Goal for 2014: Be Me-sponsible

It's a new year. And a lot of resolutions are being passed around with a slogan of "new year, new you." Most of these resolutions have to do with dieting, weight loss, exercising more... You get the picture. I for one am ridiculously sick of hearing and seeing all of those commercials advertising for these products "guaranteed" to change your life or the products that are shaming you for "indulging" over the holidays and convincing you that you need to lose those five pounds that you put on over the past month or so.

I'm over all of it. I didn't stay up until midnight to watch the ball drop because I was in bed by 11. I didn't make any New Year's resolutions because I know that I will not achieve them because honestly, who does? Also, it's not necessarily in my best interests to make resolutions right now. I was reading this blog post the other day about how resolutions can be kind of iffy in the world of ED recovery and that “Resolutions can trigger perfectionistic behaviors and all-or-nothing thinking. Recovery is a reality when we are compassionate with ourselves and focus on the thoughts and behaviors that are in line with what is satisfying for us, deep in our hearts.”

In treatment, I'm beginning to focus more on what I ultimately want out of my life--where I see my ideal self, what makes my life a life worth living. As a group, we're going through life values and setting goals in all aspects of life. And through this process, I have learned that a lot of my goals in the areas that I value can and will only be achieved once I have reached a healthy and recovered place in life. So individually, I've been working on developing this idea of recovery--what it looks like for me, what it means for me, what it is on a very operational level. And I think that article put it well:

Recovery is a reality when we are compassionate with ourselves and focus on the thoughts and behaviors that are in line with what is satisfying for us, deep in our hearts.

At this time of year, everyone around me is making New Year's Resolutions, mostly around eating less and exercising more and losing X pounds, in hopes of making their lives happier or themselves more successful or healthy or thinner or what-have-you. And I'm stuck in this place of trying to figure out what I want my recovery to look like, what I want my life to look like, who I, in a world without an ED, want to be.

Right now, New Year's Resolutions are not even on my radar. Resolutions are so final and not malleable. You set them and that's it--you either achieve success or failure. There is no in between, no middle ground, no grey area.

I've been spending my time making goals for myself--goals that involve having what we refer to in treatment as a "life worth living." Goals that involve going back to Gettysburg in the fall, having healthy and deep relationships, being recovered and healthy and not eating disordered. Goals of pursuing a PhD program in clinical psychology and eventually becoming and ED therapist, researcher, and activist.

It's unrealistic for me to achieve all of these things in the upcoming year, even if I break them down into smaller, more specific goals.

Life doesn't go according to my plans, I've realized. I will set goals and not achieve them. I will make plans and not follow through. I will not live up to my expectations. I will have bad days and lapses and relapses in recovery. I will fail and I will make mistakes. Becoming a better person, developing my character, recovering--all of these things take much longer than year.

And although I have been and will continue to set goals for the upcoming days, weeks, months, and year, I have no expectations of what the year will look like. Will I be back at Gettysburg in the fall? I don't know. Will I be "recovered" by the end of this year? I don't know. Will I know who I am and how I fit into this world? I have no idea. The only thing that I can be certain of is that life is filled with uncertainty. And I can make plans and goals and dreams, but there is only a minute degree to which I can control the environment around me.

What I can control is myself. I can wake up every morning with a fresh start for a new day. I can learn how to be more caring and compassionate to myself. But most importantly, regardless of the situation, I can live each and every day to a degree that satisfies my soul.

-----
"I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes. 
Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You’re doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you’re doing something.
So that’s my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make new mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody’s ever made before. Don’t freeze, don’t stop, don’t worry that it isn't good enough, or it isn't perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life.
Whatever it is you’re scared of doing, do it.
Make your mistakes, next year and forever."
-- Neil Gaiman

An Attitude of Gratitude in the Chaos

I promised myself that I would blog about my first day of day treatment (from here on out, known as DTP).  I promised myself that I would blog about Thanksgiving and how to survive it and have a super compilation of all of the articles I read about how to survive it if you have an eating disorder and how to support a loved one through Thanksgiving. And I did neither of those things. 

My first day of DTP was a whirlwind, from which I went straight into a car for the five hour journey to Michigan, where Thanksgiving happened, then we made the five hour trek back home, and I completed my second day of DTP. So none of the blogging got done because well, DTP is exhausting and I was tired, and I also didn't have the interwebs in the car.  

"By this point, I had long since accepted that I had a problem that could be called anorexia, although I didn't think I was thin enough to 'qualify' for the diagnosis. I was also quite happy to recover from my eating disorder, just as long as I didn't have to eat and gain weight."

--Carrie Arnold, Decoding Anorexia

I started reading Decoding Anorexia by Carrie Arnold last week sometime, and I have still to make it past the introductory chapter because I'm not sure right now is the time for me to read this book.  The quote above has stuck with me ever since I read it the first time because that's exactly where my mind is right now.  I have a foot in both camps--one is in the do-whatever-it-takes-to-recover camp, while the other remains in the I-like-the-idea-but-don't-want-to-eat/not lose-weight camp.

I keep having this discussion with people--from school, from treatment, from my team.  And every single one of them finds it normal that I feel this way and normal that I feel conflicted at this stage.  I mean, I currently have two competing ideologies in my head.  

And I still don't completely understand how sick I am.  I can look at the DSM and see how I fit the diagnosis of anorexia (Criterion B in the DSM: Intense fear of gaining weight. Check.), and I can be told again and again by doctors and therapists and friends and family that I am sick, and I think that I'm just finally becoming on board with that.  I still have my moments though.  

But recovery vs. continuing with my eating disorder?  I don't know.  I can still barely wrap my head around having an ED.  

In DTP, the group leaders have both told me that this is perfectly normal and that acceptance and commitment to recovery will take time for me to develop, but that it will happen and that will be a big part of my recovery.

My doctor today told me that it is going to take time for my mind to get there.  She said that as long as I continue to show up and do the hard work, it will get easier to want to recover.  And she also said that it's completely okay to have one foot in the recovery camp and one foot in the not recovery camp, even if I'm only 51% in the first and 49% in the latter, as long as I'm letting that 51% win.  And sometimes, my balance shifts and it becomes more like 50.00000001% in the recovery camp.

For days I have been feeling like the most insane person on the planet with all of these dissonant thoughts running around in my head.  But today, I feel better because of DTP and because of the supportive staff that work there and I am so thankful for that.

So today, the day after what I'm renaming "Thankfulness Day" because it really is supposed to be about giving thanks, I'm going to turn my mind to the blessings that I have right now, in the chaos, in the uncertainty, in the hard times. And right now, in this moment...

I'm thankful to exist and to be alive;

I'm thankful for warm blankets and naps that bring rest and for knitting, and Criminal Minds to distract after a long few days;

I'm thankful for writing, for blogging, for journaling and for the outlet it gives me right now;

I'm thankful for family and friends who are supportive of my recovery journey;

I'm thankful for a house and loving parents to come home to;

I'm thankful for Gettysburg friends who have been sending love and encouragement, for administrators who have gone above and beyond the call of duty to help me with all the logistics (and to encourage me when I need it), for professors who are becoming more like family away from home and who continue to encourage and support from afar;

I'm thankful for my home community and for older and wiser friends, who I am now becoming close to because of my struggles;

I'm thankful for babies to snuggle and children to watch, for the reminder that life is precious and for the joy their presence brings to me;

I'm thankful for everyone I know who is struggling or has struggled with an ED--for my friends, for those I met and am meeting in treatment, for those I've met by being vulnerable about my own life, for those I've met at school and the NEDA Conference, for those who I blog-creep on--because every single one of these people make me feel less alone and give me a reason to fight my own ED;

I'm thankful for CCED and their staff who are supportive of my recovery and validating of my fears, who understand how overwhelming it is to "just eat" or to "just follow your meal plan," who care about every individual in DTP, who come to work every day with a smile and know exactly what to say to make me laugh, who give me a place of safety where I can be vulnerable and where people just get how I'm feeling;

And I'm thankful for the 50% of me in the recovery camp that gets me to actually go to treatment, because like my therapist continues to tell me, the best thing I am doing for myself right now is simply showing up.

It's okay to quit

Three days ago, I was informed by my college that because I am taking medical leave for the rest of this semester that I could not return for Spring semester.  Three days ago, I was incredibly pissed off about it.  And three days ago, I was ready to end treatment, walk away from my health, and go back to school.  

Three days ago, I was ready to quit.

And then I found this post on Psychology Today which gives advice on when it's okay to quit.  The post contains these guidelines on when quitting is okay:

It's okay to quit...
...when you've gathered new information that makes the original plan unworkable;
...when the timing is wrong;
...when you thought you could do more than you can;
...when you're changing directions;
...when to keep going will deplete you of energy you need for something else;
...when you made a mistake;
...when quitting is the most compassionate thing you can do for yourself at the moment.

When I was growing up, my parents taught me not to be a quitter--that if you're going to start something, you better finish it.  You don't quit.  So making the decision to take a medical leave from school this semester--to quit for the rest of the semester--caused a lot of cognitive dissonance.  But reading that article made me think.  And it got me to thinking about my current situation and whether or not it was okay to quit a second time simply because a policy stated that I had to take next semester off from school as well. 

When you've gathered new information that makes the original plan unworkable...
Does not being able to return next semester make my original plan unworkable?  Originally, I planned for taking some time off of school, going through treatment, recovering, and returning to school for spring semester.  Well.  The spring semester thing was a little bit unreasonable.  Recovery from an eating disorder that has taken over six years of my life is not going to happen in two months.  That was an irrational part of my plan.

But now, because I cannot return to school in the spring, does that make taking time off, doing treatment, recovering, and returning to school unworkable?  No.  In fact, it is probably the wiser decision.  Because rushing through treatment and not achieving full recovery before returning back to school will just land me right back here in another year or two.

When the timing is wrong...
The timing for treatment and recovery will never be right.  I will never 'be ready for recovery.'  Actually, the timing is kind of perfect--I have a school willing to work with me, parents here to support me, and no major obligations in the foreseeable future.  The timing, no, is not perfect.  It throws off my four year college plan.  But the timing will never be perfect.  The only things that are wrong with the timing are things that ED wants to get in the way of my recovery. Otherwise, the timing is pretty dang perfect.

When you thought you could do more than you can... 
I'm going to apply this to a couple of different things.  First, finishing this semester at Gettysburg.  It was okay to quit there because I definitely was trying to do more than I was capable of in that situation.  I was in a severe relapse of my anorexia, depression, and anxiety--severe enough that I was not going to class or participating in any outside activities.  Quitting, or taking a medical leave, was exactly the right decision.

Second, quitting at trying to come back in the spring.  One of the reasons that I was given for not being allowed to return is that there is not enough time between now and then for me to show a prolonged period of stability, which is true.  As much as I and many others would like, the recovery process is not short and sweet.  It's not something that I will be able to rush through in a couple of weeks.  Thinking that I can achieve a point of stability and be ready to return in the spring is irrational.  Full recovery takes time.  And I know that if I returned in the spring without having achieved full recovery, although I may be fine for a while, I will eventually relapse.  It's appropriate to quit trying to return before I am ready.

When you're changing directions...
I am changing directions with my life.  I am going from a half-lived life of an eating disorder, regulated by food rules and calorie counting and routine, to a fulfilled life of walking in freedom.  My life is completely changing directions.  So it is okay to quit on school for a while in order to change the direction of my life.

When to keep going will deplete you of energy you need for something else...
Continuing on the path of putting my schooling ahead of my health would literally kill me.  It would allow my body to waste away because of anorexia.  All of the energy spent feeding my eating disorder is better spent absorbing knowledge, taking walks with friends, and living my life.  Continuing on the path of anorexia will deplete me of the energy I need to live.

When you make a mistake...
I did make a mistake.  My mistake was made back in high school when I choose not to buy into treatment and the idea that I had a problem.  My mistake was ignoring all of my team's advice on how to avoid relapse.  My mistake was thinking that I could do this on my own.  And my mistake definitely cost me a lot.  GPA.  Friends.  Experiences.  I made a mistake, so quitting right now is okay.  It is okay to go back, start at the beginning, and work to learn from that mistake so that I will not make it again.

When quitting is the most compassionate thing you can do for yourself at the moment...
When I first got the idea to write this post, I was thinking about the question, 'Is it okay to quit treatment because I can't come back to school next semester?'  When I started writing, that's what I was thinking.  But I've realized now that in the back of my mind, I've still be stuck on the idea of taking medical leave from, or quitting, school for the rest of this academic year.  In the back of my mind, that was still what a question that I had.  'Is quitting school temporarily the best thing for me?'

It's this part of the philosophy of quitting that strikes me the most.  Yesterday, I got into a car accident on my way to the doctor (everyone was fine--it was just a minor rear-ending because I wasn't paying attention on the off-ramp).  When I went to the doctor, she was concerned that my heart rate was so low after an accident, so she did an EKG, which showed bradycardia.  Basically, my heart is beating a lot slower than normal because it is having to work much harder.  It's a sign, in my case, of malnutrition.  It signals that my body is beginning to eat away at its own organs because its nutritional needs are not being met by actual food.  She told me that I was not allowed to have caffeine, do physical activity, or any other type of stimulant.  She also told me that it's probably best for me that I do not return to school in the spring because recovery takes a long time.

I know the physical complications of anorexia.  And I thought I was fine.  It's so easy to be wrapped up in the disorder and in fighting school policy to not look at what my body needs.  My physical body needs my attention.  My body needs nourishment.  My body needs treatment.  Quitting school for the rest of the year is definitely going to suck.  I'm going to hate not being there and not having my friends around.


But it's like the article said, it is okay to quit if: "Quitting is the most compassionate thing you can do for yourself at the moment."

And right now, for me, it is.