Recovery. I have been in a solid state of it for about a year and half now. By "solid" I mean a commitment to a permanent, sustainable, long term life without my eating disorder. I have been in recovery before. Even for a couple of years at a time. For example, when I was pregnant with my children I was in definitely recovery. It just hasn't stuck. The difference this time is the commitment to not ever having my ED as an option again. This is terrifying. Every single time I was so called "recovered" before, I stopped the dangerous behaviors. Even many of the wicked thoughts took a back seat to my daily life. However, my ED was always on the back-burner simmering, "I'm here when you need me. You'll be back." And I knew I would. When I wasn't engaging it was still always an option. This process of breaking up with my ED for good is, well, really hard. Can it even really be done? How can I promise I will never go back? Is full, total, unconditional recovery possible? Jenni Schaefer, author of Goodbye Ed, Hello Me believes so and has written extensively about this. But can I truly get there?
This last little string to cut feels more like a steel cord leash. When I was engulfed in my eating disorder the leash was short. I couldn't go far. I had little control to move beyond what the leash allowed (although I thought otherwise at the time). Even though I have more slack on the leash and I am able to get farther away, I am still tethered. This part of recovery is the sawing at the cord. Am I strong enough to break it and run free without ever looking back? My dietitian and I have talked at length about this. She used the analogy of Whack-a-mole game. You know, that carnival game where a toy mole's head pops up and you are supposed to hit it with a rubber mallet. Eventually heads are coming up from everywhere and it is nearly impossible to whack them all. Just when I feel like I've got one behavior corrected, a different pops up. This is my eating disorder's desperate, almost subconscious, attempt to cling to me. This particular part of the battle has really convinced me that this disease is not a choice, but rather a disease of the mind. It is not a lifestyle option but a mental illness.
So, one mole at a time, I keep whacking. The things that come up surprise me. The ridiculous ideas I come up with seem to come from nowhere. One strict rule this week might not have even on the radar a month ago. My brain hears information all around and makes it's own conclusions and rules. My job now is speaking truth back to these thoughts. Are non-organic grapes really going to kill me? Probably not, but not eating will. What will really happen if I eat lunch before noon? Not a damn thing. Is eating more than one fear food in a day seriously affecting me? Really? Truth: no. I continue to speak these truths back to the twisted part of myself. I try to consciously challenge the self-placed rules. When my ED says, "you can't possibly eat that." I try with all my might to fight back. "Oh really? And why not? Who says?" I push myself to the exact opposite of what the ED is telling me. It is extremely difficult. Every day is different. This week my goal to make fast food a neutral food. This seems impossible! But whack I will! This game is mine.
Live on!
-Kristy
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