Changes: Part II
After attempting recovery through a variety of paths, and failing continuously, I forged something that worked. Paramount to this success was the decision to believe that my eating disorder was a symptom of something greater. This belief asked “What else is there, What else am I?” I was able to separate from my anorexia in a way I previously could not. I cannot emphasis adequately the gravity of this subtle mental shift, how crucial it was to my recovery.
There are two words in the Spanish language for the English verb “to be”, ser and estar. The latter is used to describe states of being, physical and emotional, while the former is reserved for that pertinent to identity: personality, age, nationality. That decision to believe my eating disorder was just a symptom separated it from my identity. My association with my disease changed from ser to estar.
With this separation in mind, I sought the help of a non-ED specific psychologist. After two months of therapy, I forced myself through a refeed (not medically supervised), attempting to repair my metabolism and hormones. I stopped restricting so severely and instead began to exercise compulsively. I would eat near maintenance but feel unsafe if I had not completed that day’s two hours of cardio. I know this damaged my body in other ways, but I was no longer starving. When I could not work out I would experience extreme anxiety. I still sought perfection, but separated this more and more from my identity.
Many previous attempts at recovery had failed because I had tried to fix my mind without nourishing my body. How naive, to think the two are disparate. These obsessive workouts were how I made myself feel okay about eating, and I took comfort in the knowledge that, if I was patient, my body would eventually trust me and let me stop thinking about food.
So I developed this terribly unhealthy relationship with the gym. It is always miserable to act out of the of compulsion restlessness, and every second I spent in the gym I knew it was just so I could eat, so I might continue towards perfection. The obsession would continue for years, waning slightly with time. I thought this was all there was.
And then serendipity guided me to a gym with wonderful and caring trainers who introduced me to intelligently designed strength training and conditioning. Our progress is measured with tangible metrics so I actively experience myself becoming stronger and fitter. It is not that I stopped caring what I looked like, I still want to be the best version of me that I can, but that lithe little girl who floats so angelically, I saw how sick she is. I saw that she is weak. I saw that she is not me, who I was, or who I want to become. I dismissed aesthetics for the first time in my life, and now train making every workout a celebration of being alive, a celebration of life.
Doing this while nourishing my body, I do not worry about what I look like. No one is ugly when they act out of love and respect, but this love and respect must be applied to the self as well.