Recover (10 of 40)

Remember way back in my first post when I mentioned that some of the objectives for my 40 by forty list are light-hearted and fun, while others would be much more complex and personal? Well, strap on in. This one’s gonna be a doozy.  

I have been wavering on whether and when to delve into this topic. Somewhere between a nebulous-future-date and half-past-never was beginning to sound about right when I learned that this past week was National Eating Disorder Awareness Week. I very maturely thought to myself, “Well shit,” and set about ripping off the band-aid. 

Let’s start with some statistics, shall we? 

• Over 30 million people in the US alone have an eating disorder; one-third of these people are men. 

• Eating disorders carry the highest mortality rates of all mental illnesses. 

• 13% of women over the age of 50 show eating disorder behavior. 

• Less than 6% of people with eating disorders are medically diagnosed as “underweight.” 

You may be able to guess where I’m going with this, but if not, let me officially welcome you to my overshare! As far back as I can remember, my relationship with food has been, well, complicated. In elementary school, I often feigned sick so I could stay home and eat ice cream unbothered. I’d carefully spoon down the surface so that it appeared the same as when I began, only an inch or two lower. Food was comfort, but it was also secretive and shameful. 

As a teen, I was introduced to bulimia after learning a couple of friends I looked up to had become caught up in raging eating disorders of their own. This knowledge, coupled with an intense desire to fit in and a predisposition towards anxiety and depression made the perfect storm. I had no idea the first time I voluntarily threw up in a pizza parlor restroom that I was inviting an insidious shadow figure to be a life-long companion. 

What I naïvely hoped would bring me camaraderie and belonging, actually isolated me further from everyone I knew. To my already sick friends, I was an interloper, overstepping onto hallowed ground I had not been invited to. To my family, I became increasingly crafty at separating my internal and external worlds: straight-A student on one hand, self-destructive cyclone on the other. 

It wasn’t long before I was found out. I began seeing a therapist who diagnosed me with an Eating-Disorder-Not-Otherwise-Specified. To my distorted brain, this was just more proof that I was a total failure; I couldn’t even get an eating disorder right. 

What I may have “lacked” in quality, I more than made up for in quantity when it came to mental pathology. The vast majority of people with eating disorders are also familiar with depression and/or anxiety. Substance abuse and self-harm make guest spots somewhere in the 50% range. Not to brag, but I went ahead and checked ALL the boxes, made a swift downward spiral and spent my senior year of high school in residential and group therapies instead of at prom and pep rallies.

Some times a hard U-turn and a few years of perspective are exactly what is needed to get back on the right track. The structure and stability of my 20’s and early thirties relegated my ominous shadow figure into something akin to a body-dysmorphic white noise. 

Then the bottom dropped out of my life and that structure and stability followed suit. I wish I could say that I handled all the change with grace and healthy coping strategies, but obviously I’d be lying. There’s no question I did everything in my power to ease the transition, but when a tsunami hits, dog-paddling just ain’t gonna cut it. Something was going to have to give, and for me, it was a relapse into the same behaviors I had relied on as a teenager. 

This round has been a harder battle. It’s very easy to have secrets when you live alone half the time...

...when your old friends who should’ve cared aren’t part of your life anymore and your new friends don’t know you that well yet...

...when you have to alternately keep your shit together or fall apart depending on the current custody arrangement... 

...when you’re afraid your personal struggle could be used against you in a court of law. 

Throw in a pandemic and you get the picture. 

As I was composing my list of 40 by forty, I included RECOVER on it. I had to write my goal in code because spelling out the words stop binging and purging felt way too embarrassing for a nearly 40-year-old. To be free of this is one of my greatest wishes and hardest fights. I do believe there is hope for a life on the other side of an eating disorder, but I’m learning that it is an ebb and flow process more than a final destination. 

This last year, I laid out some very specific action steps to help keep me moving in the right direction. If someone were to ask me how to recover, I’d probably shrug, “Hell if I know,” but I’d also mention these ten things that are helping to put an increasing distance between myself and the shadows I have known. 

1. Be honest. (Kinda of regretting that one now, but I digress.)
2. Regularly see a therapist. If in-patient treatment isn’t an option, prioritize weekly sessions. 
3. Consult a nutritionist. Just being properly nourished counts for a lot. 
4. Refuse to jump on eating bandwagons. (I’m looking at you Keto-Paleo-Whole30-EliminationDiet-IntermittentFasting. No hate, just not helpful for my mental health.) 
5. Get a dog. (Yes, I am crazy for adding a puppy into the mix, but I am a crazy girl who has to take the dog for a walk rather than wallow alone at home.)
6. Read Atomic Habits by James Clear. Eating disorders are largely habitual and ritualistic. 
7. Find a creative outlet. (For me: this blog. You’re welcome.) 
8. Limit alcohol. (Not gonna lie, ‘rona has done us zero favors in this regard.)
9. Foster esteem and gratitude. I try to write a list of five things I like about myself, one of which must be a physical attribute, and five things I’m grateful for daily. 
10. Be kind to myself. (Harder than it should be.) 

So, if you made it this far, thank you for bearing witness to a raw and vulnerable part of my life. And if you happen to be or know someone who is struggling with similar sentiments, please know you’re not in it alone.