Like many other children, I was considered a picky eater growing up. An avid vegetable hater, eating the balanced meals provided by my mother was always a battle. I was frequently denied dessert or told to remain at the table until I at least tried the broccoli. I remember being told that one day I would grow out of my food aversions, and at that age, in the back of my mind, I believed it. I hoped that one day I could go to a friend’s house for a meal and be free of scrutiny or go to a restaurant and order something complex right off the menu without requesting ‘x’ number of ingredients removed. Despite this hope, as the years went by, my diet remained stagnant, the largely beige color palette of my plate never becoming the rainbow I saw on everyone else’s. 

My first semester of college was when I realized that something was different about me. While the Rott was new and exciting at first, as the days went by it became harder for me to eat the same options over and over again. Not that there weren’t ample, varied dishes available, it was just that those varied dishes did not match what I could eat. I watched as people created plates of different foods every day while I rotated through a select few options. My meals became smaller and more infrequent, it became a chore to even go to the dining hall. I would skip attending the Rott for days, substituting with the snacks I had in my dorm. By the spring of my first-year, I knew something needed to change. My energy levels were at an all-time low, I wasn’t properly fueling myself to function and it began to affect me academically. 

In the summer of 2023, I was diagnosed with Avoidant Restrictive Food Intake Disorder, also known as ARFID. ARFID, classified as a sensory eating disorder, is similar to Anorexia Nervosa in terms of restriction. Both disorders often result in malnourishment of the body as well as weight loss and low energy. However, ARFID, contrary to anorexia, has nothing to do with body image. Rather, people with ARFID restrict their eating because of their strong aversion to various textures, smells and colors of foods. When safe foods are limited, eating becomes a stressful experience that people with ARFID subconsciously avoid, causing a lack of appetite and motivation to eat. 

When I returned to Goshen College in the fall of my sophomore year, I planned to eat most of my meals in my dorm. With more control over what I ate, I was able to maintain healthier eating habits, but I was still paying for the entire carte blanche meal plan. So, with a recommendation letter from the dietician I met with over the summer and guidance for where to go from my on-campus counselor, I emailed the accommodations office asking if there was any way I could significantly reduce or completely remove my meal plan. After a few weeks of communicating back and forth with the accommodations office and waiting for input from various people, my request was approved, and my meal plan was removed completely. 

I am very thankful to GC for the accommodations they provided me. My experience was smooth and I can now say that without a meal plan bogging me down, the effects of ARFID on my everyday life have lessened. I am infinitely grateful that I have had the privilege to get diagnosed, which gave me access to accommodations, treatment options and validation that my aversions aren’t a symptom of immaturity. However, that privilege is just that, a privilege that not many people have access to. The appointments I attended to receive my diagnosis were not cheap, and that money barrier denies many people the ability to receive a similar diagnosis. For this reason, I feel improvements could be made to the accommodations process. Without my dietician, campus counselor, and diagnosis supporting me, I do not think I would have been able to receive these accommodations as quickly and easily as I did, if at all. All goes to say that GC is doing a good job, but it could always be better.