are about food. I don’t. I think they’re about control. Anorexia isn’t just about eating less. Bulimia isn’t just about throwing food back up. Binge eating isn’t just about eating more. The food is often just the symptom. The control is the addiction. The moment someone feels: “Finally… I have control over something.” I understand that feeling. Probably more than most people realize.

At one moment my own body felt like it belonged to someone else.

Pain.

Brain fog.

Fatigue.

Hormones.

Random symptoms.

Blood tests.

Every appointment seemed to end with another person telling me what was happening… while nobody could explain why. You slowly stop trusting your own body. And maybe even yourself.

Then I found carnivore.

Not because I hated food. Not because I wanted to be skinny. Not because someone on the internet told me steak would fix my life. Because I was desperate to feel like… me again. Here’s the funny part. People think the control is what I eat. It isn’t. The control is that I finally know how I feel. When I wake up. When I sleep. When my brain works. When my hormones behave. When my body says, “Thank you.” That’s the feeling I became addicted to.

Not steak.

Not bacon.

Not butter.

Feeling good.

So… Do I have an eating disorder? Maybe. If choosing food that makes me feel healthy… instead of food that makes me feel sick… counts as a disorder. Then sure. I’ll wear that label. Happily!

But here’s the difference. Fear doesn’t make my choices. Freedom does. I don’t panic when someone eats pizza. I don’t judge someone eating cake. I don’t spend my day counting calories. I simply eat the foods that gave me my life back. That’s not fear. That’s gratitude.

Maybe the real question isn’t,

“Why are you so strict?”

Maybe it’s,

“Why do we question people who finally found something that works?”

I don’t expect everyone to eat like me. Honestly…

I don’t even want that.

I just hope more people become curious enough to ask, “How do you feel?” Instead of, “When are you going to eat bread again?” Because one question comes from judgment. The other comes from genuine interest.

And those two things couldn’t be more different.