Tag: recovery

your struggle is real. your struggle is valid.

if you’re reading this in the united states, you are most likely aware that thanksgiving was celebrated this past week. if you’re reading this in the united states and struggle with an eating disorder or disordered eating, you are most likely very aware that thanksgiving was this past week. on thanksgiving i found myself having a conversation with some friends from treatment about how this day is extra hard for us, with festivities centered so much on food, and (usually) well-intentioned relatives making comments about our bodies or our eating habits that are more hurtful than they probably realize. i shared my fears of having to hear about how “healthy” and how much “better” i look, of meticulously planning out my plate and still not knowing what kind of comments i’d get, if it’d be “thats it?!”, “not enough”, or “you’re eating that?!”. i talked about how i was afraid i shouldn’t be eating that morning, or maybe not even the day before.

even though i had all of these fears that i’m fairly certain none of my other family members had, and even though the majority of these fears did in fact become realities, i was convinced i didn’t deserve to be a part of this conversation. i worried my eating disorder wasn’t real or serious enough to warrant me being a part of this conversation with people that i met in treatment for a diagnosed eating disorder about the struggles i was undoubtedly facing in that moment. comparison is a huge part of eating disorder culture, both in the recovery community and in people who are in the depths of their disorder. “so-and-so is sicker than such-and-such because so-and-so has been in the hospital for their disorder 17 times and such-and-such has only been in outpatient treatment.” or “so-and-so looks sicker than such-and-such because so-and-so is at a lower weight.” i’ve always had an excuse as to why i was more of a such-and-such in these situations and less of a so-and-so. when i was at my lowest weight i wasn’t “sick enough” because i wasn’t in the hospital. when i was in treatment i wasn’t “sick enough” because i’d been eating more right before my admission than i had been at other points in time. when i was throwing up six times a day i wasn’t “sick enough” because i looked “normal” enough for no one to notice.

i hate to admit it, but i’ve caught myself passing this judgement onto other people as well, as sort of a way to comparatively validate my struggles, “this person never went to treatment, and are able to say they’re fully recovered and refer to their disorder in the past tense. i don’t think i could ever do that, and i especially wouldn’t be able to without higher-level treatment, let alone no professional intervention at all. therefore, my disorder is real, serious, and valid, and theirs isn’t.” thats where i now know to stop myself. my disorder is real, serious, and valid, and so is theirs, regardless of how different they may be. butterflies and gorillas are both inarguably real animals that definitely exist, but they’re also definitely very different from one another, yet this does not make the butterfly any more real than the gorilla, or vice versa.

another issue with this type of thinking is that the only reason many sufferers have never been in a higher level of care, or even any level of care at all for some, is because treatment for eating disorders and other mental health disorders isn’t the most accessible thing in the world. i’m sure many people do recover on their own, but i’m also sure many who “recovered on their own” are still struggling but have stopped- or never even began- seeking help because they were aware that some insurance companies and some practitioners wouldn’t take them seriously because they were at a higher weight or because they were male, or maybe they knew their insurance didn’t cover any reputable mental health services at all. maybe they didn’t even have insurance. regardless of if inpatient is the optimal level for you and your disorder, or if outpatient (or iop, or php, or res, or whatever else) is a better fit, you deserve to be there and get the care that is most beneficial to you. you deserve to be informed about different treatment options and have access to them.

outside of treatment, people who struggle to any degree at all with their eating, deserve to be respected, avoid hurtful comments, and have the love and compassion of their loved ones communicated effectively, as opposed to in ways that can actually be harmful. most of the general public, at least from what i’ve seen, is not very well-educated on the subject of eating disorders and disordered eating. they don’t understand how their comments on our bodies can be damaging when they’re just trying to help, or show concern, or maybe compliment us on our “progress”. i don’t expect family members to ever fully understand, as how can they, if they’ve never suffered from this illness? but, it would be awesome, not only for me, but for other people who struggle with their eating, if our friends, family members, and acquaintances could be informed enough to avoid the uncomfortable conversations, the conflict, and the unintentional additions to our already persistent battles.

oregon: the lessons: part 2 lessons of love, pain, and learning to say no

i’ve always lived by a sort-of love all philosophy. we’re all universally connected by this thing called love that flows through the cores of our very beings, and it is an energy that we must exchange with every being we encounter. i still believe in this, however these past couple of weeks have had me questioning how i love others. i always assumed others truly needed whatever it was that they were asking for. i mean, why else would they be asking for it? so, i would selflessly give others whatever it was that they demanded, no matter the effects on my own self. this happened a lot in oregon, as I allowed friend/acquaintance/weird tinder man to use, manipulate, and take advantage of me in pretty much any way imaginable. maybe he is acting from a different part of himself, one that confuses what he really needs with what he thinks he needs. maybe he really is trying to love, when really he is hurting others. maybe, just maybe, it isn’t my job to give him what he thinks he needs, what he demands of me, but rather to give him what he really needs, space for healing. i mean, how is he supposed to realize that the love he thinks he’s sharing is really pain? since i arrived home a few days ago, he has called and texted me several times, with messages indicating that he’s been trying to teach me something, and that I should be grateful for him and what he put me through, that those were his intentions, and that they were yet still far from malicious or hurtful. he’s clearly disillusioned, delusional even, regardless of what he sees it as. so i must show him tough love, by saying no, and staying far, and all i can do is hope for the best for him, from many miles away.

the biggest lesson i’ve learned about love and hate, is how easily confused the two are. when i’d tell him no, f/a/wtm would accuse me of hating him. but maybe its best for him to not get what he thinks he wants, and maybe we’re both better off with some distance between us. he would tell me he did every awful thing that he did out of love, because he loves me, because he loves everyone. he very well might love me; he very well might love everyone. maybe hate doesn’t exist. but the energy he was exchanging to me and trying to share with me was definitely not love in the pure, simple sense. it was dirty, contaminated love. more simply put, it was pain. he had some wounds that needed healing. he had some pain he was afraid to feel. so he did what was easy and comfortable for him, and he gave some of that pain to me. that ultimately doesn’t take from his pain, which must keep growing in its own ways until properly addressed. but he comforted himself by saying that the pain is love. and while its been said otherwise about 1238973458y3874592834723432 times, pain is definitely not love.

another saying i’ve heard far too many times: “treat others how you want to be treated.” this might very well be true for most people. but i often forget that i am a valid human being, and deserve to be treated as such. for me personally, i feel like a better saying would be “I deserve to treat myself the way i treat others.” sometimes i forget that i’m a person like everyone else, equally worthy and full of love as they are. i’m a person, not a doormat, and maybe the people that i used to let walk all over me would benefit from learning to walk on their own ground instead, while i love them, either from near or from afar. i established years ago that i love everyone. now, i’m ready to reevaluate and learn better how to love everyone.

oregon: the lessons: part 1 nothing ever goes as planned

if you read my last blog post you’ll know that this trip out to oregon was a very spontaneous, impulsive, last-minute, spur-of-the-moment type thing. most things that i do are. i’m a life path 5 in numerology, its basically the nature of the beast. that being said, i’m also such a planner. in the brief span of time between me having an idea of something i want to do and the execution, i get an idea in my head of exactly how its going to go. in the few days leading up to my departure from baltimore, i had vivid pictures in my mind of things like the house i thought i’d be staying in and the outfit i’d wear to the airport. i typed out a long, thought-out instagram caption in the notes app on my phone, favorited a few photos that i planned on posting with it, and even decided on a good time to post while i was bored at the airport, in between the snacks and drinks from the places i’d already found on the airport map “over the past few years,” i’d typed, “i’ve had the amazing opportunity to live in upstate ny, vermont, colorado, virginia, and now oregon, as well as being able to travel to several other parts of this country and canada, as well as africa. i’m currently struggling to find a word strong enough to express the amount and depth of gratitude that i have for all the places i’ve been able to go, things i’ve been able to do, and all of the beautiful souls i’ve come into contact with along the way. swipe to last pic to see how excited i am for this move !!”.

well that obviously didn’t work out. take two. i booked what appeared to be a decent, but still quite inexpensive, hotel not too far from the airport for a few days, and i was going to adventure around southern oregon by myself, as i knew i needed to work on spending time alone, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so. i made an itinerary for myself that night, with where i was going to eat every meal and what i was going to do and where i was going to be for every hour of my trip, noting exactly how i would get to each destination. i tried again with an instagram caption. “i had a whole caption planned about how excited and grateful i was for the opportunity to move to oregon” i began, “with some guy i barely knew, and how grateful i was for all the people places and things in my life up until that point. sometimes shit happens, and things don’t go as planned, for some reason we can’t explain. my oregon plans began to crumble barely an hour after i bought my plane ticket, less than two days before i was scheduled to fly out. i was devasted, frantic, panicked, afraid. i couldn’t bring myself to cancel my flight. i’d told everyone i knew how excited i was for this move. i was so afraid to admit to any of my family or close friends that i was stupid enough to let someone do me like that and to be unable to make it on my own out there. after sitting and thinking for a couple hours i realized i still had an amazing opportunity. anyone who knows me well knows i suck at being alone. i’m always with people. i’m always talking to someone. being stuck with the loudness of my own thoughts is terrifying for me. and i had a plane ticket to an area i’d never been to, where i could explore, alone, and learn to spend time by myself. if i find a way to stay in oregon, cool. but if not, i have a new experience under my belt. thank you 😌. “

well, oregon didn’t end up being this great solo-journey full of self-discovery that i was starting to envision, either. not too long after i arrived, the man i’d planned on staying with (friend/acquaintance/weird tinder man from my last post) suddenly appeared back in the picture, at the room that was nothing like i’d been anticipating, and i had to recreate my story for a third time. i soon realized that not everything could be so easily calculated. friend/acquaintance/weird tinder man didn’t tell me anything. it was up to me to realize there was no house. it was up to me to figure out where i was staying each night and where my next move was. the only thing up to him was when and where he was going to show up and what he was going to say. and with my unknowing it was impossible for me to plan for him or plan around him. i was forced to learn to ride the uncomfortable wave of uncertainty and face things as they came.

when f/a/wtm stopped responding to my texts upon me telling him about the purchase of my plane ticket, part of the plan b that i began formulating involved what i was going to do after oregon. i figured i’d already packed so much stuff and detached myself from pretty much any commitments back on the east coast, i might as well travel around and live out of my suitcase for a bit longer. i’ve lived in a few different cities in different areas of the country, so i still have friends and connections in these locations, as well as some that i’ve met there who have since relocated to other cities that i haven’t yet had the opportunity to visit. i was pretty certain that some of these friends would be willing to pay for at least a portion of my airfare, and they’d for sure let me stay with them in their home if i was just in town for a visit for a week or so. i ran this idea by some people i was looking to stay with, they all agreed and were excited to see me. that is, until it became time to actually start planning and paying. “would sometime as soon as the end of this week be fine? i know its short notice,” i’d ask. it always was, until i sent a text on thursday to the friend who’d agreed to host me “as soon as friday”, and suddenly “tomorrow” sounded too soon. i’d leave a friends house and tell them, or leave a hotel room and tell f/a/wtm that “i might be going to (vermont/ denver/ syracuse/ kentucky/ wherever else) tomorrow” and that i might never see them again. of course, that never happened. i was trying so hard to avoid going immediately home to virginia that i really didn’t plan on it happening. and i ended up both staying in oregon longer than planned at the last point, and returning to virginia far sooner than planned. maybe this whole trip was gods plan for teaching me that his plan is the only plan, and that i can’t control everything.

fall

as summer ends and fall approaches, the kids go back to school. i’m currently in the midst of a rather long hiatus from formal education, as I focus on healing myself and saving up money and resources to resume my studies. however, this time of year always makes me eager to learn in one way or another, as my friends head back to their universities and the internet and my television are both flooded with back to school ads. i have always been a super big fan of lists, so here is a list of some of the things i want to learn in the near future.

  1. I want to learn to take up space.
    • standing at about 5’2″ and weighing… enough, and thats all that matters, but i digress, i still feel an intense desire, sometimes even a need, to shrink myself. i’ve spent the majority of my days feeling as though i don’t deserve to take up so much space in the physical plane, doing all that i could to destroy my body to its most minimal form. i’ve been working super hard to overcome that, and i have definitely made some progress that is too substantial to go unmentioned. i should be proud of myself, but i’m still learning to allow myself to feel that way towards myself. i’ve learned to accept my body for what it is now, but to be honest, don’t think i would be comfortable at all if i gained any more weight. i’ve always felt that as a female it was my role and my design to be little, and cute, small, and dainty. i see other women all the time, who have larger bodies, and they are just as beautiful and just as feminine as their smaller counterparts. for some reason, however, i have a hard time applying this to myself. being small has become a part of my identity, something i feel myself seeking reassurance of regularly, as i try to fit into conversation seemingly as often as possible “I ONLY WEIGH X LBS!!”, be it when talking about what a lightweight i am as far as substances are concerned, who i could/ couldn’t take in a (hypothetical) fight (“i’m stronger than i look !! i know i’m little but i’m strong for only weighing x lbs !!”), or just about any other way i could squeeze it in.
    • i’m very quiet until i’m spoken to, i’m passive, i’m agreeable, i do what i’m told. i’m never the first to reach out. i’ve definitely gotten better about this, as i learn to speak up more than i have ever really felt comfortable with. however, i want to learn to take up space in the conversation without it having to be such a conscious effort. i want to find balance and learn to take up just as much space as god has intended for one person to take up, on all planes. i should be able to take up as much space as i need, be it all of the space, or maybe a little less some days. i deserve to breathe and be comfortable.
  2. I want to learn to just be.
    • i’ve always been the type of person who always has to be doing something. most nights i wake up in the middle of the night in a state of panic, thinking its midday and i’m late for work, or remembering my laundry or dishes that definitely do not urgently need to be taken care of at 3 am, but for whatever reason i think they do. the whole month of my birthday every year, i spend stressing out over the idea that i might not have enough fun. the other day I went to the beach having set the intention of just being there, not doing anything, simply existing at the beach, admiring the crashing waves and the warm sunlight and how it feels on my skin. but the whole time i was there i felt i had to be doing something. i had to read a book, not because i wanted to be reading at that moment in time, but because it felt productive, like i was doing something to better myself. i had to take a walk, again, not because it was what i felt like doing, but because i had to make sure i took enough steps that day. i had to set a damn schedule for when i rotated my body as i laid in the sun, to make sure i got a nice even tan, because god forbid i just lay however feels comfortable for me and enjoy the feel of the sunlight on my skin.

those are my 2 main ones for now, i’m sure i will add more as the season progresses.

how i learned to love myself

“I was no longer needing to be special, because I was no longer so caught up in my puny separateness that I had to keep proving I was something”

Ram Dass

I started learning to love myself the day I realized it was more selfish for me to hate myself than to love myself. Let me explain. I always had said that I loved everyone. And I did… well kind of. For some reason I allowed myself to be the one person who was excluded from everyone. I really thought that I was that different, and that special that I wasn’t included in the phrase “everyone”. That I didn’t deserve the love, kindness, and compassion that I showed to every other being I had ever encountered. I didn’t realize how separate I viewed myself from a world I wanted so desperately to be an interworking part of. I realized how selfish it was for me to hate myself. So I started my journey towards learning how to love myself. Healing takes time. I still slip up. I still accidentally let the words “I hate myself” fall from my lips from time to time. The only difference is now I realize that its not truly what I mean. And I correct myself. I love myself. I love everyone. And I am a part of everyone.

fomo

i’m in a weird spot in my recovery right now. when i find myself becoming more accepting of my new, larger body, and when i allow myself to comfortably enjoy what was once a huge fear food without having to compensate, i feel proud of myself. but at the same time, i feel so alone and separate. i see a lot of my friends from treatment still struggling, and several heading back into higher levels of care. i see this and i miss being able to relate on such a close level to their struggles. i miss the sense of community within a treatment center. i feel bad for doing well and knowing they still have to struggle. doing well just seems so wrong for me, like its not something i was ever supposed to do. i feel like i’m still supposed to be in the eating disorder community, but i feel so separated from that now that recovery isn’t my whole life anymore.

letting the light in

As I stated in my last post, these past few days/weeks/however long its been has been really good to me. I’ve been allowing myself to take up space, both physically and figuratively, and letting myself feel joy and goodness and warmth so powerful it nearly overtakes me. Things that seem ever so simple, but have always been a struggle for me. I’ve been learning to stop second-guessing what makes me feel good. If I want a cookie, I eat a cookie. If I want to go out, I go out. If I want to stay in, I stay in. Choices that seem so obvious, but for whatever reason seem so hard to make. I’ve learned to ride the waves of life and just let it happen. Letting it all become easy, has been far from easy. Its a constant and conscious effort to stop myself from searching for a reason, an “oh I have more energy because I’ve been eating more of this and less of that,” or “Oh I must be happy because I’ve been spending more time with friend-x, -y, or -z, and based on our natal charts we are wicked compatible, so he/she/they must be the love of my life and we must get married so I absolutely cannot mess this up or say one wrong thing at all or else my life is ruined.” Basically, I jump to conclusions. Drastic conclusions. Rapidly. Don’t get me wrong, a healthy diet and time spent with good people could definitely be, and actually is most likely, contributing to this upward spiral I seem to be in. I acknowledge that. But I am learning that it is super unhealthy for me personally, to get so fixated on the why and how, and make it an obsession. Its a control thing really. Control is good when needed, but if things are good the way they just happen, maybe I should let them just happen. Good feelings won’t last forever, and I know that. But I have made a decision to not worry about the decline until it begins.

mom

my relationship with my mother has never been good. it has never been easy. i’ve always found myself to do my best when she is kept afar, and i don’t have to speak to her often. as i’ve been spending more time around her again, i can feel things getting bad again. things are bad with me and her. things are bad with me and myself. things are bad with me and my dad. i’d go into detail, but quite frankly living with her, and living with my own sick mind, is beyond exhausting. last night i saw her for the first time in about a week. within minutes of her arrival, we were arguing about an avocado, about how i’m useless and can’t do anything right, about how i’ll never be anything more than a big disappointment and that she hates me and regrets giving birth to me. a normal interaction for us, but it reminded me of some of our worst exchanges, sending me into a dark spiral of reading old text messages to my friends where i disclosed some of the most outrageous things that she has said, some of the most outrageous things i have ever heard. sometimes its hard to tell where her craziness ends and mine begins. she denies being anything less than the best, most loving mother, and it has always been hard for me to accept that she is not fully to blame for my struggles, that i myself have to be held accountable, but its just as hard to not believe her when she tells me she hates me, that all of the bad things are my fault, etc. etc. the darkest, most confusing spiral.

we love our mothers,
and the earth
for giving us life,
for providing for us,
and giving us a home.

logically, i should love myself,
for making decisions to create
the future that I want.
for feeding and taking care of my body.

but instead, I beat myself up
over every bad decision,
every mistake,
regardless of how much I enjoyed it,
or what i got out of it.

i despise myself,
for every morsel i eat,
for anything i ever do
to benefit only myself.
i thank my mother
for the opportunity to walk this earth,
yet hate myself for walking it.

the habit of self-destruction

these past few days, this poem that I wrote has really been resonating with me. things have never really gotten easier, I just started doing them anyway. every day is still a struggle, which often leaves me wondering why. why is it so hard? why do I want to give up and do things that I know are no good for me?

I smoke cigarettes
I used to tear open my skin
I've detached myself from my body,
and sold it,
for money and for drugs.
Was I trying to get rid of it?
And give it up entirely to another?
We don't jump off the plane
on our way to vacation,
or dive out of our cars,
as we drive down the highway.
So why should I abort my vessel?

overthinking out loud

WARNING: this post won’t be at all organized and probably won’t make any sense. It won’t be beautiful or poetic. its just a spewing of my thoughts, as they are, in my mind.

I can’t write now. I’m doing too well. I’m not having any crazy thoughts that I need to get out. I’m existing. Happily. Existing. Its mundane but content. I always think I’m doing well. When I look back to what I can now see as some of my worst points, I thought I was doing well. So does that mean that I am hardcore struggling right now, and that I’m in denial? Maybe. What will it take for me to feel my pain? Will I know when I lose X amount of pounds again? Or when I find myself waking up in a hospital again? Maybe I have to put myself through some more trauma, spend time with people that I know are dangerous, put myself into situations that are just, well, bad. Maybe this is just how my life is meant to go, waves of feeling good about how good things are going, crashing and trying to fix things, thinking that I’m doing oh-so-well again, just to crash yet again and realize that my progress was all a lie. I often find myself reminiscing on previous phases of my life, innocent youthful audrina, hot-mess high school audrina, wild party girl audrina, soft and vulnerable in treatment audrina, and whatever other versions of me existed in the past. I wonder what I’ll call this part of my life in a few years. I think about these different pieces of me often, and all of them still exist, coming out in different ways every now and again. Some people might say that I live in the past, spending my morning showers thinking about who I was a year or two ago, falling asleep at night while reading journal entries from when I was in treatment for my eating disorder. I disagree. If we don’t remember the past, and think regularly about the ways we moved on from it, can we really keep it in the past? If I don’t reflect on the worst nights of my life, whats stopping me from reliving them? Or maybe they’re right. I do feel stuck right now, yet unsure what I’m stuck in. Maybe I am stuck in the past. Who knows.