I don’t remember when I realized I had an eating disorder. It wasn’t when I had a journal tracking my weight every day. It wasn’t when my self harm struggles turned into punishments for eating. It wasn’t when I could barely stand up without wanting to faint. It wasn’t when I could hardly dance because I didn’t have enough energy.

I don’t think I realized I should seek help until I was out of the competitive dance world. While in dance, eating disorder culture was so ingrained in my very being that I never realized my behaviors were abnormal. Why would I be worried about having half a meal a day? That’s what all my friends were doing. Why would I be worried about counting calories? That’s what everyone else did, right?

In the dance world, disordered eating and distorted body image are as much of a fact as the sky being blue. Body perception when intersected with dance creates a dangerous crossroads that far too many people pass through. The idea of taking care of your body and mind separately and carefully flew out the window in competitive Irish dance in so many ways. It wasn’t just body image; it was continuing to dance on a broken foot because self-care was less important than winning. It was competing sick because dropping out of the competition to recuperate simply wasn’t an option. The idea of the body as a separate and important entity just didn’t exist.

Achieving a “skinny” body was an unspoken aspiration of most, if not all, of the dancers in my circles. (I am choosing to put “skinny” in quotes throughout this post because what does “skinny” even mean? It’s all so arbitrary and messed up.) We were measured for a new dress every year and constantly forced to be looking in the mirror and comparing our own bodies to the bodies around us. “Skinny” was good and everything else was less than desirable. “Skinny” meant in shape and athletic. “Skinny” almost made you a good dancer.

Now, having been out of the competitive dance circuit for about two years, I have a very different take on my body. I try to practice self-love and recognize that I can be athletic while still taking care of myself. I try to recognize that being healthy and being “skinny” are two separate ideas. However, years and years of almost indoctrination into an unhealthy mindset takes its toll and can’t just be shaken off. I still struggle daily with these ideas and fighting the part of me that still believes them. I take eating and exercising one step at a time, trying to pair them together in a healthy, constructive way.

What scares me, though, is how accepted these ideas were and still are in the dance world. Now, on the outside looking in, it’s terrifying to see young kids already developing disordered habits because it’s what they’re surrounded by. Competitive dance needs a complete redesign. It needs to cultivate self-love and appreciation for the art form you’re supposed to be enjoying, not learning to hate. Otherwise, the damage caused is unfixable.