Finding Strength in the Struggle: Hodaya's Battle with Anorexia

When Hodaya first walked into the psychologist's office in the eating disorder ward, she poured out tears she hadn't shed for two years. "I told her how helpless my husband felt and that my two little girls needed a functioning mom. I knew I was trapped in a prison of my own making, and only I could free myself," recalls Hodaya. This marked the start of her hospitalization for an eating disorder. Throughout those dark days, Hodaya prayed constantly. "Every moment was a battle — not to vomit, to eat everything, and even try to enjoy food. It was a fight for sanity, for life, and after a hard struggle, I came out a winner." Hodaya conquered anorexia only about a year ago. Her journey into and out of the illness wasn't easy. The plummet into the perilous depths of extreme thinness threatened to swallow her whole. Yet, she never gave up. With unwavering faith in Hashem and the strength placed within her, she overcame the crisis. Now, she shares her story to empower other girls enduring this nightmare and their families. "It's important people understand how crucial it is to listen to the soul and nourish it correctly," she emphasizes. "Mom, It's Food!" From an early age, Hodaya had a complex relationship with her body's reflection. "I was the chubby one in the family — not fat, but chubby," she explains. "Finding clothes to suit my body was tough, and I envied my skinny little sister. Conversations about my eating habits came up occasionally, and my mom was keen on moderate eating. At just ten, I attempted little-girl diets, working slightly. By eighth grade, I feared gaining more weight, afraid I wouldn't marry. I never loved myself, and clearly, I couldn't love if I kept gaining weight." The major blow to her body image came a year after her first daughter's birth. "I weighed 160 pounds and began to loathe myself. Knowing I loved to eat and couldn't stick to a diet, I prayed deep inside to lose forty pounds in a month, willing to get sick if necessary. A trip to Uman with my husband had me praying to Hashem to fall ill and shed those extra pounds. Back home, I felt toxic coursing through me. If I ate even a little, it felt like the end of the world." Joining a gym marked the start of her descent. "I began small, but months later, I was hitting the gym five times a week, three times a day," she recalls shakily. Her diet whittled down to salad and rice cakes, gradually cutting even that. Despite realizing my irrational state, losing ten pounds in a month gave me immense joy and satisfaction. I thanked Hashem for every gram lost and prayed for more. Eventually, I decided to purge what I ate, avoiding any weight gain. At events, I seemed to eat normally, but would quickly head to the restroom to purge. Eventually, I subsisted on two dates and nuts daily, consumed with fear. Within three months, I shed the dreaded forty pounds, transformed into a red-eyed woman, weak-bodied, and losing hair. I was always cold, patience with my toddler gone, and life’s zest vanished. "What about your husband, didn't he notice?" "My husband saw I wasn't eating and knew something was off, but he was young and inexperienced, unsure how to handle it. It wasn't easy for him, and my madness strained our relationship, but neither of us knew the term 'anorexia' or comprehended the severe mental issue at play. We never thought of seeking professional help; he trusted I could overcome it." Her insane state persisted. "I needed to weigh myself daily to track any loss, turning the neighborhood upside down at my in-laws' for a scale. I feared drinking water, irrationally believing it’d lead to weight gain. After losing forty pounds, I set lower weight goals, obsessed with food, weight, and body image all day. Miraculously, Hodaya became pregnant again. "I was thrilled, understanding my issue within and hoping the pregnancy would prompt me to eat and escape my dark place," she shares. Yet, the fear of gaining weight overpowered me, incapable of watching my belly swell. By then, no meal stayed down, plagued by severe nausea and involuntary vomiting. Miraculously, nine months later, our healthy daughter was born. "How about your extended family, did they grasp the situation?" "My mom urged me to eat, and I actually ate around her. But I secretly purged everything, eluding her understanding of the full gravity. Eventually, she trailed me and caught my intentional purging, which I blamed on pregnancy, denying her claims. My parents remained uneasy but didn't know the term 'anorexia' either, unable to help. I also had a personal trainer then, which outwardly seemed great. Despite the trainer's attempts to help, my food phobia remained stronger." Standing on Death's Door After childbirth, Hodaya recognized she far surpassed reasonable dieting bounds and sought normal food consumption. Yet, her mental state was beyond her control. "I stopped purging temporarily, convincing everyone of my recovery, then relapsed after gaining their trust," she recalls. "I couldn't tolerate my parents' remarks, convincing my husband to move far away. We found a large, spacious home, but therein lay the worst nightmare. For a year, I purged, my throat bleeding. I looked dreadful, with dark circles under my eyes and pulled-out hair beneath my headscarf. The once-concealed secret surfaced outwardly, impossible to hide anymore. "Relatives pleaded, urging me to eat, underscoring the normalcy. Others grew angry, not understanding how I allowed myself into such a miserable state. One day, my uncle’s wife shared a story about an anorexic girl she knew, who spiraled irreparably, vomiting automatically and dying at eighty pounds. Meanwhile, my parents solemnly warned if I continued, my family might break apart, my daughters put in foster care, and I might end up in a psychiatric hospital. But they failed to understand that I needed outside help; the harsh reality was beyond my control. The turning point came that year's Passover. "I implored Hashem for recovery. I yearned to eat like everyone else, without fear, and cried my heart out," reminisces Hodaya. "A few weeks later, I asked my parents if I could move in with them, realizing I couldn’t manage my household or myself anymore and needed help. Hearing this, my husband broke down crying, yet I was too drained even to feel his pain. I moved to my parents' home, where they tried to assist me, but every mention of eating triggered panic attacks. I fainted occasionally, until another anorexic mother advised swift hospital action, warning, 'Hurry to the hospital; you're about to die.' "Did you agree to go?" "Absolutely, and I was even relieved, yearning for salvation. But the hospital simply checked me, declared low health metrics, and sent me home. Returning to my room broken, I cried for help, deciding then the appropriate place was the eating disorder ward. Admission required women willing to seek help and endure stringent conditions, and I was desperate enough to comply. Meeting the ward's psychologist, Hodaya learned she'd face an extended hospitalization. "It frightened me, yet I thanked Hashem a spot opened. Sadly, this matter isn't a state priority; many women wait months for admission. Weeks earlier, I forced myself to cease vomiting, proving a major feat still indicating some control over my body. In the ward, Hodaya witnessed shocking scenes. "Women wander lifeless, tube-fed, eating only after sobbing and yelling. Suddenly, I realized I was one of them, and for the first time, understood how terrible I looked. The ward's strict rules entailed punctual attendance at four meals or enduring a repulsive meal-replacement drink and two hours of post-meal supervision in a large room. We were banned from discussing food, body, or weight, barred from mirrors, and provided regular emotional support sessions. Weight gain granted me a pass to spend Shabbat at home but required punctual return. Strict boundaries were maintained, with no concessions. "Was the ward experience challenging for you?" "I struggled, yearning to go home, but a rabbi encouraged me to endure and not concede. I saw women who’d had respectable careers hit rock bottom, painfully discovering who among us had succumbed to the illness, opting out of the ward or worse, passing. It was a fierce internal battle, where I constantly pleaded with Hashem. I knew I had to stay strong; dancing to music sometimes helped, believing I'd return to a regular life." Eventually, a light glimmered at the tunnel's end. "I started regaining weight, a monumental victory. Yet ward voices proclaimed an irremediable condition — at best, a partial recovery. Facing such despair, I prayed and pleaded with Hashem. I longed to eat, even savoring it, though still grappling with body image. "How did you change your perception towards your body?" "Accepting myself was the shift, reminding myself that Hashem made me this way, hence it's best for me. I asked, what was I fighting — against Hashem's will? Realizing this fight led me nowhere good; daily, I reinforce this thought. After 22 years accustomed to loathing my body, change doesn’t happen overnight. Regarding eating — who doesn’t love food? Once I understood that food isn’t an enemy, affection towards it returned naturally. Hodaya continued to battle for her sanity. "I refused psychiatric medication, fighting every panic attack with faith in my ability. I documented my experiences daily and, more importantly, prayed tearfully for hours. Hashem heard my prayers, and within just two months, I reached a healthy weight. At that point, Hodaya was told she could return home. "It sounded joyous, yet I feared re-entering normal life and relapsing. Home held memories of purging, hunger, frustration, and fights. On my return day, everyone celebrated, but I sat and cried. I moved to my parents', still incapable of self-management, forced to confront it. I recall Shabbat, taking my daughters to the playground, and while they played, I found myself contemplating whether to revert to being slim. The mental battles were indescribable. "Grateful for Every Bite" Despite all this, Hodaya refused to surrender. "I remember vacationing with my husband's family, dining with them, and even enjoying it. That was another achievement — rejoicing in food instead of viewing it as a foe. I was still eating from a structured menu, but no longer feared eating. Gradually resuming life, rebuilding family relationships, and undergoing therapy to confront my buried pain. My hair regrew, the dark eyes faded, and I became lively again, with joy in my heart. "Did anything grow within you through this ordeal?" "Absolutely. Before everything, I often complained, but now see that I received this trial to appreciate life. During hospitalization, I missed my husband and kids intensely, realizing every day with them is significant. Additionally, I recognize the importance of acknowledging and addressing our emotions. My childhood’s unhealthy sprouts grew into a slippery slope, nearly irretrievable. So, I understand the importance of recognizing those feelings and providing the appropriate response. I'm learning to listen to myself and give my soul what it needs. "Do you fear returning to that place one day?" "I carried this fear for a time, but not anymore. I endured so much there; there's no chance I'll return to that nightmare. Besides, I feel Hashem didn't intend for me to languish in long-term illness but rather opened a new perspective on life. In the depths of battling for existence, it wasn't an anorexia struggle, but a faith war. It was daily combat over my faith in my abilities, bolstering myself and others in the ward throughout. "What message do you have for those in this situation and their loved ones?" "First, know that anyone trapped in this longs for warm words and help, even if they resist recovery—it's truly needed. Another crucial point is that government support in this realm isn't always sufficient. There's only one small, inadequate ward for comprehensive mental healing. Therefore, to those in this pit, a statement may seem harsh but it's true: no one will help unless you help yourself, and if you want to live, start now. It's painful to state bluntly, but no other way exists. If you wish to emerge, you must stand and act. Finally, Hodaya concludes, "Above all, Hashem is with us, listening to every prayer. I’m sure He gathered my tears and heard my supplications amidst the depths. Thus, continuing to pray and avoiding despair is vital. Today, I'm thankful to Hashem for every bite I eat, for my supportive husband, and my sweet daughters. Mostly, I'm grateful I rose again, choosing life."