Vulnerability is Strength

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.

This is Living....

Having spent the better part of the last five years living a secret hell that that nearly convinced me that I deserved nothing more, I have begun through recovery, to not only notice the moments of light, but to embrace them.

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.

Holidays, Trauma and Relapse

Holidays are for most people, a time of excitement, gathering with friends and family around tables of festive foods and traditional dishes that elicit warmth and fond memories of childhoods and closeness. 

For someone with an eating disorder, full-blown or in some stage of recovery, they can also be a mine field of emotional triggers, unexpected comments and constant banter from media, co-workers and friends about dieting and resolutions and magazine articles proclaiming one needs "tips" for navigating the Holiday buffets....

This external noise, replete with the potential to send someone battling with recovery into a dance with relapse, pales in comparison to the raucous derision that is ignited inside the head of one afflicted with an eating disorder.

It's the perfect storm really.

 Food, family, food, friends, food, stress, food, emotions, (did I mention food?)

From Halloween until New Year's Day we are steadily fed a diet (see what I did there?) of "healthy treats", images of smiling faces on nuclear families dressed in perfect outfits with expertly coiffed hair in front of trees trimmed with the precision only Martha Stewart disciples could execute.

It's enough to tip over even the most affirmed in their recovery, because of how emotionally charged these occasions can be. 

"Do it right."

"Do NOT eat like they do...you are special and have intense will power.  It is what makes you strong and protects you from others' sneers.  You can do what they cannot."

"You don't deserve to eat this food.  You are not worthy of being here with this family...you have caused too much turmoil here."

"Be small.  Don't eat.  Drink some more to make the pain go away."

"Don't eat.  Ignore your hunger and be rewarded again with the power you get from restricting."

"Look at how everyone is talking and laughing.  You can't join in because you are too pathetic.  Everyone here just tolerates you because you are family". 

"Don't eat".

"Do it right"

"Don't eat".

This goes on inside our heads thinking about the Holidays on the horizon, the Eves and mornings of big holidays, and gets the loudest during the meals we are trying to participate in like normal people do...trying to navigate the comments, the diet talk, the resolution talk, pass the potatoes, have some butter, what's for dessert? ("Oh, I don't eat carbs")...

So many of our Holidays center around meals and traditional foods.

For people with healthy attitudes towards food, Holidays are exciting times to look forward to with the only consequence perhaps, a sour stomach or need to loosen a belt.

For people who are active in their eating disorders or who are trying desperately to maintain the gains we have made in recovery, they can be a secret, slippery slope to relapse, without warning or return.

Add to this, the charge of emotion that swirls above the dinner tables of fractured families, trying to enjoy traditions that evolved over time without evoking sadness or feelings of loss and resentment.

A feeding frenzy for Anorexia that makes shark week look like a sunny picnic at the beach.

"It's all your fault that your family isn't together during the Holidays".

"You don't deserve to enjoy this food and fun".

"Don't eat.  You don't deserve to feel joyful".

"If you weren't so pathetic, your family would still be together".

"Don't eat".

"You don't deserve joy".

"Don't be happy or festive or joyful.  It's not yours to have".

The battle for even the most determined in recovery is probably the rockiest during the Holidays.  If I am honest, this is true for me.

This year, my family knows.

It is the hardest thing for someone in recovery to come clean about eating disorder behaviors because it takes them away.

Accountability both supports and promotes recovery.

It incites our eating disorders that wish to push us back to the comfort of anxyolitic behaviors which promise underhandedly to take the guilt and shame and pain away.

But it is accountability where strength is borne.

Hence this night's blog.

Because it is true, though an overused cliche, that no person is an island.

And recovery is hard.

Especially when emotion is high.

As my dear friend once said, (hi Julie!) :

"When you drive through town, you see cute little houses with the lights on but you never know who is inside and what pain they might be in"...

Words Matter

 

If you substitute "diet" for the word "drugs" or "high" you get the picture.

Recovery in a society that nonchalantly makes dieting the norm...the gospel of femaleness...a topic that is open-season at any function/gathering/social event ("...you look so great!  Did you lose weight??") is an uphill battle.  

Recovery is a private and closely-guarded secret.  It is a position one takes by deliberate action and ironically, like the illness from which one is trying to escape, prefers a state of reticence and secrecy.

My healthy self wishes to be able to participate in a family breakfast where someone eats only half their meal, espousing that they are not as hungry as they thought.  But Olivia is still there in the shadows...berating me for ordering the muffin, grilled with butter, that I ordered to shut her up and prove that my healthy self is in charge:

"...She is only eating half her meal....you cannot eat all of yours.  She is thinner/prettier/smarter/more worthy than you...you are so weak to finish all of this food.  Restrict and prove that you have what it takes.  Be special again..."

Olivia strong-arms me into announcing that the muffin is burnt, hence I wont finish it, though I want to, because her influence still foils my resolve at times to heal the wreckage she makes of my desired normality.

She can see the chinks on the armor.  She knows how to expose my weaknesses and widen the cracks so she can gain a foothold and potentially spring a cancerous hole in my recovery.

If I am honest, most of the time I am a willing participant.  Led by the nose to self-destruct by losing back to my sickest weight.  To go beyond it and be proud of the accomplishment.  

If I am honest.  I  wish to restrict/over exercise/purge to the point that I am invisible again.  

This is the struggle.  This is the fight.  

Emotion.

History.

Strength,  and trust.  

When There is a Storm Looming, Look for your Lifeboat.

Recovery is an all or nothing prospect.

I know that intellectually.

But when my defenses are down and Olivia ratchets up her beckoning, and her winsome promises of perfection and well-being, it's difficult to resist the allure.

Really difficult.

A struggle actually...sometimes to the point that my resolve almost weakens enough to let her slither through a crack in the armor that has so far protected me from taking small steps, that lead to leaps, into her warm, tranquilizing bosom of deceitful protection.

What keeps me safe so far, is knowing that I cannot have both  my eating disorder and the relationships I have worked so hard to repair.

I know this on an intellectual level.

Truthfully though, I have moments when I try and convince myself that I can keep a piece of my eating disorder (restriction/purging/excessive exercise specifically) and my important relationships, work and life as they have become in recovery.

I mean, why can't I just restrict or purge (over-exercise or physically purge food I have been weak enough to eat) just to the weight I feel comfortable with?

What's the harm in that?

And then I see someone in my community who is successfully using my eating disorder behaviors to deal with trauma and who is pleasing Olivia and in so doing, reaping the rewards of protruding bones, baggy clothes and disappearing...

And I think to myself..."you have done so well.  You can restrict back down to a weight that is comfortable and then stop.  You've got this now.  No one will notice if you lose a few pounds because no one is really paying that close attention anymore..."

Living alone and espousing the joy of recovery to those who care about me, make it difficult, even shameful to admit the demons that still linger.

Sharing successes is easy.

Admitting weakness and the real potential for relapse is scary.

People I love will give up on me (again).

People I have worked so hard to gain the trust of will abandon hope for my resolve and success.

If I admit to the struggle to eat.  To avoid a second workout or the urge to expel nutrients from my body in the pursuit of calm and comfort.  You all might give up on me.

But if I don't reach out and admit the struggle, I have much to lose.

I'll lose all the trust that I have gained over the past five months.

I'll trade confidence for timidity.

Assertiveness for diffidence.

Lucidity for confusion.

Courage for fear.

Honesty for Olivia...

One of the 8 keys to recovery that I am reminded of each and every morning from written notes on my mirror, is to "..reach out to people rather than to your eating disorder..."

Olivia wants me to do just the opposite:

"...lose the weight you have gained.  It is out of control and it has gone on long enough.  You have been weak and this is making you miserable.  You are strong enough now... you can lose just a few pounds and no one will notice.  You know you will feel better about yourself if you just get back to the weight where we are comfortable again.  You have proved your point.  You are in control now.  You can stop after losing half of the weight you gained, no one will notice."

But I know the truth now.  I cannot stand with one foot in recovery and one foot in my eating disorder.  I must deliberately and wholly chose either the dock or the boat.

I know that.

I also know that sometimes I need a life-boat, just in case I fall in between them.

Recovery is an all or nothing prospect.

12,960,000 Seconds (of Recovery...So Far)

Granted, some of those I spent sleeping but even if you subtract the 6 or 7 hours per night that I average, the number of minutes I have consecutively chosen recovery over Anorexia since May 8, is still far and away, above any number I have achieved to date.

So while today marks only a mere 5 months of strict, Anorexia-behavior-free days, I feel like shouting from a roof-top because the further in the rear-view mirror Olivia gets, the easier it is to forget all of her promises (lies) and torture.

I'm counting seconds still because sometimes, my reality is that I have to fight for every second to stay in recovery.

One day I'll measure my recovery time in hours....then days...then months and years.

One day, Anorexia Nervosa will be something I recovered from and I won't even remember Olivia's name.

Recovery Takes a Village

If this post confuses you, trust me when I tell you, that your unsettledness with it mirrors that of mine with the maintenance phase of recovery.

I think one of the most difficult things about recovery in this stage of it, is that since I have gained the weight back, I look recovered, and people treat me as such.

On October 8th, I will have gone the longest I have ever, maintaining my "goal" weight and refraining from my preferred self-destructive eating disorder behaviors that were my coping mechanisms for the past five years (purging, restricting food intake to a dangerous level, and excessively exercising).

I don't like to talk about weight and numbers.

Still, at this point in my recovery, if the number goes up (it has... 24 pounds) it tips me over because it is scary.

What if I can't make the weight-gain stop??

If the number goes down (it has not since my last hospitalization), it tips me over because I begin to worry that I won't be able to fight the vortex that sucks me helplessly back into the darkness of relapse.

What if I can't control the loss and it causes me to relapse into restrictive and compensatory behavior?

Either way, It's a very slippery slope.

The weight-gain is the part of recovery that you all can "see".  It's tangible.  It signifies health.  I look stronger and more healthy.  My skin and eyes have life to them again.

In reality, this is just the very beginning.

Don't get me wrong, some very major changes take place once someone with Anorexia reaches a weight where vital signs become normal again and clear thinking can take place.

It's different for everyone but most of us know exactly where that happens.  I am no exception.

However, I am still very much in need of support.  I am still working on recovery.

Technically, you could say that I am still "sick".

While I am not engaging in self-destructive behaviors that are dangerous to my health and could ultimately kill me, I  am still very much in a fight for my life.

Every single mealtime/snacktime/exercise session, I have to acknowledge the fact that I have the ability to lose the weight I have gained that makes me SO uncomfortable, that mocks all of the efforts of the past five years to be "special", in short order.

I have to choose recovery behavior (which is normal behavior for all of you) over the (if I 'm honest) seductive voice of Olivia who (still) beckons in the shadows for me to return to her like reunited lovers.

I need you to pay attention.  I need you to continue to question things I say or do that  appear to be the handiwork of Olivia.

At the same time, (here comes the confusing part) I need you to believe me when I tell you that I am doing OK.  That I am eating all of my meals and snacks and that exercise is in balance for me.

Because it's true.

I long for the day when you all stop worrying about me and treat me just like the most normal of all of your friends and family.

I am truly in a place I have not been in five years.

I am (mostly) happy with the person I am.  I know what I have to offer and that I am worthy of love and respect.

I am not afraid to tell the truth anymore, even when it might be risky to a relationship of mine.  And when I do, I can detach from the results and accept whatever "is".

But tomorrow.... I could be weak long enough to let Olivia through a crack.

My recovery is new enough that I can be taken by surprise (and have) by someone who walks past me in a grocery store who is obviously active in their Anorexia, hurtling me forcefully back into negative thoughts before I even have time to counter them...

"Look at how special she is.  She is stronger (thinner) than you.  She is still able to do what you used to.  Now you are fat.  You aren't special like her.  You are weak and a failure..."

So I need you still, to treat me like you did 24 pounds ago.

Hold my feet to the fire if I make negative body comments or excessively "body check".

Call me out when I go too long without eating.

Ask me what I am eating.

Tell me what you are eating.

Don't be afraid to tell me if you grow concerned with something you notice I am doing that seems contrary to recovery.

Stand up to me if I seem to try and minimize it.

Believe what I tell you because ultimately, this is my recovery and I need to take the steps and own the consequences when I do not.

Please don't "protect" me from the shame or embarrassment of being hospitalized again if I need it.

But please.  Please.  Don't give up on me if I do relapse.

I don't mean to.

I'm just sick.

(But I am healing)