Life is often defined by measurements. Our age, income, hours we spend working/sleeping/watching TV - the list could go on and on. These external measurements become the way we define success. And in sport, being defined by a specific measurement becomes even more evident. In the end, it seems that measurements define an entire career. 

My name is Kally Fayhee and from the age of 12, my life was been defined by one thing - swimming. Now, as a 23 year old, I’m learning to define my life by something other than the measurements we use every day to define success.

As a kid, my dream was the Olympics. And though I also spent time on my studies, family and friendships, the thing that defined me was swimming. 

I was never pushed to identify solely as a swimmer. Quite the opposite actually - I was pushed to become a well-rounded individual. But I wanted perfection in the one thing I had spent my life doing - I wanted to be successful and reach my dream. The problem was, I defined success based entirely on numbers. At 20, in my mind, my entire life was based on measurements. 

During the summer of my sophomore year, I became hyper-aware of what I was putting in my body. I mistakenly believed that lighter meant faster and I wanted a way to get faster in the pool during a plateau. 

I began to count every single calorie going in my body and though I had this type of disordered eating under control. I was struggling in swimming and school - food was the one thing I felt I controlled. But the obsession over calories continued and I fell deeper and deeper into the clutches of bulimia.

I was struggling with all aspects of my life and I wanted to reach out, to say I needed help, but I felt it was weak. Up to this point I had gotten through every struggle by putting my head down and toughing it out. I was a leader on my team and I thought that admitting I was imperfect, was to admit failure. 

I began to lose sleep because I was ashamed of what I was doing and ashamed that I could not stop. It was a viscous circle where there was little light at the end of the tunnel. It was not until I broke down completely, hit bottom, that I sought help.

It has been long road to recovery since the day I walked into the sports counsellor’s office. It took months to tell my family that I suffered from an eating disorder. Sometimes the hardest people to tell are the people you love the most, often you hide your struggles to protect them from your faults. But faults are what make you human. They can be your greatest strength or your worst enemy.

Three years later, I have decided to make my faults a strength. I have come to understand that this culture pushes us to strive for perfection in an imperfect world. My work and mission is now to help others seek help, to understand that it is not a weakness to reach out. Quite the opposite, seeking help and admitting imperfection is the true strength. 

Note: This video contains some numbers and specific behaviors that might be triggerring to some viewers.