Most people do this without even thinking about it, rewarding their bodies for a successful run or soccer match, with a nourishing meal or even a special treat.
When you are sick with an eating disorder, constantly derided by the voice of Anorexia telling you that you do not deserve the gifts life can bring, that you aren't worthy of reward or pleasure or love, you internalize it, gobbling up instead, the promise of becoming worthy by shrinking, restricting, punishing your body with a discipline that makes you special and strong and invincible.
The first time I went through Mercy Hospital's partial residential treatment program for eating disorders, my counselor explained that some people "recover" to a certain "level" where they stay stuck for long periods of time, even for good~ buying into most of the program of structured eating and gaining to the point where they are comfortable, still controlling the process of gaining by never fully trusting the process (thereby using eating disorder behaviors to continue to control weight gain and emotion and pain).
This type of recovery is much like leaving one foot in the boat and one foot on the dock, never fully committing to staying stationary nor moving away from the dock.
It isn't living.
It is allowing the illness to continue to hold you hostage, resulting in the type of recovery that perpetuates the lie that because one looks "healthy" on the outside, they are free from Anorexia.
But this place is still just one or two extra workouts a day, or a couple of days of restricting away from a dangerous relapse.
It is easy to do because many of our family/ friends wouldn't notice the small nuances of the disease that can linger, like constant body checking or calorie counting or secretly restricting/purging.
Full recovery requires a total and complete commitment to living a full life.
I didn't commit the first time through recovery. I believed (like many do) that I was "special" in some way and that I could control the amount of weight-gain to appease both Olivia and my loved ones. That I could straddle the dock of illness and recovery for life.
A short 2 months out of my first stay in treatment, I was already exhibiting all of the Red Flags for Relapse.
It didn't take long before I was in full-blown relapse, firmly and defiantly planting both feet decidedly in the boat.
I didn't give myself a chance to live. I couldn't recognize happiness.
Now, I can.
This, is living...
~Holding the hands of my beautiful daughters, who are 19 and 15, and still hold my hand occasionally.
~Being honest with them about my disease and showing them both the strength and vulnerability of recovery.
~Allowing my parents to see that I am not perfect and fine and solid all of the time. And embracing the joy when I am!
~Participating fully and equally in a relationship that I can trust and feel worthy of.
~Learning to allow the vulnerability that comes with recovery to be seen by him and trusting him when he says he is committed without expectation.
~Acknowledging the confidence in my work that once drove me to perpetually seek advancement. Embracing the feeling of duty and purpose outside of myself that I bring each day to my job.
~Eating ice cream cones during the afternoon. On a weekday :) (more than once)...
~Wearing a bathing suit on the beach in FLA in January.
~Going to a New Year's Eve party and drinking club soda, TRULY enjoying the company of friends I have not dared to face in a long time.
~Enjoying a meal with family while on vacation, ordering what I want without adding up the calories...then eating every bite while listening to and for the first time in a LONG time, paying attention to, the important stories of others' lives.
~Skipping a workout to enjoy sipping coffee with my partner in the early morning hours before he has to leave for work.
~Making dinner according to the actual recipe, rather than substituting and omitting everything that causes me fear.
~Enjoying a variety of foods, shunning the familiar and safe foods that keep me stuck in my disorder.
~Sitting quietly on the beach, watching a sunset, with a quietness in my head that has long since been elusive.
~Looking forward to eating at a favorite restaurant with genuine earnest.
~Resting easy after a rich meal, without thoughts of purging or the guilt of the calorie load.
~With the quietness of Olivia, being able to focus on important tasks or even trivial puzzles without distraction or the confusion of being malnourished.
So easy for healthy people.
So long forgotten in my illness.
As recovery continues, so too does true living.
