When I began writing this blog, I promised to be honest.
Brutally honest.
Honesty is Olivia's Kryptonite and it has become more and more certain to me since beginning this journey, that the more difficult it is to share something about how this disease manifests itself in my life, the more loudly and expeditiously I should share it.
Anorexia is a disease that demands perfection...not just physical perfection (which, for people with Anorexia, is like a mirage to a weary desert-traveler) but in ALL aspects of being:
In my sickest times, Olivia demanded perfection in:
Being the smallest person in the room.
(If not) Having the most chiseled muscles in the room.
Getting an A+ on everything I attempted (school, work, life) without exception.
Eating the least amount of food of anyone at the table.
Running the farthest, fastest, more often than anyone.
Being loved by everyone I love. No exceptions. No rejection.
Controlling everything that happens to me.
(When I can't) Controlling my feelings about it ("I'm fine").
Being the smallest person in the room....being the smallest person in the room....being the smallest person in the room.
In recovery, we learn that ideas that pop into our streams of consciousness that demand we cause ourselves harm, are thoughts to be discarded, stepped aside from, and replaced with positive, opposing thoughts and subsequent action.
Having been a slave to Olivia's constant tapes for so long, this is proving to be one of the most challenging facets of recovery for me.
And it could hold me back if I am not accountable to it.
My healthy brain, now nourished and restored to a level of functioning that affords me ammunition with which to fight negative thoughts, still fails at times to recognize when Olivia is steering the ship.
Recovery is a lot like chipping away at an archaeological site. The earth being encouraged by the diggers to give up its treasures, known only to it.
The very nature of the characteristics of those of us seemingly predisposed to the disease of Anorexia, are the very same which make it so difficult to give in fully, to recovery.
Pay attention.
The perfection that Olivia demanded of me, when I was active in my disorder and even now sometimes in recovery, requires that I disappoint NO one in my life, at all costs.
This includes my children, my parents, my partner, my ex-husband and his family, my therapist, my co-workers and employer, casual acquaintances, the person in front of me in line at the grocery store (and let's not even START on God).
Rejection and disappointment are intolerable emotions that must be avoided with a tenacity equal to that of someone fighting for their life.
Anorexia was the furnace stoked by the shame and fear of rejection and disappointing others, that Olivia stacked neatly in abundance along the shelves of my mind.
Now, in recovery, I am encouraged to be open about triggers and blind spots, weaknesses and failures.
That. And to embrace the (enormous amount) of weight which steals the one (and only) trait that was once "special" about me.
It's almost like a trick really. Sometimes it even seems cruel, when I am working so desperately to embrace "living" (eating).
In my best, most solid moments of recovery (which I am proud to say honestly at this stage, outnumber the weak ones) I can remind myself that what is special about me is the mom I am, the friend I am, the partner I am, the social worker I am, and not the size I am.
But sometimes, I catch a glimpse of my plumper cheeks, my fuller figure or how I now fill out the jeans that once hung victoriously loosely, declaring my success at disappearing. And for a moment, Olivia re-emerges with her vengeful, vicious and venomous efforts to sabotage the progress that advances my commitment to recovering.
At this stage, I cannot even feign acceptance of this uncomfortable weight that seems to be what threatens any further advancements towards recovery from here.
I am being told to "trust the process" (what if the process doesn't work for me!?)
"Trust your body" (what if my body is pissed at me and never stops gaining weight!?)
"Be honest about how you are feeling" (if I people know how much of a daily struggle this is they will think I am failing...that I am a failure. I'll disappoint them and they will reject me").
Don't miss that last one.
It is the reason I continue to be ever-vigilant against Olivia's desire to reunite me with the power gained from her sickness, with the seduction of her duplicitous promises to restore my strength and dignity.
The tariff for her restoration of command is all of the joy in my life, my relationships, my work, my soul.
So tonight I am saying, fuck you Olivia! (sorry mom) and staying honest about what I need in order to stay healthy and decidedly on the path of recovery.
I need to be aware of my thoughts as they pertain to my own size.
And how I compare me to you.
I need to stop looking at images of "too thin celebrities" or body builders, telling myself that I am only trying to embrace my new body (I'm not.... I am comparing and it is one of my biggest triggers).
I need to be honest with my support person and my partner when I am struggling with something they might be able to help with. Rather than concealing it so I can continue to stay stuck in my ED or out of fear of disappointing or rejection.
I need to stop making comments to my workout partners about "...running with a 25 pound weight strapped to my ass".
Like the skinny jeans in my closet, I need to rid my digital archives of photos of myself depicting a "me" I should no longer strive for.
I need to be honest with my counselor rather than trying to be perfect in my recovery.
I need to be patient with my body as it recovers from the abuse I inflicted over the past 5 years.
Like the Earth to the Archaeologist searching for answers, I need to expose the indiscernible vestiges of Olivia that only I am privy to, in order to understand her historical presence in my life and ultimately supplant her strong hold in my journey.
I will beat this.
With your help. I will beat this.
