I was once trapped in a long war with food. Three years ago, while preparing for the graduate school entrance exam, the immense academic pressure overwhelmed me. At first, I coped by binge eating, but later, fearing loss of control, I completely turned food into an enemy that had to be precisely controlled. This soon escalated into an internal conflict against my own body. I calculated the calories of every meal, fell into endless self-reproach after eating, and finally resorted to vomiting to “atone.” Back then, I felt like I was split into two people: one a tyrant forcing my body to follow harsh rules, the other a starving, wronged prisoner. It wasn’t until last winter, when I suddenly fainted in the library, that my body sent its final and most direct protest.

 

When I walked into Amy’s Women Empowerment, I carried a complete “battle manual” in my mind, obsessing over “how to control my appetite more accurately.” But my friends in the organization didn’t share any tactics for control with me. Instead, they guided me to do one thing: shift from opposing food to listening to my body’s signals.

 

I started keeping an “emotion diary.” This simple act made me see the truth for the first time: what I hated was never the act of eating itself, but the version of myself who couldn’t keep up with my studies, felt imperfect, and couldn’t even control my life. This realization was the first step to pressing the pause button on my self-war.

 

Later, in the organization’s group sessions, I found the most precious companionship. In that safe, non-judgmental space, someone said she would cry for eating one extra bite of bread, and someone else shared that she had hidden in the bathroom to punish herself. Listening to their stories was like hearing an echo of my own heart. The high wall that had isolated me for so long suddenly crumbled with a “boom.” Loneliness, once the strongest fortress of my inner war, was completely dismantled by our shared vulnerability. I realized I wasn’t a freak fighting alone.

 

Even now, I’m still learning how to peacefully coexist with myself. I finally understand that true recovery is never a one-time victory, but a complete retirement from this ongoing self-war. Now, when anxiety hits, I do diaphragmatic breathing to soothe myself instead of punishing my body with vomiting; I can calmly go out for hot pot with friends, enjoying the nourishment and joy that food brings, instead of secretly counting calories. I no longer see food as an enemy, let alone myself. So, I want to use my own experience to tell you that fundamental self-acceptance is never about conquest, but about laying down your weapons, turning around, and embracing the tired yet truly authentic self you’ve been fighting against for so long. I believe that we will all find ourselves.