When Discipline Becomes Harmful: Rethinking Eating Disorders in Competitive Sport

For a long time, I believed there was only one solution to my experience of stress in competitive athletics: leaving the environment.

I now realise that this belief came from how narrow my worldview had become.

This post is not about blaming coaches, teams, or athletes. It is about understanding how certain environments implicitly shape behaviour—and why mental health difficulties in sport often emerge for multiple, interacting reasons.


The Environment I Was In

I belonged to a university athletics team where:

  • Performance was constantly visible and evaluated
  • Team norms were strict and rarely questioned in the name of team goals
  • Athletes lived, trained, and ate together
  • Injury was often interpreted as a lack of commitment to the sport (it was commonly evaluated as not being disciplined enough for athletic life)

At the starting line, especially in our first year, everyone looked equal. But over time, performance differences emerged and accumulated across our university careers. Faster athletes were seen as disciplined and “doing things right.” Slower or injured athletes were often viewed—sometimes unconsciously—as less committed.

No one said this out loud. But everyone felt it.


How Beliefs Slowly Changed

In that environment, several beliefs formed without me realising:

  • Speed became a moral value
    Faster meant better—not just athletically, but personally.
  • Comparison became identity
    My worth depended on who I was faster or slower than.
  • Injury became a threat
    Being separated from group training felt like a social risk. Missing main workouts was often interpreted as laziness or avoidance.
  • Weight loss became proof
    It was visible, measurable, and comparable evidence of discipline. Within the team, lower body fat was believed to reflect commitment, while weight gain was seen as a lack of engagement with team norms.

Losing weight felt like control.
Control felt like relief.
And relief felt like survival.

Gradually, I came to believe that I had only two ways to conform to the environment:
to become faster than others, or to become thinner than others.

Because I experienced frequent injuries during university, I believed that becoming thinner was the only way to prove my worth to the team. The club conducted weekly body-fat checks and openly shared the results with all teammates every Monday. There were stigmatic messages directed toward athletes who gained body fat, alongside implicit praise for those with lower body fat.

Sunday afternoon was the time of over-eating and vomiting for me


Why This Wasn’t an Individual Problem

It would be easy to say, “I just needed more resilience” or “better self-control.”
But that misses the point.

When an environment includes:

  • Constant monitoring (roommates implicitly monitoring each other)
  • Limited psychological safety (solidarity enforced by coaches and team norms)
  • Narrow definitions of success (records and performance as the only valued outcomes)

people do not choose behaviours freely—they adapt.

In this context, disordered eating was not irrational.
It was functional. It was a strategy for survival.

Lower body fat reduced anxiety.
It signalled commitment.
It protected my identity and worth in a system where value felt fragile.


Interventions I Can See Now (That I Couldn’t See Then)

At the time, leaving felt like the only option.
Now, I can see that multiple interventions were possible—some easier than others.

1. Psychological work (slow, but meaningful)

  • Reflecting on personal values beyond performance
  • Challenging all-or-nothing thinking
  • Learning acceptance around injury and limitation

These approaches take time. They support cognitive change, but they do not remove external pressure. They are also difficult to achieve alone, as perspectives can become fixed or biased. Social support and psychoeducation are often necessary to open these reflective spaces.

2. Social support (helpful, but limited alone)

  • Counselling and psychoeducation
  • External perspectives that question team norms

Support helps, but when the environment remains unchanged, relief is often temporary. In this team, authority and power dynamics were dominant, and emotional suppression was treated as the appropriate way to cope. Seeking support risked being interpreted as avoidance or weakness, creating stigma around accessing help.

3. Environmental changes (often underestimated)

  • Living separately from teammates
  • Creating distance from constant comparison
  • Gaining autonomy over meals and daily routines

These changes are not avoidance. They are contextual protection.
However, they often require negotiation with coaches or teammates, which can be a significant barrier.

4. Leaving the team (sometimes necessary)

In some systems, norms are too deeply embedded to change.

Leaving should not be understood as failure or a deficit.
It can be a way to reclaim agency, health, and identity—although it may come with emotional, social, or financial costs.


What I Wish More People Understood

Eating disorders in sport are rarely about vanity or weakness.

They are often:

  • Responses to pressure
  • Attempts to cope
  • Strategies to adapt and belong

When discipline is moralised and worth is measured narrowly, harm can easily be mistaken for dedication.


A Final Thought

If you are an athlete, coach, or support person, ask not only what someone is doing, but what that behaviour is trying to protect them from.

Sometimes the most important intervention is not trying harder or doing more. Observing what is happening from multiple perspectives, creating psychological space, and adjusting the surrounding environment can play a crucial role in sustaining mental health within a sporting career.

This article offers a case-based reflection to help uncover the mechanisms behind mental health difficulties within a sports team, as well as possible pathways for intervention. Individuals differ in their capacities, beliefs, backgrounds, opportunities, and environments across contexts and situations, meaning that no single explanation or intervention fits every case. Careful observation and context-sensitive responses are essential when supporting mental health in sport.


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