Charger Blogger ‘Gets Real’ About Health and Wellness
Beatrice Glaviano ’26 offers an honest discussion about her own wellness, sharing her fears and offering transparency and support.
April 23, 2024
By Beatrice Glaviano ’26
Does anyone ever just sort of lay on the floor, listen to Coldplay’s old music, and contemplate life?
Well, welcome to “Late Night Talks,” an I-have-no-clue-if-this-will-continue series that I’m establishing at 11 p.m. for no real reason.
In this article, we’re going to be getting real. Filthy, disturbingly real. If that’s not your jam, then, hey, man, change the playlist a bit – I’ll be helping myself to peanut butter and an apple in the meantime.
Because this blog thrives on being one that’s transparent, I’m going to be honest with all of you and key you in on what’s been happening in my life.
From a health standpoint, I’m basically on the verge of going outpatient for eating disorder therapy.
Yeah, the nutritional sciences student doesn’t know how to be a normal person when it comes to eating. Ironic, isn’t it? At least, I think it is.
Author sighs, looking into her tea and stirring it.
I’m terrified.
I cried for hours. I’ve never been so scared of something in my entire life, even though I know it would be for my benefit, even if I can’t see it. I’m so close to ending the school year, passing my NREMT (National Registry of Emergency Medical Technicians), and getting a job as an EMT at the place where I’ve been volunteering at. It feels unfair, really, but life is never going to be fair no matter what card you play.
I preach being okay with your body and honoring change, but I can never find it in myself to do that for myself. I have never truly liked my body. All the morphing in the mirror to look pretty or worrying about the cellulite rippling on my legs. I’ve been out of the gym for months now, and even though I can see that I’ve started to heal physically and mentally, it’s disheartening.
I was really, really strong at one point. Now I feel like a piece of overcooked spaghetti with a paintbrush and a laptop. Like ????
I might as well be an academic butterknife at this point.
Author drums her fingers on her desk.
What else has happened? Hm...Oh, well, I stayed up for thirty-eight hours straight. I got off of the overnight I’d worked, had therapy (of which I was dropped the outpatient bomb of death), organic chemistry lab meeting thingy, and then studied for a few hours. Wise move? Maybe not. But, it happened. Testing those limits are fun sometimes, except when your therapist is clearly upset at you. The calls I’d gotten that night weren’t super bad, really, but they’re nothing I’d want to go through at an older age.
Speaking of old age, did anyone else turn eighteen and then have their hips start acting up? Or a knee. Or their ankle. Or like, all of that.
I’ll try bending down at work and I look like a 40-year-old suburban father who doesn’t salt his chicken before putting it into the pan. You know what I’m talking about.
(To all 40-year-old suburban dads who don’t salt their chicken out there, I’m sorry but you need to educate yourself on the power of seasoning.)
Whatever the case, being a dorm dweller for most of the winter was not a fantabulous decision on my part, so I’m trying to scoot around campus as much as possible.
If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder and/or mental health concern, we are here to support you. Campus resources are available, free, and confidential.