UNIVERSITY PARK, Pa. -- One year ago, he was Penn State's beloved kicker, the one who teammates and fans dubbed Big Toe.
Joey Julius was the player whose physique didn't match the mental image those have of kickers, but below the surface he struggled with how people viewed him. It's been a battle since he made his Penn State debut in 2015 when the Nittany Lions played Temple.
"Many of you know we lost that game and it was embarrassing. But when I went into the locker room people were laughing and the locker room atmosphere seemed a lot different," Julius said Monday night at Penn State's HUB-Robeson Center. "Something was off. I checked my cell phone and my battery was really low, which was strange. When I looked I had 5,000 news messages and like 10,000 notifications on my Twitter. I became a viral sensation because of the way I looked."
What Julius wanted to be known for and how the public perceived him is a battle he's still fighting. Now a student at Penn State Harrisburg after two stints at a treatment facility in St. Louis to receive help for a binge eating disorder that was the result of his battle with anxiety and depression, Julius spoke Monday night. Speaking publicly to his peers for the first time, Julius was the keynote speaker kicking off Penn State's Mental Health and Wellness week.
"Today I try to win little battles throughout the day," Julius said looking out to a crowd of about 300 students, joking that there were more onlookers than those once in Penn State's required public speaking course, CAS100.
Coming to grips with who he is and how he ended up here was a story Julius shared openly. Since he was 9 years old he said he's battled with an eating disorder, something he didn't come to terms with until seeking treatment.
Julius recalled when his father would take him out to eat after every soccer practice, despite the two knowing that Julius' mom would have a meal at home waiting for them.
It was their secret.
"For the next 5 years I basically ate two dinners every night," he said. "That was normal for me. I'd go to bed sick every night and wake up sick every morning and wouldn't even be able to eat in the morning. When I got to high school, things got worse. My dad got obsessed with my weight."
Putting his son through exercises before and after school, plus getting him hooked on dieuertics, diet pills and weight loss plans, Julius snuck food at home at night. He'd hide food in the garage so his dad wouldn't find out. He'd keep a food journal at the advice of his soccer coach, working to adhere to conditions of maintaining invitations to elite soccer camps and upholding terms of promised soccer scholarship offers. They all were contingent upon Julius' weight and without him hitting a number on the scale his offers would be off the table.
That is why Julius said he chose to switch from soccer to football where he walked on at Penn State. He was optimistic that the taunting he received from other soccer players who mocked him because of his weight would disappear. It wouldn't matter how much he weighed once he stepped on the football field, or so he thought.
Still, he struggled with his body image since childhood and wanted approval from his father. Despite thinking college would be better as he had freedom for the first time in his life, Julius realized that the same challenges he faced since he was a boy wouldn't disappear with unlimited meal points and late-night runs to the on-campus food stop known as The Mix.
"I found no approval and I actually found conditions set by him where I had to lose wait in order to earn his love," Julius said of his dad. "I can remember times when even my own pediatrician would poke and prod at me and make jokes about my weight as I was growing up."
Once Julius started delivering punishing hits as the Lions' kickoff specialist his folklore blossomed overnight.
"For a little bit I accepted it and I took on the role of Big Toe, as many of you know me," Julius said. "It was hard for me because I want to be known as a kicker and not as an overweight kicker. ... My eating disorder took me to the brink."
In the midst of the Lions' rigorous off-season training schedule -- one where Julius said he had to do extra workouts just to get down to a certain, healthy playing weight -- Julius walked into the Lasch Football Building this past March where he told trainer Tim Bream he was contemplating taking his own life.
Immediately Julius was admitted to Mount Nittany Medical Center where he spent six days before heading back to the treatment facility in St. Louis. Since then, the past eight months have been about finding ways for him to cope with everyday tasks, knowing that some days getting out of bed will be a struggle.
"Every time I walked to class, every time I ate in the dining commons, any time I went out on a Saturday night, I always worried about the way I looked," Julius said. "My body image has never been good. It takes me about an hour to get ready for the day because I have to find something that I think will make me look skinnier. I have to find something that will make be look better."
Living in Harrisburg, where Julius grew up, he's surrounded himself by people who he said will continue to be uplifting, those who see him as more than an athlete or the person who still is trying to cope with his body image. He said his second stay at the treatment facility in St. Louis helped him understand that acceptance comes from within in and that he's finally found.
"I've started to love myself through hours and hours of therapy, through hours and hours of talking with friends and from just being around people who will pull me up instead of putting me down," he said.