I am in a much different, much better place than when I last wrote to you. I still consider my eyes "distorted, conniving lenses". That's never going to change. Just because I am in recovery doesn't mean I'm going to like you. It means I'm going to learn how to look at you in different, more positive ways. Rather than seeing you as a flaw that needs countless fixing, I see you as a thing that moves me and enables me to accomplish tasks. At least, I'm working on it.
I'm learning how to be comfortable in you. I stop to appreciate the warm smell of books. I listen to songs that are soothing to my insides. I mindfully enjoy my dogs' kisses. I enjoy the taste of sugary things without feeling like I've lost total control. My arms don't feel weak anymore when I brush my teeth. I can walk up flights of stairs without getting chest pains. I don't get fainting spells anymore.
Like I said, I'm probably not going to like you, but I can like what you allow me to do. So often, I wish I could regain the space between my thighs. I wish my thighs were the size of my calves, but I am thankful that they allow me to walk long distances without getting weak. I wish my arms didn't look so gelatinous, but that means I can hold my dogs for much longer. I wish my belly didn't protrude so much, but that means there's more to protect what's inside it.
Even though I acknowledge, logically, what you can do for me when properly nourished, I have been slowly tip-toeing back to my old ways. However, I know that I will be OK because "recovery is a process, not a destination." Sometimes, my mind gets the best of me and I don't make pro-recovery choices and it's scary how instantaneously a switch can turn on/off in my brain to get caught up in a behavior. Honestly, I can not envision a life where I don't count calories or not feel like a complete and utter failure when I grab seconds at a Thanksgiving dinner. I can't imagine myself eating out at a restaurant and just ordering whatever sounds good at the moment, instead of choosing the least-caloric meal on the menu. I can't conceptualize giving up my measuring tools, and I definitely can not visualize a life where I don't weigh myself. I wish I could be like those who eat whenever and whatever they want without worrying about their weight.
I have betrayed and deserted you for 11 years, so I understand that it will take a while to earn your trust back. But I will not give up just like how you did not give up on me.
Sincerely,
Liz
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Thank you, Marya Hornbacher
When I was deep in my eating disorder, I was desperate to feel a connection to anything and anyone. I felt alone and isolated from the rest of the world because, well, that's the nature of eating disorders. So ever since I was young - and even now - I found comfort in books and movies about suicide, abandoned children, broken families, and betrayal.
The day I entered treatment was the first time I read about somebody with an eating disorder. Before that, I've never spoken openly with anyone with any sort of mental illness. Many reviews said the book may be triggering, but to me, it was my refuge, my sanctuary. I can read this passage now and see so clearly that I am in a much better place than I was just several months ago.
“People with eating disorders tend to be very diametrical thinkers – everything is the end of the world, everything rides on this one thing, and everyone tells you you're very dramatic, very intense, and they see it as an affectation, but it´s actually just how you think. It really seems to you that the sky will fall if you are not personally holding it up. On the one hand, this is sheer arrogance; on the other hand, this is a very real fear. And it isn't that you ignore the potential repercussions of your actions. You don't think there are any. Because you are not even there.”
-Marya Hornbacher, Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia
The day I entered treatment was the first time I read about somebody with an eating disorder. Before that, I've never spoken openly with anyone with any sort of mental illness. Many reviews said the book may be triggering, but to me, it was my refuge, my sanctuary. I can read this passage now and see so clearly that I am in a much better place than I was just several months ago.
“People with eating disorders tend to be very diametrical thinkers – everything is the end of the world, everything rides on this one thing, and everyone tells you you're very dramatic, very intense, and they see it as an affectation, but it´s actually just how you think. It really seems to you that the sky will fall if you are not personally holding it up. On the one hand, this is sheer arrogance; on the other hand, this is a very real fear. And it isn't that you ignore the potential repercussions of your actions. You don't think there are any. Because you are not even there.”
-Marya Hornbacher, Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Not so smooth-sailing
Recovering from an eating disorder takes a difference approach than recovering from alcoholism or drug addiction. Substance abuse can be reduced to the deceptively simple focus of keeping away from the crack. But you can't keep away from food even if you wanted to. When you go to rehab for an ED, you are taught how to eat "normal" portions like a "normal" person, how to feel about and around food, and how to monitor your hunger/fullness, among other things. When you go to rehab for drugs and alcohol, you are closely monitored to make sure you stay clean during your stay.
What does getting help with depression mean? Learning to keep away from your own mind? It would be a whole lot easier to get rid of Jameson than Liz.
When I was in treatment, it was easy for me to go through the motions; my motto was "fake it 'til you make it." I thought eating healthily and having psychotherapy sessions for hours on end day after day would help with my depression. But I found myself having no ED behaviors for 6 months and still hating myself. Drug addicts, alcoholics, and people with eating disorders have the crutch of a tangible problem, so there are places they could be taken to for help. There are no halfway houses for depressives, no Depression Anonymous that I know of. Instead, depressives are under-treated by psychiatrists. I think this may be a reason why depressives go so far as adapting a tangible problem or committing suicide to get some "real help".
Rehab of any kind is not like a conveyor belt that you ride for 30 days or 30 weeks or however long it takes to get better. You're not pushed off the assembly line all fresh and spanking new, ready to start all over again. It's not a fairy tale where things get worse before they get better and there's a happily ever after. Things get worse, get better, get a little - or much - worse, get better, get worse...you get the picture. It's not like a college course that you take for months, prepare for the exam, pass the exam, and move on with life like it never happened.
Being in recovery is like being a used car. You have to take it to the shop to make sure all its parts are functioning well enough to take on the road. You have to be very gentle and cautious with it to make it last as long as possible before inevitably returning to the shop for something that never really stays fixed. It will always be a used car. You will always be in recovery.
For me, the most infuriating thing about eating disorders is how accepting society is of them. The American definition of "beauty" is so skewed and fucked up, and I do not see it ever changing. People are reduced to merely their looks. On TV and in movies, the attractive ones always end up winning the man/woman and the ugly ones are stupid and lonely. If 2 different people are applying for the same job, the employer will hire the more "attractive" one because people are socialized to believe that attractive people are smarter, more approachable, more successful, and overall, better.
If somebody looks thinner (I'll use a female example), her friends compliment her on how much prettier she looks. Little do they know that that person became thinner by restricting and vomiting, and this positive reinforcement only motivates the person to continue in her eating disorder. After all, receiving acceptance due to her eating disorder is better than no acceptance. Because she is now "prettier", she has friends - or people who never knew was alive, now acknowledges her existence - and is invited to social events. They all go drinking and she, being already so self-destructive, begins to out drink everyone. This calls for even more positive reinforcement as she is considered fun, down-to-earth, sexy. She tells her friends she has to pee, which the friends don't know really means, "I'm going to go purge because alcohol has calories". She stumbles home hungry because of the purge and the drunkenness so she binges and purges, then wakes up the next day only to remember how much excitement has entered her life due to her new thinner look. So she continues to do what she knows brings acceptance. You see the cycle?
Ugh. Thanksgiving's coming up.
What does getting help with depression mean? Learning to keep away from your own mind? It would be a whole lot easier to get rid of Jameson than Liz.
When I was in treatment, it was easy for me to go through the motions; my motto was "fake it 'til you make it." I thought eating healthily and having psychotherapy sessions for hours on end day after day would help with my depression. But I found myself having no ED behaviors for 6 months and still hating myself. Drug addicts, alcoholics, and people with eating disorders have the crutch of a tangible problem, so there are places they could be taken to for help. There are no halfway houses for depressives, no Depression Anonymous that I know of. Instead, depressives are under-treated by psychiatrists. I think this may be a reason why depressives go so far as adapting a tangible problem or committing suicide to get some "real help".
Rehab of any kind is not like a conveyor belt that you ride for 30 days or 30 weeks or however long it takes to get better. You're not pushed off the assembly line all fresh and spanking new, ready to start all over again. It's not a fairy tale where things get worse before they get better and there's a happily ever after. Things get worse, get better, get a little - or much - worse, get better, get worse...you get the picture. It's not like a college course that you take for months, prepare for the exam, pass the exam, and move on with life like it never happened.
Being in recovery is like being a used car. You have to take it to the shop to make sure all its parts are functioning well enough to take on the road. You have to be very gentle and cautious with it to make it last as long as possible before inevitably returning to the shop for something that never really stays fixed. It will always be a used car. You will always be in recovery.
For me, the most infuriating thing about eating disorders is how accepting society is of them. The American definition of "beauty" is so skewed and fucked up, and I do not see it ever changing. People are reduced to merely their looks. On TV and in movies, the attractive ones always end up winning the man/woman and the ugly ones are stupid and lonely. If 2 different people are applying for the same job, the employer will hire the more "attractive" one because people are socialized to believe that attractive people are smarter, more approachable, more successful, and overall, better.
If somebody looks thinner (I'll use a female example), her friends compliment her on how much prettier she looks. Little do they know that that person became thinner by restricting and vomiting, and this positive reinforcement only motivates the person to continue in her eating disorder. After all, receiving acceptance due to her eating disorder is better than no acceptance. Because she is now "prettier", she has friends - or people who never knew was alive, now acknowledges her existence - and is invited to social events. They all go drinking and she, being already so self-destructive, begins to out drink everyone. This calls for even more positive reinforcement as she is considered fun, down-to-earth, sexy. She tells her friends she has to pee, which the friends don't know really means, "I'm going to go purge because alcohol has calories". She stumbles home hungry because of the purge and the drunkenness so she binges and purges, then wakes up the next day only to remember how much excitement has entered her life due to her new thinner look. So she continues to do what she knows brings acceptance. You see the cycle?
Ugh. Thanksgiving's coming up.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Trustworthy Relationships and Unconditionally Safe Territory
Trust is a scary thing. It comes with such a high cost - betrayal. The effects of betrayal can be so damaging.When somebody trusts you me, I feel like so much is expected of me. Sometimes too much. Not that I don't believe I can live up to those expectations, but just the fact that those expectations exist, is scary and nerve-racking.
Maybe they're not so much as expectations as they are standards. A person trusts me because that person holds me to a certain standard - reliable, competent, and honest. In other words, trustworthy. Like when I trust the doctor to prescribe me the right medicine, or my sweater to keep me warm. When someone trusts me and confides in me, it triggers anxiety and makes me think about past instances in which I provided evidence of reliability, competence, and honesty. It makes me second guess myself. I do believe I am trustworthy. I do.
Maybe it's not so much the standards that scare me. It may be the confiding that I am scared of. The confidential information that person tells me that causes me to worry, dwell, and obsess about the person's well-being.
Today someone trusted me and told me a piece of information that I have been obsessing over ever since. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for receiving his trust, but I am more grateful that he has found the comfort that comes from trusting someone. It really brought to the forefront the things we have in common and opened up the way to more meaningful conversation and connection. But at the same time, it brought on other emotions like fear, sadness, helplessness, guilt, and resentment. They're so strong that I almost wish he hadn't told me - I guess that makes me selfish and cowardly. Almost. However, the strongest emotion was relief because we were finally able to put our guards down and invite us to get to know each other better.
There should be more trust in the world. But that only comes from having more trustworthy people and that's where the problem lies. I feel like people are becoming increasingly manipulative and self-serving - in other words, unethical. How do we create trustworthy people? Let us start with ourselves.
Maybe they're not so much as expectations as they are standards. A person trusts me because that person holds me to a certain standard - reliable, competent, and honest. In other words, trustworthy. Like when I trust the doctor to prescribe me the right medicine, or my sweater to keep me warm. When someone trusts me and confides in me, it triggers anxiety and makes me think about past instances in which I provided evidence of reliability, competence, and honesty. It makes me second guess myself. I do believe I am trustworthy. I do.
Maybe it's not so much the standards that scare me. It may be the confiding that I am scared of. The confidential information that person tells me that causes me to worry, dwell, and obsess about the person's well-being.
Today someone trusted me and told me a piece of information that I have been obsessing over ever since. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for receiving his trust, but I am more grateful that he has found the comfort that comes from trusting someone. It really brought to the forefront the things we have in common and opened up the way to more meaningful conversation and connection. But at the same time, it brought on other emotions like fear, sadness, helplessness, guilt, and resentment. They're so strong that I almost wish he hadn't told me - I guess that makes me selfish and cowardly. Almost. However, the strongest emotion was relief because we were finally able to put our guards down and invite us to get to know each other better.
There should be more trust in the world. But that only comes from having more trustworthy people and that's where the problem lies. I feel like people are becoming increasingly manipulative and self-serving - in other words, unethical. How do we create trustworthy people? Let us start with ourselves.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Valuable member of society
That's me!!
Recently, I got a job as a substitute teacher for an awesome company and after less than a week of working, I was offered a permanent teaching position. I am one of the few people who can honestly say, "I love my job." My mom was bathing one of my dogs when I told her the news and she screamed with excitement and clapped her hands like a little girl. I haven't seen her so happy since I got accepted to college 6 years ago. Her reaction and a friend's willingness to celebrate really make me feel good about myself. Having loved ones' support is my biggest motivator and I'm very fortunate to have such people in my life.
Although I love teaching kids, I'll only be doing it for a year. I've decided to go back to school next year to study psychology. I'm so so SO excited to go back to school!! Being around driven students and passionate professors, learning about various cultures and theories, writing papers after papers after papers. I love and miss everything about school - even pulling all-nighters during finals weeks and my compulsive obsession of planning every hour of every day. Plus, it feels good to finally have something to look forward to.
Oh, and I quit smoking cigarettes! It's been nearly a month and I still can't believe it. After 11 years of smoking, I have turned to the patch. The smell of cigarette smoke makes me weak but, surprisingly, drinking helps with the cravings. The worst part about quitting is the sleep. It once took me 4 hours to fall asleep and it feels impossible to lie comfortably. The best part is also the sleep. I've read that wearing the patch to sleep causes vivid dreams so, of course, that's what I decided to do. I like waking up to the thought, "Oh shit, that felt so real!!!" Mostly my dreams are nightmares, but I like having my adrenaline rush, even if it's when I'm asleep.
So, back to being a valuable member of society, I feel pretty damn proud of myself and I will not let anyone make me feel otherwise or stop me from what I want to do. :)
Recently, I got a job as a substitute teacher for an awesome company and after less than a week of working, I was offered a permanent teaching position. I am one of the few people who can honestly say, "I love my job." My mom was bathing one of my dogs when I told her the news and she screamed with excitement and clapped her hands like a little girl. I haven't seen her so happy since I got accepted to college 6 years ago. Her reaction and a friend's willingness to celebrate really make me feel good about myself. Having loved ones' support is my biggest motivator and I'm very fortunate to have such people in my life.
Although I love teaching kids, I'll only be doing it for a year. I've decided to go back to school next year to study psychology. I'm so so SO excited to go back to school!! Being around driven students and passionate professors, learning about various cultures and theories, writing papers after papers after papers. I love and miss everything about school - even pulling all-nighters during finals weeks and my compulsive obsession of planning every hour of every day. Plus, it feels good to finally have something to look forward to.
Oh, and I quit smoking cigarettes! It's been nearly a month and I still can't believe it. After 11 years of smoking, I have turned to the patch. The smell of cigarette smoke makes me weak but, surprisingly, drinking helps with the cravings. The worst part about quitting is the sleep. It once took me 4 hours to fall asleep and it feels impossible to lie comfortably. The best part is also the sleep. I've read that wearing the patch to sleep causes vivid dreams so, of course, that's what I decided to do. I like waking up to the thought, "Oh shit, that felt so real!!!" Mostly my dreams are nightmares, but I like having my adrenaline rush, even if it's when I'm asleep.
So, back to being a valuable member of society, I feel pretty damn proud of myself and I will not let anyone make me feel otherwise or stop me from what I want to do. :)
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
I guess you could call this my bucket list.
This is what I came up with in under 10 minutes:
1. Cook all the recipes in one of Gordon Ramsay's cookbooks.
2. Compose a piano piece.
3. Sponsor a child through an NGO and visit him/her.
4. Knit my own winter socks.
5. Foster dogs.
6. Run my own eating disorders support group.
7. Attend one of Ellen De Generes's shows.
8. Have sex in a swimming pool (private, not public, of course).
9. Go to India, France, and Lebanon, and EAT.
10. Quit smoking.
1. Cook all the recipes in one of Gordon Ramsay's cookbooks.
2. Compose a piano piece.
3. Sponsor a child through an NGO and visit him/her.
4. Knit my own winter socks.
5. Foster dogs.
6. Run my own eating disorders support group.
7. Attend one of Ellen De Generes's shows.
8. Have sex in a swimming pool (private, not public, of course).
9. Go to India, France, and Lebanon, and EAT.
10. Quit smoking.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
I'm bored and restless, but is that a bad thing?
The American culture pushes people to be in constant motion. People always have to be somewhere, always have to be doing something. I feel like the human relationship with time had changed radically since the rise of the Machine during the Industrial Revolution. Humans no longer move at nature's pace, by the passing of the seasons, and the natural cycles of life and planets. Everything is so sped up and discombobulated. And that's how I feel - frazzled, out of synch, disconnected. For me, these time pressures disconnect me from my natural rhythm and leave me feeling further and further behind. In this advanced, highly complex society, I find myself rushing to keep up, destroying my own sanity.
I want to reconnect with my natural rhythm. Like animals. Animals accept their own state of being and that of others; they live for the moment. Likewise, plants cycle gracefully through life as they emerge, bloom, flourish, then wither away. Humans have such a violent need for control and a crippling inability to accept their own state of being. Anti-aging cosmetics, plastic surgery, "mid-life crisis", all imply the incapability of acceptance - a need for change.
America is all about making money and keeping busy. It makes many people, including myself, feel a sense of diminished success. It pathologizes idle, resting time, calling it "laziness" and a "waste of time". In Nepal, people dedicate 8 hours of their day gathered around drinking tea, appreciating another day of life and togetherness. America doesn't even want to take a break to eat, being the largest fast-food consumer in the world. Even communication is harmed by the technologically-crazed culture and the need for "efficiency". The problem with that in modern culture is that efficiency is synonymous with speed. This affects people's tolerance and the quality of language and communication. I'm going off topic.
Back to the idea of keeping busy, I have been having trouble doing so. I spend the majority of my days watching Netflix and journaling. I've watched many episodes and many seasons of many TV shows, my journal is running out of pages, and the couch has a crater where I sit. Recently, I started practicing more piano, but it's been difficult due to lack of inspiration. I need some inspiration. I should be getting a response from my job interviews within the next couple weeks, and IF I get hired, I will have a work schedule which means I will be able to commit to volunteering for an amazing organization called School on Wheels. Maybe that will get me inspired. Who knows. Basically, this fast-paced, "efficient", and need-to-be-busy culture causes me anxiety and distress. I just want to move at my own natural pace, free of guilt.
I want to reconnect with my natural rhythm. Like animals. Animals accept their own state of being and that of others; they live for the moment. Likewise, plants cycle gracefully through life as they emerge, bloom, flourish, then wither away. Humans have such a violent need for control and a crippling inability to accept their own state of being. Anti-aging cosmetics, plastic surgery, "mid-life crisis", all imply the incapability of acceptance - a need for change.
America is all about making money and keeping busy. It makes many people, including myself, feel a sense of diminished success. It pathologizes idle, resting time, calling it "laziness" and a "waste of time". In Nepal, people dedicate 8 hours of their day gathered around drinking tea, appreciating another day of life and togetherness. America doesn't even want to take a break to eat, being the largest fast-food consumer in the world. Even communication is harmed by the technologically-crazed culture and the need for "efficiency". The problem with that in modern culture is that efficiency is synonymous with speed. This affects people's tolerance and the quality of language and communication. I'm going off topic.
Back to the idea of keeping busy, I have been having trouble doing so. I spend the majority of my days watching Netflix and journaling. I've watched many episodes and many seasons of many TV shows, my journal is running out of pages, and the couch has a crater where I sit. Recently, I started practicing more piano, but it's been difficult due to lack of inspiration. I need some inspiration. I should be getting a response from my job interviews within the next couple weeks, and IF I get hired, I will have a work schedule which means I will be able to commit to volunteering for an amazing organization called School on Wheels. Maybe that will get me inspired. Who knows. Basically, this fast-paced, "efficient", and need-to-be-busy culture causes me anxiety and distress. I just want to move at my own natural pace, free of guilt.
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