Desensitizing Triggers: Recovering in the Real World

I know that most of us in the blog community try to be respectful to our readers by not posting information that could trigger bad behavior or encourage relapse, such as specific weight, caloric content/consumption, etc. But what about the real world? How do we avoid being triggered then?

I've learned that the world doesn't understand eating disorders, much less what it takes to recover from one. If you turn on the television, open a magazine, or log onto your internet connection, it doesn't take long to see why. Almost every commercial is a weight loss how-to guide. People who have never had eating disorders are encouraged to lose weight and are made to feel horrible about their bodies regardless of what size they are. If even people without eating disorders are feeling the pressure, how do you think that makes us feel? How are we supposed to handle that?

I watched television this morning while eating breakfast. Halfway through my english muffin, a Special K commercial came on. Of course, it's about weight loss. At the end the woman asked, "What will you gain when you lose?"

Wait, what? Think about that.

What will you gain when you lose? It made me want to spit my breakfast out. It made me feel horrible. It made me feel guilty for eating, for not losing weight, for not gaining something. The truth is I don't need to lose anything. If I lost weight I would gain nothing. In my case it should have said, What will I lose when I lose? Everything.

But the commercial wasn't meant for me. Luckily, I was able to realize this and I continued eating my breakfast. I realize I'm not their target market, but that doesn't matter. Triggers are everywhere. Society wasn't created to tiptoe around people in recovery. Our only option is to try to think with clarity.


A few years ago, when my eating disorder was much worse, I wouldn't have been able to ignore the commercial and continue eating my breakfast. About two years ago, I worked with a guy who flirted with all the female employees, especially me. It was annoying but I ignored him for the most part. One day in the break room, everyone discussed my food choices and eating habits as if it were their business. People said things like,

"I've never seen her eat."

"She doesn't eat anything. She works through lunch breaks."

"She's vegan so she only eats lettuce."

And then the flirt chimed in.

"Look at those hips. Obviously she's eating something."

Of course he meant it as a compliment. To him, like many men, hips are attractive. To me, they were the enemy. Naturally my eating disorder took his comment and ran with it. My entire life, even at my lowest and highest weight and every weight in between, I've always had a small waist and larger hips/thighs/bottom. Some people call it an hourglass figure. My eating disorder wouldn't let me see it as anything but fat.

Since my recovery began, I've been placed in countless situations like the one above. Each time I have been triggered by the outside world, my first reaction was to let my eating disorder take over. "Okay, obviously I'm fat so, I'll go back to not eating."

In reality, I was using these triggers as an EXCUSE to act out the eating disordered behavior I was otherwise trying to suppress. I was allowing myself to wallow, to regress, to give in to my eating disorder even though I knew better. At that stage in my recovery, I knew better. It's like a little kid. His parents can tell him not to do something, the kid knows he isn't supposed to do it, but the minute his parents aren't looking, he does it anyway. We cannot be that kid. We have to hold ourselves accountable. We have to respect ourselves enough to not allow ourselves to do the wrong thing. More than that, we have to respect ourselves enough to make sure we do the right thing.

As I finished my breakfast, another commercial came on. This one was for mini babybel cheese. It's the one where the girl is in the mall passing out samples of this cheese to shoppers. One shopper is carrying a newly purchased dress. The babybel girl gives her some cheese and says something like, "Do they have that dress in my size... which is... size awesome."

It's a silly commercial, but there was something so strangely empowering about this lady saying she's size awesome. I like that. My mother always told me to dress the body you were given. Be the size that you are. It doesn't have to be the size of the person next to you, the one in the magazine. Just be you.

It reminds me of my favorite little vignette in The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros.

They are the only ones who understand me. I am the only one who understands them. Four skinny trees with skinny necks and pointy elbows like mine. Four who do not belong here but are here. Four raggedy excuses planted by the city. From our room we can hear them, but Nenny just sleeps and doesn't appreciate these things.

Their strength is secret. They send ferocious roots beneath the ground. They grow up and grow down and grab the earth between their hairy toes and bite the sky with violent teeth and never quit their anger. This is how they keep.

Let one forget his reason for being, they all droop like tulips in a glass, each with their arms around each other. Keep, keep, keep, trees say when I sleep. They teach.

When I am too sad and too skinny to keep keeping, when I am a tiny thing against so many bricks, then it is I look at trees. When there is nothing left to look at on this street. Four who grew despite concrete. Four who reach and do not forget to reach. Four whose only reason is to be and be."

Health and Happiness

The last few weeks have been full of medical appointments and testing. Doctors are still trying to figure out what has been making me so dizzy. The dizziness isn't as bad as it was originally but it's still there. Since September I've been in the emergency room three times, undergone one CT scan, two x-rays, two MRIs, and multiple rounds of blood testing and they still can't tell me what's wrong with me. Every test comes back normal, which is good. But it doesn't help me figure out what's going on or how to stop it.

I'm supposed to see an ENT and a Neurologist, though I'm still waiting for my primary doctor to schedule those appointments. I also need to see an OBGYN because of ovarian cysts. One ruptured Thursday causing me yet another trip to the emergency room. I saw my primary doctor today and she told me the blood work I had done was basically normal, even my B-12 and iron levels. That is the first time in 7 years (since my eating disorder began) that everything has been normal! I credit it to good nutrition. I've been making an effort not only to eat enough, but to eat the right foods for my body's needs. I focus less on calories and more on nutrients. I choose foods with high levels of protein, iron, and B & D vitamins since those are the areas I'm generally lacking. I'm not interested in torturing my body. I'm interested in nourishing it.

I do have to admit that all of these appointments have triggered my eating disorder in some ways. For example, most of my labs required me to be fasting. That word alone triggers something deep within me, and I apologize if it triggers any of you who may be reading this. I understand that the point is to test my blood levels when nothing is in my body, but the very act of having nothing in my body brings back too many familiar sensations. It's like recovering from alcohol abuse only to be told by someone you have to drink alcohol before they can help you. Regardless, I overcame it, and I'm eating regularly.

Normally I request at doctors' offices not to be weighed or at least not to know what the scale says. With my new doctor, I was too embarrassed to ask for that, so I know my weight now. As you can imagine it stressed me out. It's better not knowing. Even though I am making steps to love myself and nurture myself and accept myself no matter what, hearing a number higher than I anticipated was like a little punch in the stomach. But it doesn't matter. For the first time in my life I'm realizing a few pounds are not going to be the end of me. Just more proof the grip anorexia once had on me is loosening and loosening.

Before long, I will shake her off completely. There is no doubt in my mind. Life without her is too good. I'm too strong, too happy, too free to go back.

I don't normally make resolutions for the new year, but this time I'm going to. Very simply, I am dedicating 2011 to health and happiness. That means doing everything I can do to be the healthiest, happiest me that I can be.

I wish the same to everyone reading this. Health and happiness.

Open Your Heart

I'm glad to say my boyfriend is finally back from his business trip to Boston. He was gone for two months, leaving me here alone. In other words, the ultimate test of my commitment to recovery. It's huge for me, eating on my own. He (next to my faith in God) has been the most crucial part of my recovery. For the last five years he has taken the time to understand my eating disorder and to help me beat it. Even long before I was ready to get better, he was in my corner, fighting for me to get better. When he's around not eating or restricting is never an option. He simply won't stand for it. But, as I've said before, I can't depend on him to make me eat. I have to do it for myself. I can't be better when he's around and then fall to pieces when I'm on my own. Though I stumbled more than once while he was gone, I'm proud that I didn't spiral into a dark, dark place. There were days when I didn't eat nearly enough, but those days were rare. Most of the time I managed to eat properly and healthily. In other words, I love my boyfriend, I'm happy he's home again, and I want to be healthy for him, but I'm glad to know without a doubt that I have what it takes to be healthy for myself.

We went to the gym tonight after he got home from work. I don't like working out with other people and he doesn't either, so we do our own thing and meet up again when we're ready to leave. I was on the elliptical when I noticed a girl two rows in front of me on a treadmill. Her ponytail is what caught my attention, actually. It kept bobbing up and down as she ran. I wasn't staring at her on purpose, but I found my eyes going back to her over and over again. I felt some kind of connection to her that I couldn't explain. Something told me she had an eating disorder. I don't know why. She was doing nothing to suggest it. She was only running, steady, methodical, determined. Maybe I saw a bit of myself in her actions, the way she ran, the way she looked from side to side. She was thin but not overly thin. She looked normal. Was she? Did I look normal? Was I?

I wondered how many people around me had or have had eating disorders. It's hard to tell by looking at some one. Even people who are very thin are rarely thin because of an eating disorder. On the other hand, people who are a normal weight or even overweight could be suffering from an eating disorder without anyone knowing. Like me. At one point in my life it was obvious that I was sick. But now, no one would ever know. I'm just like any other girl there, the one to the left of me, the one to the right.

We came home and made spaghetti. I ate a lot. My brain kept telling me that I needed to burn some calories off regardless of my workout earlier, but I didn't listen. I wanted to have soy ice cream but my brain reminded me I already ate enough today. And then the ticker tape started up, the calories, ticking. 100, 200, 300, 400. I could see all the day's calories rolling out in front of me. It's tempting to add them all up and know exactly how many calories I've had. In the past, that was my only option; I had to know the number. It was the most important part of the day. It measured my progress and determined my plan for the next day. I could close my eyes at night thinking of nothing except that number 700, or 300. 900, or 0. Regardless, that number was the most important thing, next to the number on the scale, of course. Now I couldn't care less.

I'm not afraid of a stupid number.

I am thankful for how far I've come.

I hope that girl at the gym has never had an eating disorder, and I hope she never does. I wouldn't wish this on anyone.

But, for those of us who have to go through this, I just want to offer a reminder:

There is a way out.

There is life on the other side.

There are more important things than calories and fat grams and the size on the tag inside your jeans.

And you're beautiful, no matter what size, shape, weight, age, race, height, gender, nationality, religion, sexual preference.

We're only ugly when we open our hearts to hate.

So open them to love.

I'm opening mine to soy ice cream.

Yum.

Weight and Wellness

Though weight is a subject constantly on my mind, I've been thinking about it more and more as I've been sick the last few weeks. I've been on such a mix of antibiotics, steroids, pills for dizziness, decongestants, ear drops, and supplements. I hate taking medicine to begin with, and I certainly hate taking this much of it. I believe in being as natural as possible so this entire course of treatment has been difficult for me, especially when I stop to consider the effect all of this medicine could have on my weight. I've read the ins and outs of all the side effects and one pill in particular says that weight gain is very common. How am I supposed to handle that? Most people reporting weight gain have taken the pill as part of long-term therapy while I'm on it only for seven days. Regardless, the last thing I want to do is gain weight. I've been too sick to work out. Starving myself is no longer (and never should be!) an option. So where does that leave me? Do I stop taking the pills in an attempt to maintain my weight or do I concentrate on clearing up the dizziness, the infections, the fluid in my ears? Do I choose weight or wellness?

Of course I know that the answer should be to choose wellness, but it's not so easy. I'd be lying if I said the thought of weight gain didn't terrify me, even to this day. I have gained weight since I began recovering from my eating disorder, but I am finally at a size I've been learning to feel good about. Suddenly I have to consider what I would do if that size changed? I am all about love and acceptance of the way that I am now, but if I were suddenly much larger, would that change? What if I actually became obese? Could I still love myself, or is that love conditional?

The point is that it shouldn't be conditional. It should be unconditional. Whether or not I gain weight from this medicine or for any other reason should have no bearing on my ability to love myself. It should have no bearing on my self-worth. I always talk about how much the outward appearance doesn't matter. But does it? I want to say no. But if the answer is really no, then why am I still so afraid of gaining weight?

I guess even after all of this time spent in recovery, I still have a lot of ground to break. Discovering my weaknesses is the first step toward correcting them. Better yet, it's the first step toward letting go of them.

Maybe I still have a lot more self-discovery to do before I can fully move on to self-acceptance.

“Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.” - Elizabeth Gilbert

If it isn't obvious from the quote in the title, I just saw Eat, Pray, Love. This is not a post about the movie or the book (I recommend both, the book more so than the movie. Isn't that always the case?) This post is about ruin. This post is about transformation. This is a concept I've been thinking about for weeks, since I read the book of essays by Eula Biss. I had an entire post devoted to it. Gilbert says "“Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation” and Eula Biss says, "there is always some promise in destruction." I agree with both.

My eating disorder was certainly destructive. It certainly left my entire life in ruin. But would I be the person I am today without it?

I would never wish an eating disorder on anyone. I know that most people can't even begin to imagine how serious they are--how destructive. How deadly. Anorexia is contradictory in the eyes of society. On one hand, the overly thin are glamorized and idealized. On the other hand, they're ridiculed. The point is that people are judgmental and fickle. If you're too fat they'll tell you to slim down. Once you get too slim, then they'll tell you to fatten up. I've been on both sides of the spectrum and I wasn't happy at either. Unlike a lot of people who develop anorexia, I was slightly overweight when my eating disorder began. I wasn't obese, but I wasn't thin either. By the time anorexia was finished with me, I'd lost 80 lbs. I was a skeleton. I was sick. I was dying. And it still wasn't good enough for anyone. The people who used to say I was chubby now said I'd gone way too far, as if it was their place to decide how I should look. Now my weight is somewhere in between. I'm not overweight and I'm not underweight. I'm tired of being pulled in either direction.

Like anyone else who has overcome an eating disorder or any other major struggle, I'm not left with bruises, I'm left with scars. Some of them are deeper than others. But they will all heal. I have never been content with myself. I wasn't happy when I was chubby. I wasn't happy when I was skinny. I didn't love myself high and I didn't love myself low.

Here is to balance.

Here is to contentment. To courage. To strength.

I am thankful for all I've been through because it's brought me where I am:

Somewhere in the middle between healing and happiness.