Willfulness vs. Willingness

Lately I've been doing a lot of thinking about willingness and willfulness, probably something to do with the fact that it seems like every time I have a conversation about my ED, it comes back to those two words. In DBT, there is a lot of talk about willingness vs. willfulness. Marsha Linehan describes willingness and willfulness like this: 

Willfulness is... 

Sitting on your hands when action is needed, refusing to make changes that are needed. 

Giving up. 

The opposite of "doing what works," being effective.

Trying to fix every situation. 

Refusing to tolerate the moment. 

Willingness is...

Doing just what is needed in each situation, in an unpretentious way. It is focusing on effectiveness. 

Listening very carefully to your wise mind, acting from your inner self. 

Allowing into awareness your connection to the universe--to the earth, to the floor you are standing on, to the chair you are sitting on, to the person you are talking to. 

In skills group, we've talked about how willfulness tends to create more black and white thinking and, willfulness usually ends up hurting you in the long run. We also discussed how you have to decide whether you want to work on being willing, but your motivation has to come from yourself. 

I  don't feel like being willing at all right now. I don't feel like being effective, listening to my wise mind, acting from my inner self, or allowing into awareness my connection to the universe. I feel like sitting on my hands and not making changes. I feel like giving up. I don't feel like tolerating the moment. I don't feel like doing what works. 

I feel really willful. 

I've been working with my therapist a lot about how to be more willing, and the last time I saw her, we talked about how even though I am doing things as if I was willing to do them, but I'm not feeling willing at all. And she said that willingness does not equal feeling willing, but that willingness means doing the next right thing, even if I don't feel like it and I hate it. Willingness is a behavior, not an emotion! 

I don't have to feel the least bit willing to be engaging in willingness. I just need to be doing the next right thing in that moment. Which means eating my next meal or my next snack. It means taking my meds every day. It means getting up, taking a shower, and leaving my house every day. It means doing all of these things, even when I'm having a bad depressive day, even when I'm overwhelmed with anxiety, even when I'm having a bad body image day. 

And maybe, just maybe, doing these things will seem less robotic and feelingless. Maybe one day, I will actually feel willing, instead of just behaving willingly. Maybe one day things will get better.

But for now, I guess I'm just stuck going through the motions. As the saying goes, "You don't have to want to... Just be WILLING." 

Where Nature Meets Nurture

Today at church was Camp Sunday. Unquestionably, it has always been one of my favorite days of the year, especially since I started volunteering and working at camp four years ago. Today, I stood up in front of my church family and talked about how much camp has changed my life. I said something similar to this:

When Kim asked me to talk about my camp experience, I jumped at the opportunity to share something that I am so passionate about, but then, I realized that summing up something that has radically changed who I am in 3 to 5 minutes is basically impossible. I spent only one week as a camper when I was 12, and I honestly don’t remember much of it. I returned to camp at 16 as a counselor in training, at 17 as a volunteer, and at 18 and 19 as part of summer staff, which caused me to experience, in some capacity, almost every camp Outdoor Ministries has to offer. 

Working at camp forced me to do a lot of things that felt uncomfortable and scary to me at the time, like leading songs and talking in front of large groups, thinking on my feet and rearranging an entire day for forty-some kids at the drop of a hat—which is not easy, resolving conflicts between campers and between staff, functioning most days on little to no sleep, meeting and working with a new team of volunteer directors and counselors every week, having to be upbeat, positive, and enthusiastic 100% of the time. I was out of my comfort zone the first day of staff training when I walked into a room of thirty or forty people that I would be living and working with for the next seven weeks, all of whom seemed more adult and much more capable than I was.  

But the thing about being pushed to do something you’re uncomfortable with is that it forces you to grow as a person, learn who you are, and really develop your sense of self. The most important lessons I learned in life, I learned at camp. Every child I worked with had something to teach me. From my kids, I learned to balance a spoon on my nose, to try new things, to be patient, to embrace my own weirdness, to be flexible, to be brave, to laugh at myself, to face my fears, to love... I could talk forever. 

My favorite weeks were the ones where I got to work with middle schoolers. Both summers I worked on staff, I was placed at fishing camp, and the kids I got to work with were all so unique and at camp, they’re free to just embrace who they are. Last year, there was one cabin of girls, all of whom had been my campers before at various camps. They bonded almost instantaneously. We had a lot of laughs that week, but we also had some serious conversations. Every night after the lights went out, my girls felt free to be vulnerable to me and to each other and we talked about their fears and insecurities about growing up, and I shared some of my experiences with them about friendships and life, but I mostly listened as they encouraged one another. 

I chose to work at camp because I wanted to make a difference in the lives of kids. I have no idea what sort of impact that I had on any of them or even if I made one. But what I do know is that these kids—my kids—all changed my life in some way or another. We had a running joke on staff that we didn’t get paid enough for what we had to put up with—the late nights, the storms both literal and metaphorical, the power and water outages, the lack of sleep and sanity—but honestly, I would go back and do it all over again for free because the experiences I had and the lessons I learned are priceless. 

This summer, I will unfortunately not be able to attend camp in any capacity because I have to take summer classes, and this is heartbreaking for me. But I want to encourage all of you to go to camp this summer—either as campers or as volunteers, which camp really needs right now, because it truly is a life changing experience and something you will never forget. If anyone has questions about the different camps offered or about volunteering as a counselor, please come talk to me! I’d love to give you more information!

You would think that something so significant to me would be easy to talk about, but it really isn't. Not when you have anorexia and so much of your recovery journey is tangled up in your time as a counselor (This post only briefly touches on how the two are intertwined).

Camp was the first place that I'd ever "come out" about my eating disorder, my depression, and my self-harm. I was 16 and a counselor-in-training, and something about the stress of the week or just the atmosphere of camp, I felt comfortable being vulnerable and breaking down, first to one of the counselors and then to one of the directors.

It was the director who really got me started on the path to recovery. She called my mom the week after and told her, when I was in St. Louis on a mission trip with my youth group. Enter my mom, enter therapy, enter my life changing. E continued to support me in the coming years--encouraging my recovery, letting me vent my frustrations, and just being a really good friend. I am forever grateful for this relationship.

One year later, I was back at the same camp. I remember one of my campers making a comment at dinner, something like, "The reason you're fat is because you eat too much." That hit exactly where I was vulnerable because I was only going through the motions of recovery. I handled her comment appropriately, but after, completely had a meltdown to another one of the counselors.

The next year, I was working on summer staff. When I was figuring out what I was going to say at church today, I looked back to a paper I had written about my first summer on staff for a class last year. It says this of my fifth week:

On Friday night, I received a phone call from a high school friend of mine.  She was in tears, and I couldn’t really make out what words she was saying.  But eventually I learned that her boyfriend had dumped her and that her battle with anorexia had landed her in the hospital.  Her heart was skipping beats like crazy; she was dying.  I hung up with her and I cried.  

I cried because she was so sick.  I cried because she was both literally and figuratively heartbroken.  I cried because I was two hours away and couldn’t be there with her.  But mostly, I cried because that could have been me.  

What you don’t know is that in the months leading up to my summer at camp, I had been in treatment for anorexia.  It had gotten to the point that my parents were going to pull me out of my senior year of high school and send me to residential treatment.  I wasn’t supposed to be working at camp that summer. 

But I was; pretty successfully, I might add.  So while I was busy taking care of my kids and my camp family, they were also taking care of me in ways they couldn’t even imagine.  They were helping me heal, helping me become confident in myself, and helping me prove that I could go to college in the fall.  Camp had gotten me through treatment and ready for the real world.  

I spent almost my entire twenty-four hours off with my friend at the hospital. I went home only to shower, hand my dirty laundry off to my mom, and sleep.  I arrived late for the start of camp on Sunday afternoon and promptly fell apart.  However, my boss understood and let me talk everything out with her before my kids came that afternoon.

Camp was the immediate reason that I cared about even trying to get better at the end of my senior year of high school.  A couple weeks before it was supposed to start, my doctor told me that I wasn't allowed to go work at camp for the whole summer. I was furious and this fury pushed me to see her concerns and agree to follow what she was instructing, in order for me to work at camp.

That first summer on staff completely changed my life. It pushed me to my limits, but I was also held in by some wonderful, wiser, and loving people that I am so privileged to now call friends. At the time, two of these women were my bosses and were really supportive and encouraging of my recovery and my health, even in the chaos that is summer camp. I developed relationships with campers, counselors, and directors who loved and accepted me just as I was and who gave me the strength to keep fighting, the courage to be myself, and a reason to keep going, even after the summer ended. That week after I spent my time off with my friend in the hospital, I called E and told her how grateful she was that she had called my mom those two years before. I was determined to stay in recovery.

The next year, during my camp interview, my boss asked me indirectly about my ED and how things were going. She felt comfortable enough with my progress to hire me back for a second summer, but she was--and still is--there for me when times get rough.

That second summer was hard. I went through lifeguard certification, which was tough because I had been avoiding exercise as it is an ED behavior for me, but I passed. I dealt with so many insecurities and so much drama from other people on staff. But I also met some amazing kids... Kids who were afraid to be who they were because they were worried about what others thought. Kids who were bullied at school. Kids with appearance insecurities. Kids who thought that no one would ever love them for who they were. And some of these moments, I could share bits of my story with them.

I'm not going back to camp this summer, as I said at church this morning. I have to take summer classes, and honestly, I don't think it would be healthy for me to go back to camp this summer because recovery takes time and I can't force it into a timeline. Lately, I've been feeling so disconnected from this young woman who worked two summers on camp staff--this young woman so determined to recover and be healthy and a good role model for these precious kids. Even talking this morning in church seemed so inauthentic because I couldn't say the real impact that camp had on my life.

As much as camp allowed me to enter into periods of recovery, it also left me vulnerable to relapses later, like the one that sent me home from college this year. But camp also taught me so much. That I am strong. That I am worth fighting for. That I am loved. That I don't have to be perfect. That I don't have to change. That I don't have to be something that I'm not. That I can have questions and doubts and insecurities and still be loved. That life isn't perfect. That I can be flexible. That I'm okay just as I am. That I can make it through anything I put my mind to.

Camp allowed me to become, at least while I was there, the woman who is capable of fully recovering from her eating disorder. In the time since then, I have lost that person. But she's not gone forever. One day, she will be back at camp again.
Camp and my kids have kept me alive thus far. Today, I feel like I have a renewed purpose to fight for my life and health, like I have a renewed strength.
Camp has--and will continue to--save my life.

The Eater.

I caught up on my blog reading today. These two struck me where I'm vulnerable right now.

The Eater's Agreement By Marc David

I hereby agree, from this day forward, to fully participate in life on earth.  I agree to inhabit the appropriate vehicle for such participation - a body.  As a requisite for the sustaining of that body, and of the life that dwells therein, I agree to be an eater.  This agreement fully binds me for the duration of my stay on earth.

As an eater, I agree to hunger.  I agree to have a body that needs food.  I agree to eat food.  I recognize that as the biological need to eat is fulfilled with greater awareness and efficiency, the benefits of my well-being will increase.  I further acknowledge that ignorance of the eating process may cause undesirable consequences.

Because the essence of my participation in life is one of learning and exploration, I agree to experience uncertainty as an eater.  I recognize there are a great variety of foods to choose from, and I may not know which to eat.  I may have a choice of different nutritional approaches, and not know which to follow.  I may have an assortment of habits, and not know how to manage them.  I recognize that my relationship to food is a learning process, and I will inevitably make mistakes.  Therefore, as an eater, I agree to accept my humanness and learn as I go along.

I acknowledge that as the body changes from infancy to old age, so will the eating process change.  I recognize that my body may call for different foods as the days, seasons, and years progress.  My dietary needs will also shift in accord with changes in my life-style and environment.  I understand that there is no one perfect diet.

As an eater, I accept pain.  I recognize that I may suffer pain when the body is disturbed by my choice of food or eating habits.  I may also experience pain when emotional and spiritual hungers are confused with physical hunger.  I further understand that eating to cure a pain cannot be remedied by eating may bring even more pain.  I further agree to accept a body that is imperfect and vulnerable, that naturally decays with the passage of time.  I recognize there will be moments when I am incapable of caring for it myself.  I agree, then, that to live in a body is to need the help of others.  I also agree to be vulnerable as an eater.  I acknowledge that I will be helpless as an infant and will need to be fed.  I may be equally helpless when I am old and unwell.  I further recognize that even when I am fully capable, I may still need the warmth and care of someone who can feed me.  Therefore, as an eater, I agree to be nourished by others.

If I have a woman's body, I acknowledge that I have a special relationship to eating and nourishment.  I recognize that as a giver of life, I am the nourisher of life as well.  Whether through my cooking or the milk of my body, I acknowledge that the union of food and love is a quality that marks my womanhood and has a profound effect on human-kind.

As an eater, I acknowledge the domain of the sacred.  I recognize that the act of eating may be ritualized and inspired.  It may be given symbolic meanings that are religious or spiritual in nature.  It may even be joyous.

I further agree that eating is an activity that joins me with all humanity.  I recognize that to be an eater is to be accountable for the care of the earth and its resources.  I acknowledge that despite our differences, we are all ultimately nourished by the same source.  As such, I agree to share.

I recognize that at its deepest level, eating is an affirmation of life.  Each time I eat, I agree somewhere inside to continue life on earth.  I acknowledge that this choice to eat is a fundamental act of love and nourishment, a true celebration of my existence.  As a human being on earth, I agree to be an eater.  I choose life again and again...

Nourishing the Soul posted this response from a reader: 

"This eater feels shaken. Feels jolted. I can intellectualize my body’s need for food — its inability to go on without nourishment. But I don’t like to admit it. I didn’t want to be reminded of my humanness — my weakness and fragility. So I manipulated it.

I used food to prove that my life was in my hands. I could choose to sustain it or to starve it away. And so I chose to waste. Waste my resources, my body, my relationship. Deprive them all as I watched them dwindle away. I learned that starvation takes away all ability — steals my capacity to move, think, sleep, love.

I can’t starve my body without starving my soul. I starve and I quickly whittle away my logic, my passion, my desire. I believe that I am mighty. That I don’t need the things that all others need — I am the exception in a scenario of no exceptions. I believe that I am not an eater, a feeler, a bearer of life, until I don’t want to be the exception anymore. I want to need food to live, but I don’t want to live.

And then I am re-introduced to life, and curiosity, and pain. To humanity, to weakness, and to strength. To the overwhelming world of eaters. My brain still battles my body. Once a month I am reminded that I somehow came to sustain my life again, and I feel simultaneous joy and suffering. Relief and fear. My heart beats, my hair grows, my body offers to house another. I am alive because I am an eater — or I am an eater because I am alive.

Perhaps the choice is not about eating or not eating, but about living or not living. Embracing life or rejecting it. itching in a basement, all sources of light blocked out by opaque bags installed, but failing to keep the bugs off of my skin, or stepping out into a lawn of weeds and blooms to feel the sun warm my skin.

I eat for that warmth. I eat to experience the sunrise reflected on the Rocky Mountains outside my window. I eat to stand at the tops of those mountains, and to rest peacefully in my bed afterwards. I eat to embrace my mother and connect with my father. I eat to laugh with my brother. I eat to accept I am imperfect, and to acknowledge the beauty of that. I eat to enjoy a moment. I eat to solve a puzzle, read a book, write a poem. I eat to be curious, eat to learn, eat to inquire and desire. I eat to believe, I eat to breathe. I eat to live.

I eat because I am an eater.

I eat because I have a soul, and I have come to learn that I can’t be a soul without a body.

I eat because I want to learn to celebrate my existence. I eat because it doesn’t matter who I was yesterday, and I want to discover who I will be tomorrow. I eat because some days, some moments I hunger for life. I eat to give the hunger space to grown until it’s satisfied. Reappear and be satiated once again.

And again. And again. 

I eat to say that I am okay with this hunger. 

I eat to say I am okay."

Why Eating Food is Important

1. Food = fuel. 

2. Starvation decreases brain volume along with grey and white matter responsible for multiple cognitive functions. 

3. I like being warm. 

4. Not eating makes my depression worse. 

6. I want to be a good role model for my cousins, younger friends, and camp girls.

7. Cellular respiration. 

8. To be able to do fun winter things like ice skate and ski with friends.

9. So that I can have kids one day. 

10. So my digestive system will be happy with me always. 

11. To decrease anxiety. 

12.  So I can enjoy cooking yummy things. 

13. Breakfast/lunch/dinner dates with friends. 

14. Having energy! 

15. Being social. 

16. People will worry less about me. 

17. My immune system will function better. 

18. I'll know what actually being sick feels like--not just what being ED sick feels like. 

19. Julie will continue to love me and work with me. 

20. I will get my life back. 

21. To go back to Gettysburg. 

22. So I can make a difference in the world. 

23. Because I want to learn all the psychology. 

24. I need a fully functional brain to learn. 

25. So I can give blood and save lives. 

26. So I get get my blood drawn for a simple TB test. 

27. TRAVELING. 

28. Exploring the food of different cultures. 

29. Have energy to play with kids. 

30. I will be less tired. 

31. Just overall feeling better. 

32. Food is medicine. 

33. For health. 

34. So I can function. 

35. To not be sick anymore. 

36. Decreased mood swings. 

37. Food is delicious. 

38. I want to live a long life. 

39. Because my heart likes food. 

40. I like it when my organs are all functioning properly. 

41. So my muscles will stop aching because my body is eating them. 

42. To keep my metabolism stable. 

43. I like being alive. 

44. Road trips will be more enjoyable. 

45. My body needs nutrients. 

46. To be nice to myself. 

47. To be able to treat EDs one day and not feel like a hypocrite. 

48. Movie theater popcorn! 

49. Everyone needs to eat. 

50. Because the only way out is through.

51. I am stronger than this. 

52. To get my PhD.

53. Because my body won't run on X calories just because I decided it would. 

54. There's more to life than food. 

55. Because fuck diet culture.

56. The definition of beautiful does not involve the word skinny. 

57. Perfection isn't attainable. 

58. Sometimes you have to do what you don't like in order to get to where you want to be. 

59. So I can rewire my brain. 

60. Because my future daughter(s) will have a healthy relationship with food. 

61. Life is too short to be at war with myself. 

62. So I can go to grad school somewhere warm and not close to home. 

63. To reach my potential. 

64. Because there's more to life than scales and calories. 

65. I deserve it. 

66. So I can fill my life with busyness again. 

67. Because I want recovery. 

68. Scales only give a numerical representation of my relationship with gravity, not my worth. 

69. People don't actually care what you look like or what/how you eat. 

70. Tomorrow is a fresh start. 

71. I like remembering things. 

72. So I can date a boy and maybe marry him one day. 

73. Because not eating is exhausting and sucks. 

74. Birthday cake! 

75. So I can go out for my 21st birthday and drink without worrying about the calories in alcohol. 

76. I hate doing behavior chains.

77. Fewer mental breakdowns. 

78. So I can be comfortable in my own skin. 

79. Tacos. 

80. I'll actually look forward to seeing Dr. G and Julie because they're amazing people. 

81. Long hikes in the woods. 

82. So that taking most of this year off will not have been for nothing. 

83. Because I want to be one of 30-40% that fully recover. 

84. To not feel guilt or shame over what, when, and how much I am eating. 

85. Chocolate. 

86. There is no good excuse for not eating. 

87. I don't want to end up in the hospital. 

88. Long bike rides. 

89. To be happy. 

90. Because people have faith in me. 

91. So I can go running for enjoyment, not in order to burn calories or lose weight.

92. To heal relationships ruined by my eating disorder.  

93. Thanksgiving and other holidays. 

94. Food is nothing to be afraid of. 

95. So that I can win this war. 

96. To be a better therapist. 

97. I want to get better. 

98. My body needs nutrients to function. 

99. So I can be fully present in every situation. 

100. Because I am not my eating disorder.

In 13 Days...

I hope you're happy.

I hope you're happy now.

I hope you're happy how you've hurt your cause forever; I hope you think you're clever.

I hope you're happy.

I hope you're happy, too.

I hope you're proud how you would grovel in submission to feed your own ambition.

So though I can't imagine how, I hope you're happy right now...

SUMMARY: In the past 13 days... 

1. I took a trip in a snowstorm to Gettysburg, with an overnight stop in Chambersburg, to see friends.
2. I became okay with taking extra time to finish school and not graduating in four years. 
3. I found out that I WILL be graduating in 2016!!! Even though I had to take almost a full year off of school.
4. I chased an adorable two-year-old around the science center.
5. Life chats!
6. Two of my friends were hospitalized and released a few days later for mental health related reasons. 
7. My roommate kicked serious ass at her senior recital. 
8. I stole her picture off a bulletin board in the CUB.
9. Katie, the nurse practitioner who works with my ED doctor, resigned. 
10. I watched Tangled! 
11. I visited my brother and a friend at CMU on my drive home. 
12. I survived driving in another snowstorm!
13. I got a lottery number for housing! 
14. I was offered a volunteer position at Summa hospital in the psych ward. 
15. I spent twenty minutes looking for my car...
16. We've solidified our housing arrangements for next year more. 
17. I did my taxes! 

Some other stuff happened in there, too, mostly having to do with going to see my therapist and dietitian and doctor and going to groups. And exploring Beachwood--and by Beachwood I mean, how long I can sit in Panera before they kick me out. So all sorts of good and exciting things. 

But there's this thing called impression management, which is defined in social psychology and similarly in sociology as "goal-directed conscious or unconscious processes in which people attempt to influence the perceptions of other people about a person, object or event by regulating and controlling information in social interaction" (thank you, Wikipedia). Naturally, because I am human, I do that. 

I read somewhere that everyone wants to hear that you're fine, you're doing better, taking it one day at a time, making progress. And honestly, I would be lying if I didn't say that's exactly how I feel sometimes. Not just when talking with other people about their recoveries and lives, but when talking about my own. It's comfortable and easy for me to say that I'm doing better, that treatment has made a world of difference for me. 

All of that is true. 

I am doing better. Treatment has made a difference. 

But I would be lying if I said that every day is a good day. That's false. Some days just flat out suck. And sometimes, I have days--weeks--where things just go to hell in a hand-basket and behaviors your happen and I just don't care. There are days where wanting to get better and wanting to graduate and get my PhD and travel and have kids and change the world mean nothing against my eating disorder. Sometimes things, no matter how good they look to the naked eye, are actually pretty crappy. 

In case you were wondering what really happened in the past 13 days... 

I slipped. 

My ED took over. 

I had behaviors. 

I disappointed people. 

My dietitian told me that I "have not decided to be kind to myself" and I had a mental breakdown. 

I completely blamed myself for my friends' hospitalizations. 

I cried. A lot. 

I had more behaviors. 

I got so caught up in taking care of other people that I forgot to take care of myself.

I made excuses for behaviors. 

I ignored the fact that I am sick and in treatment and that means that I cannot live normally. 

I had more behaviors. 

I disappointed the same people again. 

Recovery isn't easy. It looks easy and sounds easy to those who haven't been through it or something similar. But it's not. Sometimes it just sucks. And sometimes its impossible to be okay. That's where I'm at--the sucky and not being okay part. The part where I have to make a choice between a difficult, hard, challenging, hellish path that brings life and a much easier one that eventually brings death... A choice that seems so simple. 

The hard path, that brings life. 

But right now, I'm not so sure that I'm up for the challenge...

"Just Might (Make Me Believe)" by Sugarland

I got miles of trouble spreadin' far and wide

Bills on the table gettin' higher and higher

They just keep on comin', there ain't no end in sight

I'm just holding on tight...

I've got someone who loves me more then words can say

And I'm thankful for that each and every day

And if I count all my blessings, I get a smile on my face

Still it's hard to find faith

But if you can look in my eyes

And tell me we'll be alright

If you promise never to leave 

You just might make me believe

Its just day to day tryin' to make ends meet

What id give for an address out on easy street

I need a deep margarita to help me unwind

Leave my troubles behind...

But if you can look in my eyes

And tell me we'll be alright

If you promise never to leave 

You just might make me believe

I used to believe in us

When times got tough

But lately I'm afraid that even love is not enough

But if you can can look in my eyes

And tell me we'll be alright

If you promise never to leave you just might make me

Oh, you just might make me

You just might make me believe

[Dis]CHARGE!

I am now officially done with IOP. My vitals are pretty stable. I'm almost back in my weight range. I'm not using behaviors. I'm following my meal plan. Behaviorally and medically, things look good and are getting close to "normal." But emotionally and psychologically, I'm not there yet. And according to my treatment team, this means that I am ready to move on to outpatient.

However, I have been having a lot of mixed feelings about it all. On one hand, I am so glad to be done and be a "free woman" again, as one of my treatment friends phrased it. But on the other hand, I'm absolutely terrified of having so much time to myself, as well as just generally being fearful of behavioral lapses and relapses (the latter has more to do with returning to school in the fall, which is still a long way off). 

Ever since I was in middle school, I have never had a lot of time to myself. My mom was always on me for over-committing myself to things, being too busy, and not having any time to relax. I was either at school, an extracurricular, doing homework, or hanging out with friends. I rarely took time out for self-care and rest. Being busy was who I was. I was my education, my extracurriculars, my friendships, my busyness. In the summers, I was my camp job. Overarching all of that was my eating disorder, my depression, my anxiety. For the past few months, I have been my treatment.

Now, I have none of that. No job, no extracurriculars, no school. My friends are all off at their own colleges, five hours away in Gettysburg, or worried about high school. And now treatment, although it is not ending completely, is becoming a less significant part of my life.

So the question that remains is, who am I, as just Sarah? Who am I without my accomplishments, my academics, my involvements? What is it that I value? What matters to me? How do I want to spend my time? How is Sarah, the person, defined?

My therapist suggested to me in our last session that I make two lists--one consisting of what I know I am and what I want for myself and my life and a second of what I know I am not and do not want for myself and my life. I haven't yet started on this task--I had a busy weekend of chaperoning an elementary lock-in at church, babysitting, and catching up on all the sleep I did not get because of those things. But I'm planning on beginning it soon.

Now that I have been discharged and have an extra 18 hours in my week, it is time to charge forward into this new Sarah-ness that is governed solely by Sarah and her dreams and aspirations, her likes and dislikes, her values and personality. 

Something that has been very motivating in getting myself to this point in recovery is wanting to feel fully alive and in touch with life--being able to fully feel every memory and moment as it occurs and to enjoy it in it's entirety. And until today, partially influenced by this blog post, I have been unsure as to how to make that happen for me. Feeling fully alive has to do with living life according to my values, my desires, my aspirations and letting go of everything that is not in line with those things and not me. It means not living for academics, but still gleaning knowledge; it means not putting my worth in how well my friends like me, but still cultivating relationships; it means not putting my identity in what I do, but still participating fully and passionately. 

It's time to discover what feeling fully alive means... 

Time to charge forward into creating who I am and who I want to be. 
Time to charge forward in the next phase of recovery.
Time to charge forward into life.
Time to live with my heart as my compass. 

"Compass" by Lady Antebellum

Alright

Yeah it's been a bumpy road

Roller coasters

High and low

Fill the tank and drive the car

Pedal fast, pedal hard

You won't have to go that far

You wanna give up 'cause it's dark

We're really not that far apart

So let your heart, sweet heart

Be your compass when you're lost

And you should follow it wherever it may go

When it's all said and done

You can walk instead of run

'Cause no matter what you'll never be alone (never be alone) oh oh oh

Never be alone oh oh oh

Forgot directions on your way

Don't close your eyes don't be afraid

We might be crazy late at night I can't wait til you arrive

Follow stars you'll be alright

You wanna give up 'cause it's dark

We're really not that far apart

So let your heart, sweet heart

Be your compass when you're lost

And you should follow it wherever it may go

When it's all said and done

You can walk instead of run

'Cause no matter what you'll never be alone (never be alone) oh oh oh

Never be alone oh oh oh

You wanna give up 'cause it's dark

We're really not that far apart

So let your heart, sweet heart

Be your compass when you're lost

And you should follow it wherever it may go

When it's all said and done

You can walk instead of run

'Cause no matter what you'll never be alone (never be alone) oh oh oh

Never be alone oh oh oh

When it's all said and done

You can walk instead of run

'Cause no matter what you'll never be alone

Taking the Semester Off

I'm getting to the time where everyone is asking me why I am not back at school. It's not winter break any longer, although it certainly is winter here. And I'm getting asked questions that I usually have no idea how to answer. Things like, "Are you going to school somewhere else?" or "What are you going to do now that you're home?" or "Why aren't you at school?" And I usually respond with the generic, I'm just taking the semester off to figure out some life stuff and I'm going back to school in the fall. It's a perfectly reasonable explanation, I think, especially after the advice that one of my professors gave me: 

"It is difficult to answer people's questions. They never mean any harm by them, yet its very awkward when you don't want to talk about it. You'll have to come up with a short, very generic answer. It is important to remember that people take time off from college for a variety of reasons... A semester off is nothing. I know other students who took off for medical leave, but some just want a break for a while to figure out their path. That is really mature (and wise) to do. So often young adults just jump on the path they think is 'correct' by their parents, friend, or society without looking at all of the options. You get the luxury of looking at your options!"

So I personally think my answer is really good. But then, some people ask me the dreaded question of all questions... 

WHY?

And it's not that I want to lie to people--I am not a liar (if I was a liar, I would probably still be at school right now)--but I don't exactly know how to read people and judge how they'll react to me telling them the truth. For example, some of the elderly people at church, what would they think? EDs weren't really a thing back then, besides, everyone knows that they all gossip and talk to each other and I don't want anything I say to get misinterpreted and rumors to be spread and whatnot. And a lot of times, people will ask and it won't be an ideal time to share that information because they'll be other people around who I don't want to overhear what I'm saying or there won't be enough time for me to explain the entire situation because you can't just throw it out there that, hey, I've had an eating disorder for almost 7 years and that's why I'm taking time off of school. It doesn't really work like that. 

Also, like my mom told me the other day--it really is none of their business. She was referring to a situation where someone who our family barely knows was asking about why I was taking time off of school. My business is my business and no one else's. 

I do, however, pride myself on being open about my ED because I want to change the conversation we have in society about EDs and the stigma that surrounds them. I am totally okay with speaking freely about my struggles and my illness, but there is a time and a place for it. I know that, and I try to do what I am most comfortable with in the moment. If that means talking about it, then by all means, I will talk about it. But if that means shrugging off the question with a generic answer, then that is exactly what I will do and if people aren't okay with that, well, that's just too freaking bad because it is none of their damn business in the first place. 

I am not selfish for putting my recovery before my education,
my family, my future, and everything else.
Putting everything else on hold to recover is not selfish.
You are not selfish for taking time out to heal.

But there are ways in which I am willing to share what's really going on--through an email, through a text, through a one-on-one conversation where there are no interruptions. Because as easy as it is for me to say I'm taking the semester off, it's a really challenging feat for me, one that I struggle every day to accept, to embrace, and to not judge. 

Most people don't get that I just might not be 100% okay with what I'm doing right now when they ask these questions. And again, they don't mean any harm by them, I'm sure. But every time that I have to look at someone and say that to them, another piece of my heart breaks. 

I sent an email to a high school teacher of mine the other day, sharing a really cool video that I thought she would find useful in her classes. She emailed me back and asked me how school and life were going for me, and I was very open with her about everything. She responded saying: 

"I hope that you can rest in the fact that it is all right to be at home right now.  My youngest also had to take time out from college to get her bearings back, and during that time I know that 'being out' was really hard for her, even though it was the right thing to do.  Life is bigger than our plans, sometimes."

I want people to think a little bit more before they ask questions and pry into people's lives, especially if they do not know them very well. I want them to think about the timing and the location of their questions, especially with something like this. Anyone who knows me well knows that I love school, especially Gettysburg, and that I hate quitting something or not finishing something, so anyone who knows me would know that me being home right now is 1) not a normal behavior for me and 2) not something that I would opt to do on my own free will. I also think people need to be aware of the degree to which it is acceptable to pry into the life of another person in a particular situation. I'm completely okay with telling everyone, in any situation, that I am taking the semester off of school. It's the questions that follow that are not always timed the best, and I'm not always comfortable saying that I don't want to talk about it in that moment. 

And again, I know that people don't mean any harm or hurt to come of their questions, and that usually they are just curious or trying to make conversation, which is fine. I just wish that people would be more careful about when and where they choose to ask things and that they would recognize that this taking a semester off thing isn't as easy as it looks for me, that it pains me to be sitting at home and not in my dorm room or in class and that I'm not just taking a break from school--I'm trying to rewire my brain. And that, my friends, is not easy or simple. 

Thoughts on Gaining: The Truth about Life after Eating Disorders (Part 1)

A few weeks ago, I finally finished reading Gaining: The Truth about Life after Eating Disorders by Aimee Liu. This is the second recovery book I've read, and coincidentally, the second book by Aimee Liu that I've read. It's taken me a while to get through. 

I first bought Gaining when I was a senior in high school. I thought, A recovery book? Yeah. I'll read it and find out all the ways that I can look like I'm better, look like I'm recovered. I'll read it so I can find all the ways to hide my disorder. Before Aimee Liu, the only ED books I've ever read were memoirs or fiction--essentially instruction manuals for how to become sick, or in my case, sicker. Don't get me wrong--I love ED memoirs. I love that young adult authors are touching on EDs, which leads to conversations and early intervention. I just worry that sometimes they are too real. Too triggering. Too much of a how-to guide.

But Gaining wasn't like that. Gaining was research, put into real people terms, mixed with personal stories (shout out to Dr. Warren, who spoke on both of those sides and whom I've had the pleasure of working with for three years). Throw in Aimee Liu's wisdom looking back on her journey, along with bits and pieces of "You are not alone. There are others out there who feel exactly like you do," and you have a recipe for a very insightful and informative book for sufferers, researchers, loved ones, or the curious. However, this isn't a book review (okay... maybe it kind of is...), so I'm not going to go on and on about the value of Aimee Liu's work.

I am, however, going to go back through the book and highlight some of the important takeaways I got from each chapter--the things I've found helpful in motivating my recovery, the things that have been shocking, the things that have bothered me, the quotes that struck me, the times when she took the words right out of my mouth, all of it. Because I think in doing this, it will help me to figure out a better picture of what my recovery looks like, I think, going forward.

In order to overcome any problem, we must first admit we have that problem. We must face it, examine it honestly, and learn how to manage it. (p. xii)

Introduction--To Gain Is Good. 

To gain is good. We gain confidence as we grow, status and health as we prosper, and--so we hope--wisdom as we age. A gain of intimacy is essential for love, of toughness for survival. By definition, gaining is a source of pleasure and progress. Why, then, do so many women (and, increasingly, men) confound the meaning of this simple, satisfying word with shame and dread? [...] The greatest fear, however, is that gaining will expose some shameful inner truth. It's not about the numbers on the scale. Deep down, we all know that. (p. xiii)

It's true. Gaining is no longer about pleasure or progress, at least when it comes to weight. I remember being 12 and my dad saying something to my aunt about how I almost weighed as much as she did and all I remember is the incredible amount of shame that I felt around gaining. I was at an age where I was supposed to gain! And I was ashamed of it. It goes to show what value we put on numbers and gains in weight in our society. Look at Special K and their slogan, "What will you gain when you lose?" They are associating gaining with loss. What does that even mean?! It's a complete oxymoron. 

And that's not even about the numbers! It's about losing. EDs are not about the numbers. They become about the numbers, but they're not about the numbers. They're about what, exactly? I have yet to figure that out. Everyone is different. But my ED did not start from being about the numbers. I wasn't the least concerned with the numbers. I was concerned with feeling better and being better. 

Yet I now wanted to believe that gaining weight was enough to make me feel normal... What did "normal" even feel like? How did "normal" think? Anorexia had so distorted my perspective that I had no idea. (p. xx)

So let's talk about this one, because it's kind of where I'm at right now. It's not enough to be back in my weight range (which in this moment, I'm not yet in--so close!). Yes, the weight and the medical stability are part of it, but without normalizing food behaviors, without figuring out thoughts and triggers and everything else, relapse is basically inevitable. But what exactly is this "normal" thing? I'm at a place where my normal has, for almost seven years, consisted of being sick, and now, I have to reinvent normal from nothing, at 19. It's something that I'm struggling with as I'm seeking what recovery looks like for me. Which Aimee Liu goes on to talk about: 

Gaining back a full, healthy life in the wake of an eating disorder is largely a process of restoring these three realms of experience [inner self, relationships, experience of culture and society] to their rightful order. The first, most important, and in many cases ongoing challenge is to look beyond the surface of the person in the mirror. As University of New Mexico psychiatrist Joel Yager told me, "Know thyself in a very profound Greek way. What is your biology? What is your calling? How are you built? Study your temperament. Be respectful of it." The second stage involves reexamining and adjusting relationships with families, lovers, and friends. "You're not going to turn yourself into someone you aren't," Yager explained, "and nobody should try to turn you into someone you're not built to be." With enough self-awareness, we can rebuild or form new relationships around trust instead of judgment. Then, aided by this genuine support, we can renegotiate our responses to our culture and society from a position of personal confidence instead of emptiness. When what we do, want, and admire is shaped by a strong sense of self that operates from the inside out, we gain true power over our lives. (p. xxviii-xxix, emphasis mine)

Chapter 1--Connecting the Dots: A Genetic Link

The facts: 

• More than 2/3 of anorexics and bulimics have a lifelong history of anxiety disorders
• Typical anorexic qualities--perfectionistic, cautious, highly regimented, disciplined, suffer from self-perceived inadequacy
• Anorexia nervosa has the strongest correlation to temperament of any psychological illness
• Bulimia nervosa has a correlation but less so 
• Even years later, recovered patients will show abnormally high rates of anxiety and obsessive thinking, especially perfectionism

Dear everyone everywhere who ever thought that EDs were choices: they are not, in fact. So let's bust that myth right now. This at least makes me feel a bit better--knowing that this isn't my fault. In another of Aimee Liu's books, she writes that genetics form the gun, and it's true. Research has proved it. 

What completely freaks me out though, is that last point. Recovered patients will show abnormally high rates of anxiety and obsessive thinking, especially perfectionism. WHAT?!

The solution is not to eliminate these traits but to learn to manage them. So in treatment we try to move patients to a new framework, to enable them to accept growth and change. (p. 22)

I think this is what my therapist meant yesterday when she told me that I needed to learn how to be okay with ambiguity--that she really meant that I need to be okay with not knowing, with not being in control, with having my same temperament and not engaging in behaviors to make me feel better when my genetic wiring makes me feel like I need to. This is gonna take some time. 

Chapter 2--Portrait of a Hunger Artist: The Face of Fear

But the turning point, while critical, is not the same as a conclusion. [...] Virtually everyone who recovers from an eating disorder experiences such a moment. It might take a comment, a look, or the scare of a medical prognosis, but suddenly the obsession that just seconds before seemed all-powerful is revealed, like the Wizard of Oz, to be nothing more than the trick of a frightened mind. Once this truth is revealed it becomes safe to say, "I'm sick of this," or simply, "Enough!" (p. 28)

I reached my turning point. About three months ago. Check. However... 

Patterns of eating, thinking, feeling, and behaving that have taken years to develop and that may stem from inborn disposition are not going to reverse in a single afternoon. I know this now from my own experience. I also know it from Caroline Knapp, who at forty-one wrote, "I'm still prone to periods of isolation, still more fearful of the world out there and more averse to pleasure and risk than I'd like to be; I still direct more energy toward controlling and minimizing appetites than toward indulging them; I am one of the least spontaneous people I know." I know it from Marya Hornbacher's observation following her long battle with bulimia: "Always, there is an odd distance between you and the people you love and the people you meet, a barrier, thin as the glass of a mirror." (p. 29) 

Now that's depressing...

People who develop EDs tend to fall into three distinct and mostly lifelong temperamental groups: 

1. Overcontrolled

• Most restricting anorexics and a minority of bulimics 
• "Feel like they have nothing inside" 
• Avoid social contact
• Tightly control appetites for food and sex
• Limit pleasures 
• Withdraw from excitement, sensation, and risk

2. Perfectionistic

• Most bulimics and a minority of restricting anorexics
• Tend to be conscientious "good girls"
• Aim to please, excel, and conform
• Worry about details 
• So fearful of mistakes they can't get their work in on time 
• "Read an arched eyebrow as contempt, a frown as a stiletto through the heart" 
• Intensely self-critical

3. Undercontrolled 

• Split about evenly between bulimics and anorexics who binge/purge
• Emotions are intense
• Behaviors are impulsive
• Tend to fly into rages instead of expressing anger passively or turning it inward
• Desperately seek relationships to soothe themselves

(Crossover exists, particularly between the perfectionistic and undercontrolled groups, particularly during recovery) 

Lifelong?! Ughhh. That makes this SO MUCH harder. But is ultimately, good to know. Because now, instead of fighting my temperament, I can learn how to manage it, to work with it, to direct it in ways that allow it to flourish instead of wither and die. 

The question that must precede any meaningful or lasting change is, Who cares? Who cares whether you live or die, become a janitor or a rocket scientist, wear a size 2--or a size 20? The answer may seem obvious. Given the obsessiveness with which the eating disordered worry about their bodies, they clearly care a great deal. Just consider the language of these disorders. Though filled with self-loathing, anorexics excel at self-discipline and selfless acts of humility and generosity, which they often take to extremes of self-denial and self-punishment. Bulimics tend to be more selfish and self-motivated, but like anorexics, they are acutely self-conscious and riven with self-doubt and self-contempt. Both groups resist self-awareness even as they behave in ways that appear utterly self-involved. Eating disorders are all about the self--a self that somehow claims the center of attention while refusing to claim its own true needs and wants. Recovery begs the larger question: If I'm the one who cares so much, who, then, am I? Until we gain the courage to solve this complex riddle, the figure in the mirror--at any weight--will go right on tormenting us. (p. 39)

Melinda explained to me the other day that this phase of recovery is like me standing on the edge of a cliff and my team telling me to trust them and jump, when all that I can see below me is a giant black hole. Yep. Basically how I feel right there. It's terrifying. 

But I guess it's also exciting. Professor Barlett put it to me this way: 

"It is a time for you to figure out who you are and how that aligns with who you want to be. It's tough. You would think 'who you are' would be innate and we would not have to think about developing it, but that is why so many people just move along in life not questioning anything. It's hard."

At the same time, though, I have this opportunity to figure out who I am. I have the chance to discover my likes and my dislikes, what I'm passionate about and what I couldn't care less about--EVERYTHING. But the sheer open-ended-ness of the possibilities, is, I think, what is so scary. 

Chapter 3--The Laws of Perfection: Obsession and Compulsion

The facts:

• Most people who have had an ED believe perfection is real and attainable and that it is their duty to reach it
• Perfection is by definition unattainable, leaving perfectionists perpetually frustrated and disappointed
• Perfectionism is innate--a function of the temperament one is born with
• Obsessive-compulsive personality--defined as one who is cautious, rigidly focused, stubborn, perfectionistic, convinced their way is right and everyone else is wrong, terrified of making mistakes
• Stress heightens perfectionism

“The greatest obstacle to perfection is our own inescapably human fallibility. The more we try to prove our infallibility, the more we are bound to fail.” (p. 47)

“The emotional promise of perfection is security: no one will criticize you, try to change you, or touch you if you have your universe in order. But perfection is impossible, frustration is inevitable and at times unbearable.” (p.53)

Guilty as charged. I am a perfectionist. I feel more secure when everything appears to be "perfect." It's true. I freely admit that. 

People with EDs, especially anorexia, tend to have high serotonin levels all the time, which heighten anxiety and lead to these personality traits--

• Organized
• Driven
• Somewhat compulsive
• Extremely obedient
• Overachieving
• Good at following through
• Sleep too much
• Rarely impulsive
• Rarely domineering
• Timid
• Risk-averse
• Need routine
• Do worse in novel situations
• Prone to depression

I mostly fit all of these characteristics. I also know that my serotonin levels are wonky, hence being on SSRIs. But. This is just super interesting to me (it also makes neuro easier because it gives me a real-life application! #psychnerd).

“Character is the real stuff of recovery because it consists of the traits we can change—unlike temperament, which is largely innate and permanent. If one thinks of temperament as the genetic wiring of personality, then character consists of the circuit boards that route, suppress, or maximize the currents flowing through that wiring. The three traits that comprise character—self-directedness, self-transcendence, and cooperativeness—are shaped less by genetics than by experience (how we are raised by our parents, for example, or trained by our culture) and free will (how we choose to interpret and react to experience).” (p. 61-62)

1. Self-directedness

• Measured by the degree of meaning and purpose we feel in our lives
• Less to do with what we want and more to do with why we want it
• Highly self-directed people: realistic about abilities, effective in choices, persistent in problem-solving, hold themselves accountable, take pride in reliability
• Not the same as self-sufficiency
• Allows us to work, play, and love others without fearing we’ll lose ourselves while doing it

 2. Cooperativeness

• Makes us feel part of society
• Benefits from self-directedness
• Highly cooperative people: personal passions and talents flourish in groups, high empathy, tolerance, and compassion for others, broad perspective on self

3. Self-transcendence

• Allows us to feel part of the greater universe
• Gives us faith
• Alleviates fear
• Measure of “the depths of self-aware consciousness, such as awareness of what it means to see the colors of a rainbow or the beauty of a painting….Individuals high in self-transcendence recognize the beauty and meaning of sensory experiences intuitively.” (p. 64)

I guess these are the things that I need to focus on right now--what gives me meaning and purpose, what makes me feel part of society, what allows me to feel part of the greater universe. Those aren't easy things to identify, for anyone, much less someone in recovery. But they are things that I can explore right now, things that I have the time to explore right now, and even though that's terrifying, it's pretty amazing. 

“The struggle between who we are and who we want to be is what motivates most human beings to grow….Unfortunately, what perfectionists strive to prove is impossible. No one is perfect, and everyone has limits. What kills us will not make us stronger or prettier or more lovable. A sense of purpose, connection, and perspective, however, can and will.” (p. 64)

Growth comes from struggling to get from who I am to who I want to be. Struggling. Not moving, not swimming, but struggling. It's not going to be easy. It's going to be difficult. It is a struggle.  And it will not be perfect.

“Error sometimes supplies the surprise that makes life interesting. Sometimes it opens up new opportunities. There’s a good reason why we rarely remember, much less tell stories about, the perfect landings.” (p. 66)

New opportunities. Different opportunities. Terrifying, but opportunities, which will lead to gaining things. 

Progress.

Pleasure.

Life.

(Stay tuned for part 2 of my review of Gaining! I don't want to overwhelm anyone--or myself--with an absurdly long blog post.)