Meant to be, not made to last

New York City reminds me of heartbreak.

It’s a long story about a short relationship--too short to merit such a long, lingering heartbreak but dating just be like that sometimes.

The day things fell apart is the same day I was going to book a flight to visit him. Timely. I had a tab open on my laptop with all the flight details ready to go, my cursor hovering over “complete booking.”

Well freak, do I still go? The travel dates worked perfectly with my schedule, I was excited to see other dear friends and relive the east coast in the fall... but I wasn’t sure I could stomach it.

Would every subway ride and slice of pizza and couple holding hands in Central Park just exacerbate the sadness and hurt I already felt? We had just broken up. I wanted to be as far away from him as possible--both emotionally and physically--yet I was about to book a flight to the city he had told me so much about and stay at a friend’s apartment two blocks away from his.

I didn’t know if I could do it.

Suddenly, I remembered staring at my laptop two and a half years prior when I had faced a similar gut and heart-wrenching decision, but worse.

I had dated someone during my recruiting season for accounting. Things with him had been going really well--so well that moving to Seattle after graduation didn’t feel as right as it had before. (Graduation was still 2 years down the road but the accounting program really expected us greenies to make life plans that far in advance 🙃) So there we were.

At the time, the most logical assumption was that our relationship would continue on its good, happy trajectory so I decided to recruit in two cities: Seattle, where I had planned to be, and Salt Lake City, where he would be. After a couple months of applications, interviews, and traveling to the firms, I narrowed things down to 2 firms I loved, one in each city.

As it turns out, everything fell apart the week I had to make my internship decision. So timely.

There I was on my couch, laptop open, eyelids swollen from a week of crying, my cursor hovering over the acceptance button of my internship offers. Ironically, even after taking him out of the equation and isolating all the other decision factors, I was still leaning towards the firm in Salt Lake.

But I didn’t know if I could do it.

Would every trax ride and hike up the canyon and couple holding hands around temple square just exacerbate the pain and longing I felt? I wanted to be as far away from him as possible yet I was about to pursue my career in the city closest to him.

I didn’t know if I could do it.

HOW DID WE GET HERE? How was something so good and so fun ending like this? I closed my eyes and transported myself back to that January night when he had knocked on my door for our first date.

“I wish I had never answered the door. I wish I’d never gotten in his car and heard New Light by John Mayer playing in the background and never shared that stupid dessert or talked about Oregon and Jerusalem... I wish I’d never met him.”

That night, there was no way in my mind that it had been meant to be if it wasn’t meant to last. There must have been some mistake along the way--some sign or prompting I had missed that said:

WARNING: DO NOT PROCEED. THIS ROAD ENDS IN HEARTBREAK LIKE YOU’VE NEVER KNOWN.

But I never got a warning sign. Why didn’t I get a warning sign??? I wanted to rewind everything, never answer the door, and spare myself the pain.

Tonight, that’s not how I feel.

Both of those decision points, two years apart, became pivotal moments for me.

I booked the flight to New York and I accepted the offer in Salt Lake. I had the time of my LIFE in New York (the people, the weather, the bagels, the dance party in Brooklyn, I could go on) and I LOVED my internship in Salt Lake (whose coworkers play Secret Hitler every day at lunch??). The cities I had once dreaded because they were punch-in-the-gut reminders of heartbreak became cities I love with beautiful new memories.

I probably would’ve never ended up in either city if it weren’t for those boys. So in a way, I have them to thank, not to mention all the experiences shared and lessons learned during our relationships (heartbreak and all) that shaped my current self.

“We were meant to be, just not made to last.

I don’t wanna keep you waiting,

it’s not as simple as a yes or no, it’s kinda complicated.

But I would leave a 5-star review, ten out of ten,

recommend you to a friend, if I could.

Cause I think you’re the one for someone else

and that sh*t’s hard to say but it’s okay,

you feel the same and I can tell.

It’s hard to leave us in the past

but perfect’s just a lot to ask.

We’re meant to be, not made to last.”

^ this song dropped the DAY BEFORE my trip and I don’t believe in coincidences. Thank you @heythereitsber and @charlieoriain.

It’s hard to admit that your ex is the one for someone else and it’s hard to say goodbye to something you thought was made to last.

But I’ve realized that it can be both.

Both meant to be, and not made to last ❤️

My worst breakup was with diet culture

A couple years ago, I was dating this guy (not diet culture, a real guy lol) and I could tell something was off so one day I was like “hey, if there’s ever anything bothering you about me or us, just tell me. I want us to be completely honest with each other.”

He’s like “okay, here’s something... I don’t like how you play Secret Hitler.” (a board game, for those who may not be familiar)

.... “sorry, what?”

“I don’t like the version of you that comes out when we play Secret Hitler.”

I thought he had to be kidding but as it turns out, homeboy really couldn’t handle how competitive I was and we broke up shortly thereafter (for that and other, more important reasons haha).

All jokes aside though, even my breakup with my fascist ex-boyfriend did not come close to how bad THIS breakup was:

my breakup with diet culture.

Let me take you on a little journey of diet culture and I’s relationship, starting 10 years ago with...

The Early Dating Phase:

I remember the day super vividly. It was a Saturday. I was 15. The day I started my period. I remember driving to my ballet rehearsal and silently vowing that I would never let it happen again, or at least that I would delay the next period as long as possible. This totally irrational but fierce resolution stemmed from messages I had internalized from my peers and my environment growing up. Comments like:

“You’ll start your period later if you’re an athlete and don’t have a lot of body fat” and “if you just exercise a lot and don’t eat as much, you won’t have to deal with a regular period.”

And so it began.

What started as just trying to eat “healthier” and cut back on sweets became tracking everything I ate and skipping meals. What started as an effort to just lose a little bit of weight became an obsessive fixation with changing my body. This was my junior and senior year of high school. What should have been some of the most fun, care-free years of my life quickly turned into my own, personal, living hell. And that’s

When Things Got Serious:

My freshman year at BYU is when I hit an all-time low. During that year, I had this habit of going on runs in the middle of the night as part of my compulsive exercise and weight loss regimen. I’d start at my dorm at Helaman Halls, run down to Lavell Edwards Stadium and then up a neighborhood street to the Provo temple and back around to my dorm. At the time, the neighborhood street didn’t have street lights. It was pitch black. I remember not even being able to see one step in front of me. Obviously, looking back it was wildly dangerous that an 18 year old girl was doing that by herself at 1am, but that was far from my mind at the time. I would have never admitted it then, but I was in the trenches of a full-blown eating disorder.

The cycle went like this: I would set extreme weight loss goals, restrict my food intake and exercise compulsively until my mind and body were so weak I couldn’t think straight, and then I would binge. A lot. For a long time. Bingeing would inevitably lead to feelings of deep, deep shame and failure which would have me setting new goals and the cycle would go on, and on, and on. I was trapped. And while I blamed myself, I’ve since learned that diet culture was to blame.

Now, when I say “diet culture” I’m not just referring to the diet industry and its hundreds of diet companies. I’m referring to the BELIEF SYSTEM that they promote: it’s this idea that weight loss and thinness equate to health, beauty, and success.

While I never actually subscribed to a conventional diet program, I was totally subscribed to that belief system and, unfortunately, I had evidence to support it.

During my chaotic eating disorder cycle, my weight fluctuated. One time, I was approached by someone with concern over the weight gain. Months later, when I had lost weight, I got subtle but unmistakable positive attention from others around me. They had no idea--no idea that I had an eating disorder and no idea that they were also subscribed to this fatphobic belief that smaller is better. Since I didn't get the chance to say it then, I'll say it now:

She hears you.

I was only 17, but I heard the message loud and clear.

Who profits off that message?? I’ll give you a hint: it’s not you or me.

The diet industry is a $70 billion industry. It’s a business. They care a lot more about making a profit than they do our health. You would think that with numbers like that, the product must be wildly successful, too... but here’s the reality. Studies show that 95% of dieters will regain all of the weight back plus more in 1-5 years, not to mention the negative health effects of weight cycling. So they’re making $70 billion a year with a 5% success rate and when it doesn’t work long term, guess who takes the blame? Not them--not the PRODUCT-- it’s us.

It’s a sneaky and corrupt system and quite the toxic boyfriend, if you ask me.

Now, before I incite a full-out war against diet culture (which I’m planning on), let me tell you why this is so personal for me:

Dieting is the #1 predictor of eating disorders.

No, not all diets will lead to eating disorders. But nearly all eating disorders come from diet culture.

I saw this firsthand when I worked at Center for Change, an eating disorder treatment center in Orem, this past year. I worked with moms, teens, students, athletes, military personnel, grandmothers, women of all ages, backgrounds, and body sizes. Just a few months ago, I was sitting at the dining room table with a 13 year old girl who was refusing to eat. As I sat next to her, she lifted up her shirt, pointed at her stomach and said,

“I would rather die than have tummy rolls.”

My heart broke. I don’t blame that sweet girl or her friends or her instagram or her TikTok, I blame DIET CULTURE. And if war is what’s necessary to protect her and every other 13 year old girl afraid of tummy rolls, then to war I will go.

Which leads me to...

The Breakup:

So, how did I get out of the longest and most toxic relationship of my life? It was roughly a 5-step process. I hope that as I’m going through these, it will get you thinking about your own relationship with food and your body.

#1 It freaking sucked.

Breakups in general suck. I know you guys know. But this one was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. It would be like breaking up with someone and trying to move on when everything around you is telling you to get back together. Not only did I not just magically stop wanting to be skinner, but the culture continued to tell me that I should be. It took a long time to deconstruct that in my brain, but it was so worth it. If you’re also going through a breakup of sorts with the diet culture belief system, give yourself some grace. This is going to take time.

#2 Therapy is cool.

There is no setting where I have learned more about myself than therapy. It is the coolest. I’ve had so many breakthrough moments in therapy but let me share just one of them. It’s a quote that my therapist showed me years ago:

“And I said to my body softly: I want to be your friend. It let out a long sigh and replied: I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”

Viewing my body and myself as two separate entities rebuilding a relationship with one another was an absolute game-changer for me.

#3 Ditch the scale.

I used to work out at the women’s gym in the Richards building on campus. There’s a scale in the gym and I would notice girls weighing themselves before, during, and after workouts. I debated stealing the scale and throwing it in a dumpster... but instead, I settled with pasting a sticky note to it:

If you have ever been emotionally affected by the number you see on the scale, then it’s likely that your sense of health and/or worth is attached to your weight. It’s time to notice that and start to challenge it.

#4 Intuitive eating.

How many of you have seen labeling like this on food packaging: “guilt-free” “clean” “skinny” “low-calorie”? Or have heard phrases and comments like these: “cheat meal”, “temptation”, “gotta work out to make up for that burger” or “I’m so bad for eating this brownie.”

This is diet culture in action.

At best, this messaging suggests that certain foods should be labeled as good/bad and at worst, it suggests that WE are good or bad based on what we eat, setting us up to feel the kind of guilt and shame that marks a disordered relationship with food.

So how do we combat this? Enter: intuitive eating. It’s a book that I would HIGHLY recommend but the short of it is this: we can trust our own bodies. We don’t need food rules or diets to tell us what and how much and when to eat. We can trust our own bodies. I didn’t believe this concept for a second when my dietitian brought it up to me the first time but experience proved me wrong. Intuitive eating changed my life.

#5 You are not alone.

Last year, I started a project called ED stories on instagram. Essentially, I collect personal stories from people who have struggled with disordered eating and body image. In the first year, I received over 120 stories from people, men and women, all over the world. All those years when I felt like I was the only one...turns out, I was never alone. And you aren’t either. If you’re wondering if something might be up in your relationship with food and your body, it’s definitely worth exploring.

If you need someone to talk to about it or resources to get started, I’m here. I’m also here on social media: @christine.parks @ed__stories

Moving On:

So it’s over. Diet culture and I are so done and we are never, ever getting back together.

Since breaking up with diet culture, I’ve had a lot more time and energy for all the other relationships in my life, especially one that I had neglected for a really, really long time.

It’s the relationship that’s been around the longest and that will be around the longest. Come what may, breaking up is actually, literally, not an option. We’re in this for the long haul.

My body & I.

As if He didn't create both

 

We were driving down a highway in Alaska alongside some of the most massive, beautiful mountains when my cousin Kathryn pointed to some of the grooves winding down the mountain and said

“it’s like nature’s stretch marks.”

I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

We marvel at the marks left on mountains as they’re stretched

by seasons

and wind

and melting snow

and then we try to erase the marks and layers left on our own bodies by their own

seasons

and hardship

and growth.

As if He didn’t create both.

Since that trip, I can’t drive along the Wasatch Front without stealing glances at Lady Timp and her sister peaks.

I see stretch marks and prickly trees, thick boulders and thin streams. Layers of history and beauty that have been a sacred refuge for so many, especially me.

Emotional, I come home and enter my room to see my tall, gold-rimmed mirror. I get closer and I see her; stretch marks and prickly legs, thick thighs and thin hair. Layers that have carried me through a beautiful life of

breathing

moving

growing

and loving.

And I wonder— if I treated her with the same reverence and awe that I do Lady Timp, what kind of peace could be mine?

Could she become the kind of sacred refuge to me that Lady Timp is for travelers, begging to spend time with her?

We marvel at the marks left on mountains as they’re stretched

by seasons

and wind

and melting snow

and then we try to erase the marks and layers left on our own bodies by their own

seasons

and hardship

and growth.

As if He didn’t create both.