When I appeared to be at my healthiest, I was at my sickest.

On the outside I looked like the picture of health because I was eating all the "right" things, not eating all the "wrong" things (at least in public), and exercising intensely (because more is always better, right?).

But behind the scenes I was anxious and depressed, having panic attacks on a regular basis. I was unsettled in my life, spending all my extra energy on obsessing over what I did and didn't eat, and how I planned to exercise. I was smoking to suppress my appetite, cycling between restricting and bingeing, and drinking every night.

I was focused on what other people thought of me and forgetting to focus on my own experience. I opted out of so many events because I couldn't get comfortable in my own skin.

Between my orthorexia and severe restriction, I was not doing well mentally or physically.

Yet people – both those I knew and complete strangers – would ask me what kind of workout I did. They would marvel at how “good” I was around food. They would make comments about my body.

While this input was likely intended to be complementary, all it did was reinforce the belief that my worth was inseparable from my appearance.

It made me feel even more terrified to drop the façade.

We can't assume anything about someone's emotional well-being or physical health based on their appearance, and doing so may deter them from getting the help they need.