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[Congressional Record Volume 141, Number 87 (Wednesday, May 24, 1995)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Page E1112]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]

[[Page E1112]]

             EATING DISORDERS INFORMATION AND EDUCATION ACT

                                 ______

                        HON. PATRICIA SCHROEDER

                              of colorado

                    in the house of representatives

                          Tuesday, May 23, 1995
  Mrs. SCHROEDER. Mr. Speaker, today I am introducing the Eating 
Disorders Information and Education Act, which provides outreach and 
education for the increasing number of people--primarily women and 
young girls--with eating disorders.
  Eating disorders and self-induced vomiting, compulsive dieting, 
binge-eating and self-starvation regimes afflicting 7 million women and 
1 million men, according to the National Association of Anorexia 
Nervosa and Associated Disorders [ANAD]. Their cause is complex, but 
studies have looked at genetics, environments, biochemistry and 
personalities. Certainly, there is a strong link between these 
disorders and the pressure to be thin in our society.
  It is estimated that about 6 percent of those with serious cases die, 
and only 50 percent report being cured. While 86 percent report onset 
of the disorder by age 20, even those 10 years and younger are known to 
suffer from it.
  Eating disorders typically last one to 15 years. Treatment is often 
expensive and long-ter--$30,000 or more a month for inpatient treatment 
and $100,000 or more for outpatient care. Many find their insurance 
doesn't cover treatment.
  Even though eating disorders are widespread, no State has an adequate 
program to combat them, and few schools have programs to educate youth 
about them, according to ANAD.
  My bill helps address this lack of public knowledge. It amends the 
Public Health Service Act to establish a program providing information 
and education to the public on the prevention and treatment of eating 
disorders. That program would be carried out by the Center for Mental 
Health Services, which would also provide a toll-free public hotline 
offering information and referrals for prevention and treatment. The 
bill authorizes $2 million for fiscal year 1996 and such sums as are 
necessary for fiscal years 1997 through 1998.
  I was particularly moved by the story of Ellen Hart Pena, wife of our 
Transportation Secretary Federico Pena, in the April 10 issue of People 
magazine. She told of her more than 10-year struggle to break free of 
anorexia and bulimia. Only after long-term therapy did she end the 
cycle of starvation diets and bingeing and purging. I would like to 
include her story for the Record.
              [Taken from People Magazine, April 10, 1995]

                           Hitting Her Stride

                          (By Ellen Hart Pena)

       I remembered exactly the moment it began. It was January 
     1980, during my senior year at Harvard where I ran on the 
     track team. My coach had suggested that I lose some weight 
     over Christmas break to help me run faster, and I had worked 
     out every day and gone from 132 to 123 pounds. But when I 
     came back from vacation I had a really crummy workout, and 
     the coach said it looked as if I were gaining back the 
     weight.
       That was the click. If he'd made the same comment to me a 
     year earlier it probably wouldn't have hand any effect. But I 
     was just four months from graduation and at a point where I 
     was scared about being an adult, about being a woman and 
     going out into the world. Until then, my life had been 
     scripted and safe. Now there were changes happening I 
     couldn't control. I was really hurt by the coach's remark and 
     said to myself, ``I'm never, ever going to be fat again.''
       Almost immediately, I began eating very little and spent 
     all my free time running. But then I'd have this 
     uncontrollable, demonic urge to eat ice cream, cookies, 
     doughnuts--anything high-calorie. And I'd eat until I 
     couldn't eat anymore. Afterward, I couldn't bear the thought 
     that it would stay in me and turn into fat, so I'd have to 
     purge. During the worst periods, I'd binge and purge four or 
     five times a day, from the moment I woke up until I went to 
     sleep. By April, I was down to 110, and I looked like a 
     cadaver.
       The purging was really painful, and it made me feel 
     horrible, disgusting and wretched. I shared a campus 
     dormitory suite with four other women, and when I went into 
     the bathroom I'd lock the door and turn the water on to over 
     the sound. But my roommates knew. One of them brought me 
     library books on anorexia and persuaded my coach to make me 
     see a counselor. It didn't help. I just sat there until the 
     session was over. My mom found out that spring, and when I 
     visited her in Albuquerque in April she arranged for me to 
     see a family friend who was a psychiatrist. But in my family, 
     people are private. No one was going to hear of my problem 
     and say, ``Enough is enough,'' and plunk me in treatment. 
     Nobody in my family had ever seen a therapist, and when I 
     stopped going after one visit, my mom and one of my sisters, 
     who were the only ones who knew of my problem, didn't push me 
     further. And I was still in denial and didn't think I needed 
     a psychiatrist.
       When I graduated in June I was very depressed, and it was 
     difficult to be with people. I took a job teaching English 
     and coaching soccer at a private boarding school in Colorado 
     Springs but quit a year later when Nike offered to sponsor me 
     as a runner. For the next four years, I tried to make a go as 
     an amateur athlete, first in Boston, then back in Colorado. 
     My eating improved a bit when I was training because I was 
     happy. But whenever I got injured and couldn't run, I'd fall 
     back into the bingeing and purging several times a day for 
     weeks and months at a time. I was dehydrated, I was cold all 
     the time, my hands would shake, and I would get headaches. 
     And I had horrible nightmares that I would just eat and get 
     bigger like this huge blimp.
       Most people didn't know I had a problem. In relationships, 
     I would pick men who wouldn't try to get too close to me. And 
     I did a good job of hiding things. No one noticed when I 
     didn't eat--I'd take just a couple of bites of what was on my 
     plate and then mound it up all together so it didn't look 
     like much. The bingeing and purging I'd do behind closed 
     doors. But I was trying everything to control my problem. I 
     learned to meditate, I prayed, I went to group and individual 
     therapy and Overeaters Anonymous meetings. Either the 
     techniques weren't right for me or I wasn't ready for them.
       Sometimes I was actually sorry that the eating disorder 
     wouldn't kill me, and I'd think, ``Please, just let me out of 
     this.''
       In February 1984, I met Federico at a race in Denver. I 
     placed first among the women and, as mayor, he presented me 
     with the award. I thought he was very down-to-earth and 
     genuine, and we seemed to hit it off. But I couldn't imagine 
     that anyone could like me if they knew about this horrible 
     part of my life. When we started dating, I told him I had an 
     eating problem and was working on it, but I made sure he 
     didn't find out how bad it was. Hiding it was actually pretty 
     easy. Federico was working at least 15 hours a day, and after 
     I started law school at the University of Colorado at Boulder 
     in the fall of 1985 we couldn't spend that much time 
     together.
       Several months later I found a therapist who specialized in 
     eating disorders, but I didn't begin to make progress until I 
     started with yet another therapist in 1987. She helped me see 
     how my eating was connected to my perfectionism and my need 
     for control. I remember in grade school going into the 
     bathroom and crying whenever my team lost because I felt I 
     hadn't done enough to make us win. As the second oldest of 
     eight children, I had been a caretaker growing up so I also 
     didn't know how to ask for help. I felt like a failure 
     acknowledging that I wasn't all that strong or capable, and I 
     had been trying to escape those negative feelings by bingeing 
     and purging. But as I began to deal with my fears, my 
     confidence grew. I really believed I could get better, so 
     when Federico proposed in 1987, I said yes.
       We married in May 1988. I graduated law school the same 
     month and took a job with a prestigious firm in Denver. Then 
     the following October I learned I was pregnant. I never told 
     Federico the full extent of my eating disorder, and now I 
     didn't tell my obstetrician. For a while I was good about my 
     eating, but before long I was bingeing and purging. Then, six 
     months into my pregnancy, I began to have really significant 
     contractions. That was the moment when I said, ``Stop. You 
     have to take care of your body, and your body is now carrying 
     a baby.'' I'm absolutely convinced that if I hadn't been in 
     therapy for a long time, I wouldn't have been able to turn 
     the corner.
       It wasn't easy. I would eat and feel so bloated, and then 
     the old feelings would kick in--eating equals fat equals bad. 
     Keeping in touch with my therapist in Boulder, I just had to 
     take a leap of faith that it was really going to turn out 
     okay. Amazingly I'm still okay. Through Nellia's birth that 
     July and Cristina's birth 19 months later and all the stress 
     of moving to Washington in 1993, my eating problem has not 
     resurfaced. Even when I suffered a miscarriage that July, I 
     knew I was strong enough to withstand the pain. I don't think 
     the lost pregnancy was as real to Federico as it was to me, 
     but when he asked me if I wanted to go back into therapy to 
     help work through my sadness, I told him I had the tools now 
     to deal with pain myself.
       Although Federico had attended a few therapy sessions with 
     me, we never had the 3-hour, tearful kind of talk about my 
     illness you might expect because I was too afraid to reveal 
     the depths of my disease. In fact, I don't think he truly 
     understood how bad it was until last fall when I showed him 
     an article I'd written for the ``Road Runners Club of 
     America'' newsletter. I think he felt bad that he hadn't 
     understood. My response was that he had done all I had 
     allowed him to do, which was basically to stand by me.
       I'm running and even competing again, for the first time I 
     can run just for the enjoyment of it. I've also learned to 
     manage my weight, which is now 125, without getting totally 
     compulsive and weird. A couple of months ago I gained four or 
     five pounds, but I just said, ``Oh well, I'll have to be more 
     thoughtful about food choices.'' That felt great. There are 
     still times when I'm tempted to binge and purge, and I think, 
     ``Maybe just today . . .'' But I'm strong enough to resist 
     it. I'm not walking near that cliff again because going over 
     the edge was my private hell. I can't go back.
     

                          ____________________
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