NEDAwareness Week Day 4: On Eating Disorders and the Media

Yesterday I cautioned against saying that the media causes eating disorders. And I absolutely think that is necessary. To say that someone develops an eating disorder simply because of the images they see on TV or in the magazines grossly undermines how severe and grave eating disorders are. They are far too complex to have one single cause, and certainly far too complex to simply be caused by media portrayals of women.

That being said, eating disorders and media portrayals of women are certainly linked.

Often, the foundation of an eating disorder lies in a desire for control and perfection.

And therein lies the problem: our society today unfortunately puts up incredibly, often unhealthy and usually unrealistic body types on the pedestal as the ideal. No woman looks like the women we see in magazines. Many hours go in to retouching facial flaws, the size of one's waist, the placement of a breast or arm or eyebrow. If Barbie was a real woman, she would be unable to bear children. In fact, she would look like this:

Women, wonderful actresses and singers and comedians and politicians and reporters, are constantly degraded in the media because of their body flaws. The same does not happen to men. And thus, society tells young girls that if they are to be perfect, they have to look like the women in the magazines--women who do not exist anywhere on this planet. 

Of course, eating disorders are a largely silent issue among young men, and the media plays a part here as well, telling young men that they need well-defined muscles and a lean body in order to be perfect, well-liked, etc.

So, the bottom line is that the media does not cause eating disorders. But they do feed unhealthy body image among young men and women, pushing them to believe appearance is what is most important  And that to be "perfect," they have to achieve that ideal body shape.

Truthfully, every single person on this earth is absolutely beautiful and perfect just the way they are. I definitely did used to wish I could just naturally be super thin (and I sometimes still do), but I've come to accept that that's not what my genes code me for. I'm relatively thin, yes, but I will never have pencil legs. My thighs will always be muscular and large, allowing me to run and walk and hike and dance. I will never look like a model, because I didn't win that genetic lottery. But I (most of the time) love the way my body is. After years of punishing it, I love it for everything it does for me. Without my body, I couldn't run or dance or laugh or learn or live. My body kept on pushing while I persistently tried to destroy it, and that in itself is amazing.

So this is what I encourage everyone to do: Do your best, every day, to find the one thing about your body you like. Compliment yourself on that piece. Don't shy away from the mirror. Accept people's compliments. You can't see yourself like everyone else does. Someone, somewhere, thinks you are beautiful.

But, importantly, if you think you are beautiful, if you really believe that about yourself, that confidence and light that shines through you only increases your natural beauty.

So don't give in to what society tells us. Find good role models and be a good one for the men and women in your life, of all ages. 

But, do be patient with eating disorder sufferers. This type of acceptance is a long road, one that I'm not even halfway down yet. Recognize that their self-esteem is wrapped up in how they look, and try not to talk about it. Don't tell them they look "healthier" or "better now they aren't so bony" etc. 

For all of the young women in your life, compliment them on who they are and what they do. Not what they look like.

Because heart, intelligence, trust, love, smiles, and confidence will always be more important than external beauty.

Finally, I encourage you to watch these two videos. And offer love and kindness to the young women, the old women, everyone in your life.

NEDAwareness Week 2013 Day 3: How do they start?

Finally going to write an original post today instead of just reusing an old post I wrote while in treatment/relapse/early recovery. :)

(However, I'd also like to point you to this post I wrote in September explaining my own story. Because everyone's story is important, and I hope that my sharing mine, other people will feel empowered to share theirs.)

Today, I'd like to focus on trying to explain how an eating disorder starts. Even with such huge advancements in outreach and research and support, there's still a huge stigma surrounding eating disorders. Society tends to think still that they are the disease of privileged white girls, when in reality, both men and women, of all ages, all backgrounds, all races, etc, suffer from eating disorders. 

10 million women and 1 million men in the US alone suffer from an eating disorder. And every single one of those people feels shame and guilt. They are stigmatized by a society that still does not understand the true gravity of an eating disorder. People don't try to understand the roots and foundations of eating disorders. This lack of awareness only makes it harder for people to recover, find support, feel loved and like a part of society.

It makes it harder, for one thing, for patients to get adequate insurance. Many of my friends experienced this, getting kicked out of treatment before they were ready to leave. I myself experienced this the first time around, although I didn't realize it at the time. Though none of us particularly enjoy treatment, I do think most people (especially myself) who have been through it know that it involves a lot of effort and a lot of time. We know that those months in the hospital truly did save our lives, our bodies, and our souls. Despite the hard days, the tears, the fights, the struggles to eat and talk and feel again, we needed all of that time. 

We can't just be discharged once we're no longer in a "dangerous" weight zone, which is how a lot of insurance companies gauge their coverage. Weight is only one tiny portion of an eating disorder. There's so much more. Ultimately, the roots of an eating disorder dig much deeper than just a desire to lose weight. 

So, why do they start? This is a hard question to answer. First, because the details are personal and unique to each sufferer. Second, because it can take years of therapy for the patient to fully realize why their eating disorder started, and what emotions, trauma, etc, lie behind the behaviors. And, finally, because people who do not suffer find it hard to accept that we might be "doing this" to ourselves, no matter what the reason.

First, I have to focus on that. I know it has been said over and over again, but no one chooses to have an eating disorder. This is hard to explain to a lot of people, I think. Because, yes, in most cases, at one point or another, a man or woman looked in the mirror and didn't like what they saw. They felt insecure. Maybe some of their classmates or a friend called them fat, intentionally or not. At one point or another, yes, maybe we did choose to go on a diet or ran into the bathroom after a meal or started increasing our exercising.

(Note: unfortunately, I really don't know much about bulimia, beyond what I've listened to from friends and read in memoirs. So I can't offer quite as much insight into this disorder  which is unfortunate, as it often receives less treatment and less attention than anorexia. Please visit the NEDA website and read other people's stories to gain an understanding of this disorder as well.)

But we never, ever choose to have an eating disorder. At the beginning, we honestly think what we are doing is innocent. We believe we will stop once we hit that magic number. We believe everything will be okay once our weight, food intake, appearance, etc, are under our control.

Control. Ah, control. That, truly, is the main reason why eating disorders develop. They become a way for us to control one simple piece of our lives. If I can choose what I eat, I have control over my life. Once I hit xx pounds, I'll feel powerful. Once I run every day for xx miles, I'll be in control of how my body works.

Et cetera.

In the meantime, our power to have any sense of control is being ripped out of our hands by a friend we embraced so dearly and quickly cannot find a way to get rid of. 

The reality is, none of us truly has control over our lives. We may choose where we live, where we go to school, what we cook for dinner, how we spend our time. But truthfully, anything can happen at any time in our lives to change our circumstances. 

It's a scary thought, but most people either manage to live without focusing on that anxiety or (unfortunately) find some other coping mechanism: alcohol, drugs, self-harm...

That's what an eating disorder is. It's a coping mechanism. It's a dangerous and extremely deadly one. Which is why, I think, it's especially hard for people to understand why people use it. They think we are choosing it. They think that if we just "ate a cheeseburger" everything would be okay again.

Which is absolutely not true. Weight restoration is a vital part of recovery, yes. But simply having someone gain 40 pounds to be back within a healthy range and then sending them back out of the hospital to deal with life without discussing any other issues is essentially setting them up for failure. Why? Because weight is only one factor. 

Eating disorders aren't really about the food. Either the restriction or the binging. Rather, our anxieties, depression, traumas, loneliness, and a multitude of other emotions, manifest themselves this way. 

Again, any multitude of things can be that trigger for an eating disorder, but among the common causes are:

-trauma (rape, illness, an accident, etc)

-grief (loss of a loved one, illness of a loved one)

-not feeling good enough/feeling overshadowed by a sibling/friend/teammate

-depression

-anxiety

-unhealthy body image/eating habits at home

-an unsafe home environment

-Genetics

-And, of course, societal pressures

However, while I do have many strong opinions on the portrayal of women and thinness in the media, I would caution against saying that the media causes eating disorders. Our society does promote an unhealthy ideal body for women (and men), definitely. But to say that someone develops an eating disorder simply because of the images of models/actresses on TV actually strips away all of the other more important causes of an eating disorder. It, to me at least, portrays people with eating disorders as weak, for giving in to society's pressures, when other people can resist them. Do I think we need to promote healthy bodies in movies, tv, music, and the magazines? Absolutely. 

But, again, no one develops an eating disorder just because they want to look like a model or actress. Rather, often, they develop one because they want to be perfect, in control, they wan to feel powerful and admired by society. And, unfortunately, thinness is how our society currently embodies those characteristics.

The bottom line, here, i think, is to realize how complex eating disorders are. There's no one simple fix. Recovery involves years and years of hard work and vigilance, strength to fight against a power that doesn't easily loosen its grip on our minds. 

We don't choose this. We would get rid of it if we could. But it's just not that simple. Have compassion. Do research. Spread awareness of these truths. Be careful of how you judge people suffering. And keep, as always, spreading the importance of love and faith and breath.

And, again, reach out for help if you or someone you know may be struggling from an eating disorder. NEDA has the best list of resources available, ranging from how to approach your loved one, how to talk to them during treatment, and of course, an extensive list of treatment option.

Everyone knows someone. Keep spreading the awareness and tell the truth about eating disorders. Together, we can break the glass of silence and shame and start working to cure this terrible and crippling disease.

NEDAwareness Week 2013 Day 2: Such a Hard Fight

It's hard to share my story. Luckily, it's a lot easier to share it through writing than through speaking. I have a lot I want to say, but sometimes the words get fuzzy and the emotions get mixed up. That, and I also try my hardest to not trigger anyone who is in the depths of their eating disorder my own story. For sure, I got pretty deep down there into my eating disorder. And while I feel comfortable sharing that with my therapist(s), I'm leery to do so with anyone else because 1) I'm afraid they'll judge me (either for not being "good enough" at my eating disorder or for being absolutely insane) 2) I'm worried I'll trigger someone unknowlingly/give them tips I don't mean to give and 3) Frankly, I know how sick I was back then and it's still scary to remember that. 

For today, since it is quite late and I have to wake up at 5:30 tomorrow morning, I'm going to share a piece I wrote when I was in the depths of relapse. At the time, I knew I was sick. I really did. And I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. Though I didn't like to admit it, I knew very well that I could die if I kept going the way I was going for much longer, restricting my food intake and exercising for hours and hours on end each day. I didn't want to be sick. But I didn't necessarily want to be healthy either.

And therein lies one of the hardest things about fighting and overcoming an eating disorder: The fear. I was afraid of recovering, and I was afraid of continuing to relapse. I was afraid of success and I was afraid of failure. I was afraid of being happy. I was afraid of growing up. I was afraid of living, was what it really came down to. 

I didn't want to die. But I didn't want to live either. Again, I want to elaborate more on the importance of this statement later this week. But just know that that paradox is true for almost everyone struggling with an eating disorder, in one way or another. Luckily, my body kept fighting for me while my mind was dying. I am amazed to this day that my heart didn't stop, that my brain kept working at such a high level, that I somehow found the energy to exercise and do homework and interact with the world. Of course, I know now that I was probably in at least a slightly manic state at that time, which was pushing me to do so many things while getting only about 5 hours of sleep per night. And not eating very much. 

I remember while I was in treatment explaining to my favorite counselor, Gary, what I felt like that summer of relapse: I knew I was stuck, I knew I needed help, I knew I could die. But I also knew I couldn't pull myself out on my own. And that thought was absolutely terrifying. Not being able to save myself without help was terrifying. Something inside of me, something I had become such good friends with, was slowly killing me. I didn't want ti. But I did. But I didn't....But, there it was. Always. 

Luckily, I found my way out of that dark place. But it certainly was not alone. Ultimately, I did have to save myself, I had to make the choice to step into the light. But I didn't have to handle the world alone. And, more importantly, I didn't need my eating disorder to handle the world. I cast her off to the side and came out of the darkness.

Looking back and reading this post gives me hope still today. Hope for everyone stuck in the depths of an eating disorder. Because I really have come so far since then. And everyone can come to this place. With love, hope, faith, and a lot of perseverance and hard work, we all can. Together. Together we cross the bridge from the dark to the light.

Anyway. I hope this post as well can give you insight into what it feels like to be stuck in an eating disorder. Hopefully tomorrow I can write an actual new post, and not just reuse old ones? ;)

I love all of you! Stay strong!

If you think you or a loved ones may be struggling with an eating disorder, please get help. NEDA offers many resources for treatment and support. Please use them. It is oh so important to get help early and get the right help. It can make all the difference.

http://nedaw.myneda.org/helpline

7 August 2010: Willingness to Change
Yesterday I had an appointment with my doctor. For the first time in a very long time, it didn't make me want to cry or yell or run away. She was actually nice for the first time I can really remember. I don't mean to say she screams at me, but there's that tone of voice, you know, where you know they're disappointed and probably a little angry and it FEELS like they're only yelling at you and don't understand. But yesterday was...okay. The first okay appointment I've had there since my relapse in April. 

 She was talking to me about how I have the power over my own life. A few people have said this before, but for some reason yesterday I finally listened. It was like *I* woke up for once, and ed wasn't there telling me not to listen, or that I don't have power without him. I also feel like my parents try to control so much that I completely lose the idea that I might have any power whatsoever.

But in the end, I know my recovery and my life are dependent upon my willingness to change.

I remember when I was inpatient at Denver Children's in January 2009, one of the scales that our therapists rated us on was our willingness to change. I don't remember all of it right now, but I know the first one was that we didn't even recognize a problem and I believe the last was "Action," as in we were taking action to change. I honestly cannot remember the ones in between right now. But I know I'm past the first level, yet still not close to that highest level.

In the rare moments when ed isn't clouding my mind, I know I'm not happy. I've lost so much, given ed so much, and the only thing he's given me back is a fake sense of control over my life. This isn't the life I want, but it's the one I'm comfortable in. Plus I still have this intense fear of gaining weight. I don't want to lose anymore--trust me, I don't. I panic when the doctor says I've lost weight. I also panic when she says I've gained, but they're a different sort of panic, if that makes sense. I wish I could just stay right where I am, but I know that's not possible.

What I'm really struggling with right now is fear. As a person with severe anxiety, fear drives my life a lot of the time. But I'm wondering when the fear of gaining weight will finally be overshadowed by my desire to live life. My senior year of high school starts in just 9 days. And dang it, I want to be able to enjoy my senior year without all of THIS stupid stuff hanging over me like an awful storm cloud. I want to be able to finally admit to someone why I relapsed. Because I know the answer, but I don't like talking about it. All it does is make me cry, and I can barely even form the words to say it.

I think it's a huge step for me, though, that I'm realizing all of this. I'm finally starting to see my truth through the lies that ed puts in my head. I want to change, but I don't feel like I'm strong enough to let go. I wish I could look fear in the face and just tell him, "Hey, you know what? I don't care. It's my life." I'm not quite there yet, but I truly hope I can be.

I'm sick of this. I'm sick of not really living. I'm sick of hurting my family and hiding away from my friends. I'm tired of this existence (which is really all it is). Laurie Halse Anderson's book Wintergirls has a very powerful quote: "I am angry that I starved my brain and that I sat shivering in my bed at night instead of dancing or reading poetry or eating ice cream or kissing a boy..." That quote pretty much sums up my feelings about my life right now. I want to just live and be happy and have the power over my own life, rather than giving up that power to something else and hurting myself in the process.

This is a very long blog post. But I really needed to write out all of these thoughts, so that I can remember them on my tough days, which unfortunately still far outnumber my good days.

I have a willingness to change, but the fear still overshadows that willingness. I only hope that someday I can realize my strength and my beauty and use that to overcome the fear.

I love all of you. All of you are such an inspiration to me, and you keep me going. You keep me fighting. I haven't given up the fight yet, and that has to mean something. I'm not sure what, but I know I'm not going to stop fighting, even with the pain and tears. I want to believe, and someday I will.

National Eating Disorders Awareness Week 2013 Day 1

In honor of this first day of NEDAWeek 2013, I would like to share a part of my story with the world. Unfortunately, as I am working all day today and have a lot of homework to do in addition to that, this post is not going to be a new one. That is, I'm not going to post new insights I've had over the last 2 years I've been recovered. Rather, I am choosing to share with you two letters I wrote as part of a therapeutic exercise while I was in treatment at Colorado Children's Hospital in November 2010. The exercise was to write 2 letters to your eating disorder: one telling your eating disorder what it has given you and one telling it something you want it to know. 

These letters marked an important point in my treatment that second time around, as it finally pushed me to realize how much I lost to my eating disorder and how much I would continue to lose if I didn't fight for recovery. At the time, I was still terrified and not sure I wanted to recover. I was sad, confused, and felt utterly powerless. Even after 2 months of intense and incredibly helpful treatment. 

We read these letters aloud to small groups, and the comments said by my friends touched my heart. They told me my story was important. They told me they saw how strong I was. They told me how much I had to live for, and how much I had to fight for. My eyes were finally beginning to open to a new idea and new possibilities. I still had a long way to go after writing these letters, but I believe I am strongly on my way to the finish line now. I've been in recovery for about 2 years now, and I am strong. I won't say I'm happy all the time, or that I don't still struggle with anxiety, self-criticism, sadness, loneliness, or body image. I absolutely still do. But I know how to define myself now. It isn't by the number on the scale or the size of my thighs. It's by how happy I am, how much love I give and receive  how much I am learning and growing each day. I measure myself with smiles and love and strength and hope. Not numbers. Not anymore.

Anyway. I think these letters are extremely important and relevant. Not because they themselves offer hope or insight or encouragement for recovery. Rather, they are important because I think they truly do explain, the best words can, the mind and soul of a person desperately struggling in the chaotic black hole of an eating disorder. I was a small and scared soul, trapped in a bone cage, my heart miraculously still beating, my mind slowing, my soul dying. And I think these letters truly do show how sad I was. How lonely I was. They show that an eating disorder doesn't bring you what you want/what you think it will. They breed isolation  loneliness, fear, sadness, and, ultimately, death. 

Along that line, it is extremely important for those who know someone struggling with an eating disorder who want to help to offer it slowly, gently. Reach out your hand. Push the small things first. Don't try to open up or talk about everything at once. Understand how sad and lonely and isolated your loved one feels. Understand they don't believe in much of anything anymore. Understand they may not want to live, though they don't necessarily want to die (I'll elaborate more on this point later this week). Be gentle. Offer smiles, simple words, light touches. And be willing to listen when your loved one is finally ready to talk.

The motto this year is that everyone knows someone with an eating disorder. That couldn't be more true. Eating disorders aren't always obvious, in fact, they often aren't. I'm not sure if most of my peers at school could recognize that second time how much I was hurting inside. I definitely don't think a casual person on the street would have believed that. This is often the case. But everyone knows someone. Everyone knows someone who needs love and support and kindness and gentle pushes forward. Eating disorders are terrifying, but together, with raised awareness and support systems, we can all overcome this disease.

Now, for the letters....

Dear Ana,

You have given me so many things. You stuck by me for 3 years, always there for me. To offer something to fall back on. To offer a place to hide. To offer confidence and strength and power.

               

On the outside, you made me look so strong, so steady. I was perfect; there was nothing I could do wrong. Except to you, I could—and did doeverything wrong. No one knew that little secret, though. The outside looked so solid, while on the inside, I was falling completely apart.

              

You made me feel confident in front of other people. I was good, strong, had willpower. I didn’t have to eat to stand tall in front of the world. I could face the day just with the energy of your power and words and lies. And if things got a little rough, I could just go exercise in my room and come out more confident than before. Where’s the truth in that, though? That confidence wasn’t real; it lasted only temporarily. Then you’d send me back to do more. On the inside, I never felt confident. But to you, only the outside mattered. Who cared how I really felt?

               

Most of all, you gave me a place that was safe. You gave me a perfectly simple method to numb my anxiety, my grief, my loss: just deprive your brain of the life it needs. It was so easy. I didn’t feel grief or loss when I listened to you. Who needs those messy emotions anyway? You were the one steady thing I had in my life, to offer balance and focus. I never felt alone with you. But that meant I never had to connect with myself. At the time, that felt so good. I didn’t have to hurt. Except I did. All the time.

               

You became my box into which I stuffed all my emotions. That felt so freeing at times. I had no emotions overwhelming me, so I could focus on other things. Except, not really. All I could focus on was you. Which was good—steadying, balancing, easy, preferable—until I lost so much.

               

I still know everything you’ve given me. Some days, I want those things so much that it’s hard to give you up. But, slowly, I’m starting to question the truth of what you offer. And I’m starting to wonder if it’s worth it. If everything you give is worth the enormous losses that subsequently transpire.

               

I’m not going to lie, some days it still feels worth it. But then there are the days I can recognize the power and choices and freedom out there. And finally recognize my values. And balance my fears with my desires. It’s not every day, it’s barely even most days, but I’m getting there.

               

Because the one thing I want is the chance to be myself. And that’s the one thing you’ve NEVER been able to give me.

Dear Ana,

I would like you to know how tired I am of having your voice  constantly in my head. I can’t remember when you became my number one value, but I want you to know I’m starting to recognize everything else I value. Everything I value above and before you. That you slowly but surely took away from me, in a way that I didn’t notice until it was already lost.

               

You took away my opportunity to make friends, because you were always there preventing me from doing so. You took away my family, disconnecting me from everything that once mattered so much to me. I could never focus on what once mattered, because you were there, demanding my attention like a clingy four-year-old.

                

You took away my opportunity to have fun. I loved running. I loved hiking. I loved feeling the power of my body in motion. But you made it such a chore. You made life feel like such a chore. Why couldn’t I run just to laugh with a friend? Why did I have to stay home doing ten more crunches instead of going to that party? Why was it so useless just to have fun? When did I stop having the right to choose how I lived every day? You took that away from me. And let me tell you, it’s not a fun way to live.

               

Most of all, you took away my right to just be myself. I couldn’t be crazy and run for fun—I had to always have a purpose. I couldn’t focus on the schoolwork my mind once treasured so much—why aren’t you exercising instead, you’d ask. I couldn’t be the confident, powerful, strong, and shining young woman I had—have—every right to be. You took my power. You took my light. You took my heart. You took my soul. Nothing was good enough for you.

               

I couldn’t even honor the life and light of Nick with you. It wasn’t good enough. I didn’t deserve to be sad. What’s the use being said when you could do something and chase the pain away?

               

But I want you to know how much I was always in pain. You took away everything I valued. I lost everything, including myself. I don’t think you can ever know how much that hurt, because you don’t feel. You don’t care about me. So why, why did I become so close friends with someone who would only be happy once I was dead. Only then would there be nothing left to improve.

               

Sometimes, Ana, I really loved you. Because I followed you into your delusional sunset, where everything seemed perfect and easy. But the hurt and loss never fully went away.

               

I needed you. I really did. Sometimes, I still think I do. But I want you to know some days I don’t think I do anymore. Have you any idea what power there is in that? I bet you’re scared. You’re not giving up without a fight.

               

But guess what? Neither am I.

               

I’m scared, but I’m fighting. I don’t always believe it, but I deserve more. Soon, I hope, that truth can replace your lies. Because the truth is so much more beautiful. I want you to know that. Even on the days I don’t. It’s out there, and it’s fighting you.

               

You’re not invincible, but you’re strong. But I can be too. And when I learn to live in that strength, I hope my values, my power, MYSELF can overcome you.