New Year, Same Old Shit
Excuse me for accidentally ghosting the blog for over a month. Unbeknownst to y’all, I have still been writing, but nothing I started took off the way I had hoped it would. I feel like I have tired out much of the “I’m struggling with ED thoughts” route as I have definitely done with the “reflection about/anything regarding treatment” topic. I have touched on topics of advocacy/social justice around fatphobia and diet culture, and while those things are still on the forefront of my mind every day, I feel as though I don’t deserve to speak on them when my actions don't align with my words. I believe that while, of course, eating disorders are not about the food and they stem from very real pain, their manifestation is one that blossoms from a fat-phobic culture. This is why they are increasingly common in developed parts of the word and virtually non-existent in undeveloped regions where status and value is not derived from thin-ness. Thus, I feel like a hypocrite when I preach of the dire need to break down barriers and stigma about fatness while also participating in behaviors that vilify it. It can be very frustrating because I want to be compassionate with myself about struggling with the eating disorder, but I cannot help but also feel guilty for subscribing to the beliefs I want to help eradicate when I strive to be small. Desiring thinness hurts those who are not so.
Full disclosure: For the past month or so I really should just come out and say that most of me had given up on recovery for the time being. I was really really tired of fighting (and I still am) and so I just stopped. I still went to see my treatment team and I wasn't entirely telling them to fuck off, but every time I left a session the thought that usually first came up was: "I can't do this anymore". Let me be clear: first, it was never that I wanted to give up the idea of recovery for forever, rather I wanted a "break" from trying. I wanted to postpone it. And second, I didn't want to turn back to it 100% and make it my life's work again to appease the disorder. I simply didn't care to improve and a slow trend in the wrong direction was one that didn't scare me, either. Additionally, the fact that I recently have quit a treatment program that I never thought I would have the balls to quit led me to feel that if it came to it, I could quit outpatient, too, and have my life back to do whatever the fuck I wanted. (Reminder and reality-check for myself: this was my attitude as little as five days ago and while there as been changes which I will soon discuss, I want to remind myself that things are still fragile, and for God's sake, Gloria, three days of following your meal plan does not mean you are recovered.)
A few days ago I stumbled across a youtube video of someone reporting back how their year of going "all in" to fix their extreme hunger went that begin at the start of 2019. I made a point not to read the comments and clicked away if there was anything triggering, for I try to stay away from anything like that which isn't typically very eating disorder informed. It was her approach to it, however, that reminded me of how I have attacked recovery in the past. And for a moment I saw a glimmer of possibility until I instinctively brushed it off when my eating disorder reminded me it was in control. I tucked the thought away for when I had a moment alone with myself and the ED wasn't paying attention for a moment. Also this week, Monday to be exact, I met with my dietitian and we compiled a new meal plan that would provide me with a better baseline regarding what I need to be getting in. I also attended a wonderful scholarship dinner at the home of the donors and felt all kinds of emotions as they reflected on their lives and shared things they were passionate about with us. The final, but likely most significant factor, was that it was December 30, 2019. The last few days of the decade. Now, my brain was really turning.
I kept thinking of what I wanted for the coming year and decade. What my life could look like. In the end I kept coming up with two vastly different versions: one involved recovery and the other did not. I would start by thinking of how I would be returning to school for next semester and would be coming up on completing my degree in nutrition. I would think about how I wanted to keep attempting and enjoying my not-so-great digital art hobby and maybe eventually find it could be more than that if I wanted it to. I thought about how grateful I was for the opportunities I was getting by going to UH and the people I wanted to help with the career I was following. Then I realized: recovery was not in my plans. I realized I built these dreams and hopes on the premise that my energy could be focused on them, but my being in my eating disorder will not allow for that. Back to the drawing board. I tried a new scenario where I did "enough" work to get though this semester and maybe the summer while not giving up pieces of ED that I felt too attached to. But even if there could be a way that I made through school to maintain my scholarships without having to stop for treatment, I wouldn't be capable of aligning myself personally with how I would like to professionally if I was still living by a revised code of conduct from my eating disorder, resulting in a unfulfilling career and life. Another version of this anti-recovery future would be one that wouldn't even allow for me to finish school, resulting in a loss of my scholarships, due to the need for more treatment. I could legitimately see my eating disorder sentencing me to years and years of treatment programs and ultimately letting me identify only as the "girl with the eating disorder". Again, this is quite unfulfilling. I tried to render a future where I could remain feeling safe within the walls on my ED while also living out a life I would be proud of. I began to process something I have known all along: this is not possible. The life I want to live is one of everything the eating disorder stands against: bold, unapologetic, courageous, vulnerable, intimate, fearful and free. You cannot be free when you are still in prison.
So I decided. I made the choice. I am going to try again. I am going to try to go "all in". I have to admit that I cannot bring myself say I will do this for a year. That scares me to much and I think I will shy away, so I am not going to set a timeline. What makes this approach different for me is a) that it is something I have decided to do whether or not I like it or want to. How I feel about trying to recover is irreverent to the mere fact that I am going to try. It is not a choice for me right now: I am going to try. I am worth trying, at least one more time. b) I am recognizing that while yes, this could be a long lasting, even a forever, change, it is not undoable. I tell myself this to attempt to console the ED and not unearth it's wrath that it forges when it thinks it's reign is in jeopardy. It tends to think in a black and white manner and that if I do one recovery-oriented, that it has to show me who is the boss. So it helps to emphasize the grey, that this isn't the death of my ED and it will be around still through this, too. It doesn't feel as threatening (to me and to the ED) to understand that it is there to go back to if I really do my best again to recover and it doesn't work or I cannot handle it. It may seem dangerous to my recovery to think this way, but, trust me, it's better than the alternative, and, honestly, the ED really isn't going anywhere anytime soon regardless of any actions I take against it, so it's not a false premise, either.
It's been three days now of following my meal plan- which is really what I mean by "attempting recovery". That is the change I have decided I have to make and I will tend to what needs tending to in the aftermath. And, damn, it has been way harder than I anticipated. I feel like the concept of "just doing it" that I designed in my head was built under the illusion of not being "that sick" and overall minimizing the power this thing has. It's easy to forget when it doesn't take much force from it to get me to abide by it's rules. However, when I start fighting back by breaking said rules, the big guns come out. I almost find it comical: why is eating (literally just eating) so fucking hard?! I was convinced that eating an adequate amount of food for two days had, in my eating disorders words, "undone all the work I put into this relapse" (which is problematic on it's own, I know, as it equates work and thus a "successful" ED with one that causes a visible change which isn't true much of the time). The black and white thoughts that spiked fear and anxiety higher than I had experienced in while gave me a clear perspective of how dependent and attentive I still was to the ED. It hasn't been a perfect week, but I have put effort into trying to make changes in the face of fear and discomfort, and I'll call that a win for today.
Glo
Full disclosure: For the past month or so I really should just come out and say that most of me had given up on recovery for the time being. I was really really tired of fighting (and I still am) and so I just stopped. I still went to see my treatment team and I wasn't entirely telling them to fuck off, but every time I left a session the thought that usually first came up was: "I can't do this anymore". Let me be clear: first, it was never that I wanted to give up the idea of recovery for forever, rather I wanted a "break" from trying. I wanted to postpone it. And second, I didn't want to turn back to it 100% and make it my life's work again to appease the disorder. I simply didn't care to improve and a slow trend in the wrong direction was one that didn't scare me, either. Additionally, the fact that I recently have quit a treatment program that I never thought I would have the balls to quit led me to feel that if it came to it, I could quit outpatient, too, and have my life back to do whatever the fuck I wanted. (Reminder and reality-check for myself: this was my attitude as little as five days ago and while there as been changes which I will soon discuss, I want to remind myself that things are still fragile, and for God's sake, Gloria, three days of following your meal plan does not mean you are recovered.)
A few days ago I stumbled across a youtube video of someone reporting back how their year of going "all in" to fix their extreme hunger went that begin at the start of 2019. I made a point not to read the comments and clicked away if there was anything triggering, for I try to stay away from anything like that which isn't typically very eating disorder informed. It was her approach to it, however, that reminded me of how I have attacked recovery in the past. And for a moment I saw a glimmer of possibility until I instinctively brushed it off when my eating disorder reminded me it was in control. I tucked the thought away for when I had a moment alone with myself and the ED wasn't paying attention for a moment. Also this week, Monday to be exact, I met with my dietitian and we compiled a new meal plan that would provide me with a better baseline regarding what I need to be getting in. I also attended a wonderful scholarship dinner at the home of the donors and felt all kinds of emotions as they reflected on their lives and shared things they were passionate about with us. The final, but likely most significant factor, was that it was December 30, 2019. The last few days of the decade. Now, my brain was really turning.
I kept thinking of what I wanted for the coming year and decade. What my life could look like. In the end I kept coming up with two vastly different versions: one involved recovery and the other did not. I would start by thinking of how I would be returning to school for next semester and would be coming up on completing my degree in nutrition. I would think about how I wanted to keep attempting and enjoying my not-so-great digital art hobby and maybe eventually find it could be more than that if I wanted it to. I thought about how grateful I was for the opportunities I was getting by going to UH and the people I wanted to help with the career I was following. Then I realized: recovery was not in my plans. I realized I built these dreams and hopes on the premise that my energy could be focused on them, but my being in my eating disorder will not allow for that. Back to the drawing board. I tried a new scenario where I did "enough" work to get though this semester and maybe the summer while not giving up pieces of ED that I felt too attached to. But even if there could be a way that I made through school to maintain my scholarships without having to stop for treatment, I wouldn't be capable of aligning myself personally with how I would like to professionally if I was still living by a revised code of conduct from my eating disorder, resulting in a unfulfilling career and life. Another version of this anti-recovery future would be one that wouldn't even allow for me to finish school, resulting in a loss of my scholarships, due to the need for more treatment. I could legitimately see my eating disorder sentencing me to years and years of treatment programs and ultimately letting me identify only as the "girl with the eating disorder". Again, this is quite unfulfilling. I tried to render a future where I could remain feeling safe within the walls on my ED while also living out a life I would be proud of. I began to process something I have known all along: this is not possible. The life I want to live is one of everything the eating disorder stands against: bold, unapologetic, courageous, vulnerable, intimate, fearful and free. You cannot be free when you are still in prison.
So I decided. I made the choice. I am going to try again. I am going to try to go "all in". I have to admit that I cannot bring myself say I will do this for a year. That scares me to much and I think I will shy away, so I am not going to set a timeline. What makes this approach different for me is a) that it is something I have decided to do whether or not I like it or want to. How I feel about trying to recover is irreverent to the mere fact that I am going to try. It is not a choice for me right now: I am going to try. I am worth trying, at least one more time. b) I am recognizing that while yes, this could be a long lasting, even a forever, change, it is not undoable. I tell myself this to attempt to console the ED and not unearth it's wrath that it forges when it thinks it's reign is in jeopardy. It tends to think in a black and white manner and that if I do one recovery-oriented, that it has to show me who is the boss. So it helps to emphasize the grey, that this isn't the death of my ED and it will be around still through this, too. It doesn't feel as threatening (to me and to the ED) to understand that it is there to go back to if I really do my best again to recover and it doesn't work or I cannot handle it. It may seem dangerous to my recovery to think this way, but, trust me, it's better than the alternative, and, honestly, the ED really isn't going anywhere anytime soon regardless of any actions I take against it, so it's not a false premise, either.
It's been three days now of following my meal plan- which is really what I mean by "attempting recovery". That is the change I have decided I have to make and I will tend to what needs tending to in the aftermath. And, damn, it has been way harder than I anticipated. I feel like the concept of "just doing it" that I designed in my head was built under the illusion of not being "that sick" and overall minimizing the power this thing has. It's easy to forget when it doesn't take much force from it to get me to abide by it's rules. However, when I start fighting back by breaking said rules, the big guns come out. I almost find it comical: why is eating (literally just eating) so fucking hard?! I was convinced that eating an adequate amount of food for two days had, in my eating disorders words, "undone all the work I put into this relapse" (which is problematic on it's own, I know, as it equates work and thus a "successful" ED with one that causes a visible change which isn't true much of the time). The black and white thoughts that spiked fear and anxiety higher than I had experienced in while gave me a clear perspective of how dependent and attentive I still was to the ED. It hasn't been a perfect week, but I have put effort into trying to make changes in the face of fear and discomfort, and I'll call that a win for today.
Glo
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