“Not One More” carries a lot of impact for my communities especially. From the LGBTQIA+ aspect of my identity to being BIPoC to HoH/Deaf, I consider the intersectionality in “no more” altogether. For me, it means that we still continue to have work to do. We must continue to grow as individuals, providers, carers, health systems, and treatment centers to ensure that no more will go without a diagnosis, without treatment, and without support for lasting eating disorder recovery. This perspective comes from my lived experience of trying to get support for my eating disorder altogether.
You see, partway through middle school, I told my primary care provider about my eating disorder. I explained that I felt compelled to keep losing weight, no matter what it takes. He agreed with me. He didn’t challenge my thinking, and he didn’t say anything to my grandmother sitting in the waiting room about what I had disclosed.
So the conversation ended there….when I was fourteen.
At that age, I trusted him. I even looked up to the profession of being a medical provider so much so that I went to school for pre-med. I mean, he was a doctor, the doctor. I didn’t quite yet understand the system at play. I didn’t understand how racial bias, weight stigma, and provider bias could shape the care I received—or didn’t receive. I also didn’t understand what it meant to be insured through public assistance.
Two years later, after years of damage to my oral health, it wasn’t my doctor who recognized what was happening, it was my dentist. He noticed the decay in my mouth and named my eating disorder out loud. I was first diagnosed with binge eating disorder, then bulimia nervosa. Finally, I thought I was going to get help. That hope was unfortunately short-lived.
Public assistance repeatedly denied access to eating disorder treatment centers because they were more than two hours away or located out of state. I was also labeled a “maxed out” candidate, because too much had already been spent on my health. Around the same time, I was diagnosed as deaf in my right ear and progressively losing hearing in my left. I underwent surgery for a cochlear implant, an expensive but necessary procedure to support my disability. That medical cost, needed and necessary, harmed my chances of eating disorder care.
My grandmother and I both understood what this meant. These factors—my insurance, my disability, my prior medical costs—became barriers stacked in front of me. Not because I didn’t need care, but because the system decided I had already taken too much. It felt like hitting a roadblock with no way around it.
Luckily, I have a pretty great grandmother. Being 40 years old and willing to raise me as a single parent demonstrated how much she cared for me and also how much she would fight for me. She ensured that I got support, and I saw recovery before heading to college. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without her.
So when saying “Not One More,” I think about the work that we continue to do to ensure not one more person has to fight as hard as we did to access eating disorder diagnosis, support, and recovery. No more of this being the norm. No more.
Equip is an evidence-based eating disorder treatment program providing 100% virtual care for patients of all ages and diagnoses in all 50 states. Each patient or family is supported by a dedicated team of eating disorder experts—including a licensed therapist, registered dietitian, medical provider, and mentors with lived experience—who provide personalized, flexible care. Our providers use the leading evidence-based approaches, like FBT and CBT-E, and help address co-occurring conditions. Equip is covered by insurance and has no waitlist.