The Helix of Old Wounds

A few months ago, I moved back to NYC. Prior to the move, I'd been telling my therapy group that I knew I'd be getting back into meetings, as the recovery is amazingly strong in the city. Before my arrival, I'd envisioned that when I came back to my "home group" (from 8 years ago), I'd walk into a room of familiar faces... faces that would remember me.

As soon as I arrived in the city, I went back to my home group. The room had changed. Gone were the old spongy donated couches I used to sit on. The room had been painted and cleaned of clutter, the only remaining furniture was a circle of chairs. I recognized one person. And they didn't recognize me. My ego was, at the very least, humbled... Since then, I've been going to the same Sunday meeting for the last couple of months--I haven't exactly jumped into meetings; I'm slowly integrating myself back.

So, this past week, I made a few phone calls to people from the Sunday meeting, and I was amazed (hurt, baffled, pissed, etc.) that they didn't know who I was! Call it a case of an "egomaniac with an inferiority complex," but I (or rather, my ego) felt extremely hurt by this. Hadn't I dazzled them enough with my shares (Ha,ha)? How could they not remember who I was, when I talked to them after the meeting, albeit a brief encounter? My HP is probably laughing at me...

Yesterday, I returned to the meeting. I felt this extreme sadness throughout, and while I should've shared, I didn't. Rather, after the meeting, when a woman I knew at the meeting asked me how I was, I became a volcano of sadness, my tears erupting and pouring out everywhere. The embarrassing thing for me was that my sadness was triggered by these phone calls, something seemingly small.

The issue is that it brought up this feeling of not being a part of, which is something I'd felt throughout my life. Nobody knew me, I didn't count. I was invisible. I wasn't a part of this recovery clique... blah, blah, blah.

Now I know these are wounds from the girl I once was, and this is a perfect example of how old wounds never dissipate entirely; rather, like my therapist says, our issues resurface like a helix: they will come up again and again, but, over time, they will have less intensity, as you work through them. But they always resurface. That has definitely proven to be true for me. Where, at one time, certain issues would be emotionally debilitating to me, today, they may cause pain for a few hours or a day, but then I move on.

So, for today, I will try not to have expectations about how people will (or how I think they should) react to me.

Conscious Contact with Reality

Hi Everyone,

Today I'm focusing on "reality," which is something ED hates. Reality tells me that it's okay to be a "normal" weight, and reminds me that while the isolation of living in the ED mindset can feel comforting and powerful, it is all an illusion... the same way our minds play tricks on us to tell us we're fat.

Reality, for me, is about honesty. I know I post a lot about honesty, but isn't that what it's all about? When I tell myself, "It's okay, you don't need to eat," when I'm physically hungry, or when I tell myself, "Just finish the rest, you can start again tomorrow," when I'm holding my stomach because I'm clearly full, I'm not living an honest recovery.

Today, I'm trying to live in reality and listen to what the quiet ED voices in my head are saying, because when I listen to the subtle voices--the voices that seem like no big deal, but could actually be the most seductive, insidious, and manipulative voices--I eventually start listening to the overt ED messages that send me straight to the grocery store or to the toilet.

For today, having conscious contact with reality means to eat what's on my food plan, don't listen to ED voices that will only sabotage my recovery and make me feel guilty, and to have the COURAGE to either pick up or put down the fork when I cross over to emotional eating.

Recovery teaches me everyday that it is really just one day at a time.

Hunger is... okay.

It's funny... prior to recovery, I spent so many years vacillating from bingeing and purging to starving myself, intentionally trying to feel physically empty. Yet, in recovery, I've become afraid to feel that which I used to crave... hunger. It's not the type of thing where I'm afraid to feel the grumbling in my stomach before a meal; actually, now that I'm writing, I'm not even sure that it's fear...

At the treatment centers I so humbly crawled to in the summer of 2001, we ate in an extremely regimented way (of course), being served up breakfast, lunch, dinner... and meta. Meta, or metabolic, went against the grain of every eating disordered bone in my body. Eat a snack before bed to regulate blood sugar? Moreover, it went against the dogmas of the most popular diets, which told me not to eat past eight in the evening, or no carbs past the afternoon. Dogmas that even Oprah buys into.

I'd always prided myself on going to bed on an empty stomach, hoping that I'd wake up (and feel) one more pound lighter. Just one more, and I'll feel okay about myself.

Ever since my discharge from the rehabs that saved my life, I've eaten meta every night. It's a great plan. That said, the compulsive eater in me sends warning signals to my brain if I don't eat meta, or if I don't eat every 4-5 hours the way I've been conditioned to eat.

So, yesterday, after some probing questions from my therapist, I found myself at another level of honesty in my recovery. What I know is that I don't have to always eat something just because my brain tells me I should. Now, DO NOT get this confused with some type of anorexic cognitive distortion--this is hardly that. This is me being honest with myself about the fact that I still emotionally eat, in small doses.

I've been complaining (for years) that I just want to eat cleanly. I'll eat cleanly for the entire day, and then at the end of the night, I'll eat something--that "thing" that I'm hoping will make me feel "whatever," but in actuality makes me feel guilty and increases my self-loathing--I don't really need, just to sabotage me, mentally.

Well, I'm happy to report that last night, I, finally, went to bed without sabotaging myself! It was a little uncomfortable to go to bed without the maladaptive comfort of knowing I screwed up my perfectly clean abstinence yet again. But today, I feel so happy that I honored self-honesty.

This has triggered many thoughts and questions... I'd like to be able to not have to rely on "perfect" abstinence in order to feel good about my recovery. That's very black and white, eating disordered thinking. I wonder if anyone reading this has come to a mental middle ground with their recovery? More next post...

The Forgettable Face of Honesty

The last week has been somewhat of a controlled food frenzy. I didn't go binge or anything, but I had several consecutive days of eating whatever. This is where my abstinence can get tricky, because I can, basically, eat whatever I want... in small doses.

After a while of eating freely, though, I accumulate both a mental and physical buildup, which leaves me feeling guilty and fat. This is never a good pattern for me to fall into. It has, in the past, been a setup for relapse. So, today, I knew I'd have to get honest with myself, and employ more structure to my food plan.

If I've learned anything throughout my recovery journey, it's that I can use as many tools as I want to--going to meetings, using a food plan, picking up the telephone, sponsorship, using a treatment team, etc.--BUT, none of them really matter if I'm not honest with myself.

I may coast on the coattails of self-will for a while, but, eventually, it will catch up to me.

While I don't attend "The Program" at present, the one phrase from the literature that never leaves my mind is the part in the Big Book stating, "There are those who are constitutionally incapable of getting honest with themselves."

That phrase snaps me back into reality, to remind me to get honest about my own level of self-honesty... if that makes any sense.

I now have a daily reminder alarm on my phone to remind me to wake-up and get honest. It's amazing how easy it is to forget about honesty! In times of stress, no, actually, ANYTIME, I can be lured by this or that food, forgetting that IF IM HONEST WITH MYSELF, then I don't really want what I'm reaching for.

What I'm craving in the moment is much deeper than food.

I've said it before, and I'm saying it again (for myself)...Self Honesty IS the BEST POLICY!!!!

The Discipline of Recovery

When I was in the depths of hell with my bulimia, my mother used to rant, "All you need is structure and discipline to help your habits ." Besides being completely reductive, to some extent, she was right. I didn't have structure, nor discipline; I was totally out of control.

Years later, while studying The Road Less Traveled in my philosophy class, discipline popped up again. Dr. Peck stated four components to discipline:

1. Delaying Gratification
2. Acceptance of Responsibility
3. Dedication to Truth
4. Balancing

Yesterday, I picked up the book again, and after reading about discipline, I had to get honest with myself about my own discipline, or rather, lack thereof.

While I'm very disciplined in my studies, my work, meeting deadlines, etc., I'm not disciplined at all with my food. I've always prided myself on this, because I don't want to be tethered to Tupperware containers or have to eat exactly what's on my food plan, in order to say I'm abstinent. For me, that isn't freedom. However, I feel guilty much of the time for my food choices--because I don't eat perfectly.

What does this have to do with discipline? Well... even in abstinence, I don't like to delay gratification. Because I don't have good and bad foods, I eat what I want. Rarely, do I delay gratification.

My point is that I'd like to be able to delay gratification with my food, and not eat something just because I think it will provide me with nutrition that will emotionally nurture me.

Connecting With Others

I don't know about you, but one of the main purposes for my eating disorder was that I was, essentially, trying to connect with others. It seems ironic, as my eating disorder became the great divider in any relationship I encountered.

On the one hand, I wanted to be by myself... please, everyone just leave me alone so I can self-destruct, please. However, one of the main catalysts for my behavior was my unquenchable thirst for a connection with others, with myself, hell, anyone, to fill the seemingly infinite emptiness (or loneliness) I felt.

In early recovery, I learned that the wounds from lost connections of family members, or others, could be healed, to some degree, by others. Not in a pathological, codependent way. Rather, a supportive way. In essence, I could create a new, almost like a surrogate, family that could help me get my lost childhood and stunted developmental needs met. I was told that creating this new family and leaning on others would help me learn to take care of my own needs. There's really much more to this, but I'm sure you get the gist.

The people who told me all of this were so right. While I still have days when I feel emotionally dehydrated, I'm not the emotional sponge I once was. I don't need people the way I once did, mainly, because the people in my life are constants. I don't have to worry that they will abandon me if I don't see them everyday. Not only do the people in my life fulfill a need in me, but, I fulfill a need in them... in a healthy way.

More on this later...

Being Gentle Wth Myself

My therapist keeps reminding me that I don't need to be so hard on myself. I often wonder what it would be like to go through my day without saying... you should've done this... if you would've only done it that way... why did you have to do X... blah, blah, blah. I don't know if there are people who walk around with clear minds, but wouldn't it be nice for one day, or rather, one hour, to have complete mental freedom? But then, I'd probably be bored. What else could I possibly have to think about, if I didn't have these mindless, all-consuming distractions?

I have this running list, both on paper and in my head, of "things to do," which helps my organization, but also fuels my self-imposed guilt. If, and when, I finish my list of things to do, offering my mind a chance to be "free" for a moment, then the body image obsession creeps in, tainting any possible relaxation for my overactive brain.

Did I mention I get headaches daily?

I constantly crave freedom from my mental obsessions, yet, because I'm unable, or rather, keep choosing to fuel these maladaptive thoughts, I beat myself up about having the thoughts--which perpetuates the unhealthy, cyclical cognitive process. Argh.

So, today, I'm going to try to be gentle with myself about these thoughts. It's my perfectionism (and my ego) that tells me I "shouldn't" be having these thoughts, and that my mind "should" be clear. Why shouldn't I have these thoughts? I was shackled by an active eating disorder for nearly 17 years... how can I think that the very thoughts and feelings that created something that lasted so long will dissipate just because I've had some abstinent time? Ahh...the joys of unrealistic expectations. Oh, how they plague me.

Today, I will PAY ATTENTION to what I'm telling myself about what I "should" and "should not" do, and then "CHOOSE" to think differently... one thought at a time.