Learning from hindsight

By MOLLY THOMPSON – mmtthompson@ucdavis.edu 

As I enter my third year at UC Davis, I can’t help but return to the memories of the early days of my first year; In fall of 2023, I fell victim to the plight of many young adults living away from home for the first time and got myself into a pretty deep eating disorder. 

While this wasn’t the first time that I’d found myself in this particular state (I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa when I was 16 years old and spent my third year of high school in recovery), I started my collegiate career extremely confident that I was beyond that part of my life and that I was no longer susceptible to the destructive habits of my high school years. Reader, I was quickly humbled. 

College can be incredibly stressful: that doesn’t come as a surprise to anyone. Between fast-paced, demanding classes, a new environment, the loss of our support systems and a rapid transition to complete independence from our families, it’s inevitable that we’re all going to need some solid coping mechanisms to deal with the pressure. And, with everything being so new all at once, it’s easy to feel lost and out of control. 

Food is something that is really easy to control when everything else is out of your hands. It’s a place you can direct your attention to when your brain is overwhelmed by responsibilities. Manipulating your body and your food feels like a tangible, accessible goal when everything else feels too vast or unattainable. Especially if it’s something you’ve dealt with in the past, eating feels like a familiar, reliable routine that you can rely on in the face of so much uncertainty — unlike everything else, it makes sense. 

Anorexia, in particular, is especially enticing because it has the additional symptom of numbing you to the harshness of the world around you and the turmoil inside your head. When you deprive yourself of sustenance, your body shuts down a lot of its nonessential functions. Your metabolism slows down (which has a lot of side effects of its own), your reproductive system might suffer, your mental cognition wanes and your emotions become subdued — you just feel less of everything. This numbness might not be something you’re aware of, but in a time of so much overwhelming anxiety and stimulation, it can feel like relief. 

Please, under no circumstances, take this as an endorsement of eating disorders. I can confidently say that the deepest points of my eating disorder were the worst times of my life. Even though I was numbing myself from other anxieties, even though I felt a sense of success from manipulating the shape of my body or the number on the scale and even though it gave me control over a small aspect of my life, it deprived me of far more than I ever gained from it. 

It took me years to relearn what my body needs and how to take care of it, skills that I was supposed to have mastered in elementary school (I’m still working on it). I permanently messed up my body in ways that I’ll never be able to fully recuperate (my metabolism will never be the same). I broke my parents’ sense of trust in me to a point that I may not be able to heal, though I’ll continue to work on it (I lied a lot). And the worst part is that I wasted so much time (days on end, if you add up all the hours) at doctors’ appointments getting my weight and vitals checked, therapy sessions recounting everything I’d eaten in a day and sitting at home, banned from exercise, while my dance teammates practiced in the studio without me. To this day I have to report my weight to my therapist every month. While it hasn’t completely stopped me from accomplishing things I’m proud of or having incredible experiences, it feels like it’s taken over the past four years of my life. 

That is my biggest regret. Anorexia plagues some of my best memories; I can look at photos from February of my third year of high school or December of my first year of college and just see this gaunt, lifeless exhaustion in my eyes. Even if it’s not visible to the people around me, it haunts those pictures (and the memories behind them) to the point where I’m not thinking of all my incredible experiences and adventures, but rather how I let food define my entire life. 

If I could change anything about my first-year experience — if I could give myself one piece of advice — I wouldn’t let myself become anorexic again. It was so hard because I felt like I was doing a good job. My therapist would call me and tell me I was still below my healthy weight baseline, and even though I would say, “Oh no, that’s not good, I’ll try harder,” it still felt like a win. 

But hindsight is 20/20, and it just wasn’t worth it. That sense of accomplishment was short-lived and inconsequential compared to the consequences (physical health, mental health, time, opportunities). Beyond that, focusing on food or body image doesn’t actually relieve any anxieties: it simply replaces them. It’s not an outlet for stress: it’s simply a redirection. It’s not a coping mechanism: it’s just a cover — the same anxiety in masquerade. It doesn’t solve anything.

I know that now. I thought I knew it then, too, but I didn’t. Even though it’s still in my head, I understand now that it’s just not worth it. It’s tempting, sometimes, to go back there. It would be so easy to slip back into those behaviors for the instant gratification of success and numbness. But I understand now that it does far more harm than good. 

College is a proverbial breeding ground for disordered eating. It’s inherently competitive, it’s overwhelming and it’s stressful — a perfect storm for unhealthy coping mechanisms. But if you take away anything from this, please learn from my mistakes. I promise you that it will cause you far more trouble than it’s worth. It’s a slippery slope — so please be careful. 

Written by: Molly Thompson — mmtthompson@ucdavis.edu 

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by individual columnists belong to the columnists alone and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie

Exploring self-awareness as a critical, underrated form of intelligence built from challenging oneself and calculating risk

By VIOLET ZANZOT— vmzanzot@ucdavis.edu

On my flight to London this past Saturday, I watched two movies, slept awkwardly and sat with my headphones on, staring at the flight tracker in an attempt to settle my nerves and ease my anticipation. About halfway through “Eat, Pray, Love,” I realized that Julia Roberts’ character and I are a lot alike: We both appreciate good food, are too pretty for our own good and are on journeys with ourselves which are motivated mainly by exposure therapy.

As a quintessential creature of habit who often finds herself in unknown environments, I have found that the juxtaposition of my comfort zone and lifestyle qualifies me to speak on the importance of trying new things.

Testing our limits every day is how we learn about ourselves and the world around us. Fears and discomforts, though often common between people, are defined only by our individual sentiments and should be explored. To avoid experiences out of fear of failure or embarrassment is to shortchange ourselves of valuable knowledge. 

Self-awareness is one of the most underrated forms of intelligence; it is to recognize the nuances, subtleties and complexities of the relationships we have with ourselves. In this way, self-awareness is an ongoing process to understand why we are the way we are, how we operate in response to the world and how we can appreciate that the definitions and identities of things are ever-changing.

In challenging ourselves, we force confrontations — with ourselves. Choosing to embrace what we learn connects us to a deeper understanding of ourselves. For instance, I had a friend recently tell me she knew some of her feelings were irrational, and thus her boyfriend’s response to an argument was justifiable. She went on to explain that her prior life experiences had led her to have a tendency to overreact to things. 

As I told her (and now you, with my only credentials being earned through lived experience and a few years studying social science), her awareness of herself not only allowed her to control her response to the situation, but to understand the issue from his perspective. Self-awareness and the power to control one’s own mind provides not only protection from the outside world, but also an ability to empathize and sympathize with others — a trait that is often lost when one can not even understand themselves. 

Self-awareness, like many others, is a skill that is built on numerous encounters with cold, hard truths and often troubling realities. We can learn from the team that’s down in a match — the loser has several options: hail mary, play simple, accept defeat or strategize. When the final whistle blows, they’ll have learned something. 

When we touch a hot stove, we learn it burns. When we face challenges, we learn how we react to them. We gain this invaluable skill — self-awareness — by consciously working our way through life and letting its challenges be lessons.

Moving to a school so far from home was terribly hard for me. I didn’t see the struggle coming, but apparently it’s not always easy to cope with being so far from everything I’ve ever known. I learned very quickly that the one person you can never escape is yourself. I learned a whole lot of other stuff too, but only because I first realized the most important relationship I needed to foster was the one I had with little old me. We are stuck together. 

Often, I wondered why my life felt like nothing more than a never-ending series of exposure therapy sessions. Only from learning to appreciate the importance of this process did that pain alleviate. To know oneself is to understand the world — to calculate risks, to empathize, to understand one’s own position in a vast world and, of course, to be one’s own dinner date.

Written by: Violet Zanzot— vmzanzot@ucdavis.edu

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by individual columnists belong to the columnists alone and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie.

The paradoxical burden and beauty of femininity

By NEVAEH KARRAKER — nakarraker@ucdavis.edu

Approximately one in three women globally have experienced some form of sexual assault or abuse in their lifetime (not including sexual harassment), according to the World Health Organization and the United Nations Women. Women make up the majority of the population of domestic violence or rape victims, while men are usually the perpetrators. 

For years, the fact that women have been reduced to sexual objects or profitable entities has been glossed over by culture. It’s a luxury for us to feel safe walking alone at night — to be unconcerned for our well-being when choosing a romantic partner and to make platonic male friends with ease.

While it is the 21st century and women have the right to vote, the institutional framework of society has hardly progressed when it comes to earning an education and avoiding being scorned if marriage and childbirth is not our top priority.

The odds seem to always be stacked against women when it comes to clothing, education, relationships and even basic health. There are isolating standards, like the lack of pockets in women’s clothing — omitted in order to accentuate their silhouettes and simultaneously encourage the purchase of accessories beginning in the 1950s — and the shaving expectations created as a Gillette marketing strategy. In terms of health, examples include the “pink tax” for essential feminine hygiene products, car safety features based on typical male anatomy, physicians repeatedly ignoring serious symptoms and more research being conducted on male baldness (an inconsequential condition in men) than endometriosis (a highly serious condition in women): These are just a few of the many shocking instances of this double standard. 

A huge contribution to this undermining of feminine issues is the societal emphasis on gender roles, which is imparted on most of us from childhood. In an attempt to implement equality, oftentimes extremes are taken. There has yet to be a balance for healthy patriarchy and humble femininity, which has resulted in a surge of toxic masculinity, the coddling of violent young men and the normalization of women overly-sexualizing themselves. 

Femininity is not just about being delicate and pretty, but the personhood bestowed to women. It is believed that Eve was created from Adam’s rib, implying that despite the beautiful distinctions between men and women, they both have equal value, as value is not determined by order of creation. The divine beauty of women points beyond themselves instead of towards themselves; it is not vanity or pride, but an effortless display of nurturing and powerful compassion. 

It’s these inherent qualities that make a traditional family flourish. Choosing such a life is not oppressive; In fact, true feminism is about the freedom to decide whether or not to pursue it. This design demonstrates a deep harmony between the sexes. Women embody immanence — flipping the ordinary with newfound love and passion — while men embody transcendence through ambitious pursuit and leadership. This does not mean one sex can’t harbor characteristics of the other — women can also be zealous and men can also be tender — but the neurological components are sacredly complimentary. 

This is often reflected in the relationships we have with one another — platonic and romantic. There is one main thing that we desire to fulfill in our lifetimes: connection with others. Women do not need men, but it is a blessing to have a partner and an even greater blessing to have a friend. 

When you’re young and have a crush, as a girl you would usually speak to your girl friends, as they understand and can give you advice. As you age, it’s important to maintain friendships like that with the same sex so you can continue to guide and support each other.

Now, this does not mean men and women are incapable of having healthy friendships. But the needs of each other don’t always overlap outside of intimacy; love is expressed in different ways. As a result, the contrasting displays of affection and the way it’s perceived clashes, leading to unfavorable misunderstandings about intentions. Women are affectionate with one another in a way that men often are not, and men are valiant in a way that women often are not. This diversity should be accepted and praised, as it allows for profound bonds.

Overall, even with so much oppression against women, there is something so alluring and special about femininity. We are generous yet self-sufficient, delicate yet voracious, graceful yet demanding, passionate yet regulated and the faintest things unspoken — it can only be experienced and described as “girlhood.”
I implore you to fully embrace your masculinity or femininity. It is not something to be ashamed of or concealed, it is certainly not just a reflection of objectified genitals; Rather, it’s a precious quality that should be handled with such care, as it adds to the intricate, colorful mosaic of life.

Written by: Nevaeh Karraker—nakarraker@ucdavis.edu

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by individual columnists belong to the columnists alone and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie.