I Quit Being Vegetarian

For the sake of my health, I couldn’t continue being vegetarian.

Humble Beginnings

I wanted to be vegetarian so badly. I hate the concept of having to eat meat, of eating something that was once alive. I didn’t care about anything that says humans have to eat meat to survive, I just couldn’t stop thinking about how cruel the meat industry was and that I wanted no part in it. I thought that I could last in this lifestyle because I loved avocados and beans, but I went into quite naively.

I didn’t do any research, which was a mistake, because you’re cutting out essential nutrients that you need to survive. Humans are meant to be omnivores, and so we’re built to consume meat and vegetables. As much as I would’ve liked to deny this concept, it’s true.

I made the decision to switch right before my sophomore year of college, in the summer. During the summer I thought I could learn to cook a bit, before I moved into an apartment-style dorm, and thus I could sustain this lifestyle. And so I got the ball rolling, trying to switch completely, quitting cold turkey.

I’m Vegetarian Now!

This was really difficult, especially considering half of the time I still lived with my family. When I flew out to Iowa to do my program at the International Writing Program, I found that being vegetarian was quite easy. The Iowa dining hall, unlike the one at my college, actually was buffet style and quite accommodating to the lifestyles of many different people. This was towards the beginning of my decision to be vegetarian, and so I was thinking that when I returned home it would just be as easy. I was dead wrong.

My family, when at home, always eats the same meals together. My mother, sister, and I sat down to eat dinner together every weekday, eating the same meal unlss we prepared our own separate one. Naturally, my mother wanted to accommodate me, but, let’s be real, she’s a terrible cook. The meals that she would make without meat weren’t good, and so I didn’t want to eat them and she got mad when I said so. Then the meals I cooked for the family my sister wouldn’t eat, and it would be this cycle.

Then, when my father cooked on Sundays, he always made Iranian food. My father is the biggest meat eater I know, and so he loads his food with a disgusting amount of meat. He didn’t know how to cook for me, so his creations would also not be good.

I hate to complain about the food my parents made me—I’m grateful to have anything to eat. It just wasn’t enough to satiate me, and so I’d get really nauseous eating it.

Declining Health

My sophomore year of college was a period of terrible mental and physical health, and this was when I was vegetarian. I hadn’t been in this bad mental health since I was in high school, where I actively starved myself, was suicidal, and was playing a varsity sport. In high school, I destroyed my body in an attempt to control one aspect of my life when the rest of it seemed to fall apart. And that had terrible consequences—every soccer season, I stopped getting my period. I wasn’t bleeding at all.

On top of this, I was undiagnosed with endometriosis. I still technically am undiagnosed, but my gynecologist said we couldn’t confirm it unless we cut me open, and I don’t want to do that. But a big part of my symptoms is that I get really sick; lately, even as I sit down to write this, I have been bleeding for half a month because of the new medication system I am put under. That’s the only solution—to experiment with birth control until we find the right one.

Besides that little tangent, the point is that my health wasn’t—and still isn’t—very good. As a dumb college student who ate only like 300 calories a day, going vegetarian was extremely dangerous. Even after I left high school, the dining hall at my college was so terrible that I lived off of fruit cups and bread I’d buy at Target. It was terrible and I lost ten pounds my freshman year of college.

I also was having a lot of roommate problems my sophomore year, because I thought my one roommate was extremely controlling and the other girl was straight up in love with the controlling one. For someone with food issues, I have to be controlling over my own food or I don’t feel safe. The roommate tried to instate communism and dictated that everything must be shared, even food. And for me, that was a really bad blow for my recovery.

They were my friends, but after the one girl had added my mother and sister on social media then removed them, I started declining really fast. I stopped eating completely and withered in the school library until midnight each night, when I knew my roommates would be asleep, then I crawled back into the room, showered, and then repeated the process the next day. I didn’t pack lunches. I didn’t sleep properly. I didn’t even drink water. I was slowly killing myself out of the anxiety I felt because of my living situation, to the point where I was having a mental breakdown and feeling constantly dizzy.

I gave up being vegetarian that winter when I went home. I felt really guilty about it, even as I started dating someone and told him I was vegetarian up until I met him and he inquired why. In that moment, I felt the shame wash over me, and I couldn’t bring it to myself to explain why exactly my mental and physical health were terrible, especially because I knew I was still depressed & could tip over any minute. That relationship ending up being the tipping point that was slowly pushing me over the edge, but that’s another story.

Reflections

Obviously, I’m not trying to dissuade anyone from being vegetarian or vegan. For the longest time, random people who knew I was vegetarian began to shame me as I quietly switched back from that lifestyle to one of eating meat. I genuinely really wish I could stay vegetarian, but as someone with a history of not eating, it was just too much for me to handle as someone without professional help and guidance.

Maybe, one day, when I’m more educated about food and nutrients, I can make that switch back to eating only vegetables. I wholeheartedly hope that day comes, but right now, even a year after I stopped being vegetarian, I am still quite sick mentally and physically. My body can’t handle that.

Though, I have been cooking more meatless meals lately. Perhaps this mix is what I needed—I still despise the concept of eating meat, and, whenever tofu is on sale at the grocery store, I pick up a pack of extra-firm tofu. I’ve finally figured out how to season it in a way that doesn’t make me feel sick, but I’m definitely getting there!

It’s definitely a psychological thing that’s unique to me, especially because I have an aversion to food, so this is quite a unique tale I’m telling. I pride myself on my authenticity, so I wanted to be 100% truthful about my experience and how it was deeply tied into mental health.