Loving your body is not about being in love with your body; loving your body is about appreciating what your body can do for you, respecting what your body needs, and accepting that it changes.Â
This is what I tell myself when my eating disorder voice screams and pleas, when my urge to use behaviours grows unbearable, when the world feels like it’s coming down around me. The reason words are just as powerful as actions is because they draw out the unstable equations that result in action, or lack thereof. I was stuck in my head throughout most of my active eating disorder, as I believe we all are. I knew that my eating disorder developed as a coping mechanisms for the lack of control I felt in my life--no one had to tell me that--but I didn’t understand how the underlying beliefs I held influenced that. While I could give you the ugly details in my recovery story, I would rather tell you about the beautiful parts.
Though the process of recovery cannot be glorified, there are beautiful moments. I spent two months in a partial-hospitalization program (PHP). This is where I learned the first major lesson in my recovery: I am not alone. My best friend at home continued to treat me as a normal person, taking me to Dutch Brothers and walking around the neighborhood where we ranted about our parents, our peers, our homework. In treatment, I met who would my soul sister--a friend who would get matching impulse tattoos with me after watching the live action Lion King movie in theatres. Both of these people walked through every difficult step with me. My best friend ran to my house when I was having a panic attack and was alone at home. My soul sister and I sat on the bathroom floor resisting eating disorder behaviour urges. I walk through heaven and hell with these girls, and I am NOT alone.
The second most important lesson I learned came from outpatient treatment. Between the epiphany and PHP, my father disowned me because of a miscommunication turned horribly wrong. When that went down I lost communication with not only my father, but two sisters on that side. I had to draw a line after years of manipulation and emotional negligence. That left me feeling guilty and angry, frustrated, and caught in all the negativity in the situation. What my late therapist proposed was to feel pride. Instead of making myself smaller, I stuck up for myself. That it resulted in so much pain was unfortunate, but it was the right decision for me at the time. She tells me that I should be proud of that, and I am. I am allowed to draw lines and stick up for myself.
My story has so much pain, as anyone who struggles with an eating disorder does, but what’s most important is that it’s given me the opportunity to grow. I need to eat because my physical life literally depends on it, but also because my social life and mental health do too. Without the fuel to function, I would still let people walk on me, and I would still feel so alone. Me eating is about respecting this.
@humans_of_ed_recovery