On Being a Recovery Blogger In Recovery

I am a recovery blogger.

I write about my recovery from my eating disorder and my other co-occurring conditions.

On my Facebook page, I share links about mental illnesses and recovery. I share body positive articles; I share articles about anxiety and depression recovery, about body image, about mental health in general.

I am an eating disorder and mental health activist.

I am an Assistant Editor and Writer for Libero Network, and I blog on occasion for The Project Heal.

I am a psychology major hoping to one day specialize in the treatment of eating disorders.

But I am also in recovery.

This means that sometimes, I am full of hypocrisy. Sometimes, the words I write, the articles I share, the advice I spew out of my mouth is full of truths I don't believe. Sometimes it's riddled with ED's deception goals to fake people into thinking everything is peachy. Sometimes it's all just bullshit.

Sometimes I have months like these past few and cannot for the life of me spin my experiences in a positive manner. Months where I take two trips to the emergency room and receive stitches for self-harm. Months where I accidentally drink too much in front of my entire extended family. Months where I am not even close to full meal plan compliance and my doctor threatens to not let me go back to school. Months where I struggle just as much to keep food down as I do to get food in my body.

I think I sometimes get so wrapped up in my role as advocate that I try to manage perceptions of me so I will seem more credible and trustworthy because I've been through the war. Who wants to wants to read a recovery blog by someone who's struggling? What kind of credibility do I have offering advice on healing when I'm not healed? How do I promote acceptance and recovery when I don't always want it for myself?

So instead of admitting I don't know all the answers, instead of admitting weakness, instead of sharing my struggles, I hide. I avoid coming to my blog and sharing my journey. I avoid writing posts and articles for other organizations. I avoid commenting on any articles I share on Facebook.

Here's the thing--the very nature of recovery means some days will be miserable and others will be amazing. It means some days are wired for struggle while others are pure bliss. It means there will be bad days and good days.

Sometimes my wanting to control my image perception as an advocate gets in the way of my recovery. It's hard to focus on recovery when you become obsessed with gaining blog followers and becoming a successful writer. It is harder to recover when you are consumed by your image, your credibility, your fears.

I originally began this blog for me, as a way to connect with others, process my journey, and chronicle my life. It was a way to achieve healing and peace within my own mind. I just wanted to write.

I think it's time I get back to that.

Why I Write & Why I Share

Sometimes people ask me why I blog--why I would choose to chronicle my journey and recovery in such a public manner.  Actually, the majority of people in my life don't even know that I keep a blog.  Which is strange, considering that I've lately taken to sharing my blog posts on Facebook.  

But one of the most common questions I get is something along the lines of, "Why are you so open about your struggles?" Or the stated variation of that question, "It's really brave of you to talk about this so openly and honestly." 

Why do I talk about it? And why do I blog about it? 

I write because one post takes a lot less time to write than it does to explain what I'm going through to all of my friends and family. I write, sometimes, to simply give out information.

I write because writing is therapy for me. I shared one of my latest blog posts with a professor at school, who responded, "Your post, while written almost like you are educating others, seems like you're trying to convince yourself of everything you're typing." I write to understand. To understand myself, my life, and the world around me better. I write because it helps--getting it all down on paper. It helps to take all the facts and information and articles that have been bouncing around in my head and combine them into an imperfect masterpiece that helps me to understand myself. 

I write because I want to remember. No, I take that back. I don't want to remember these days.  These days are pure hell.  They are miserable and I don't want to remember them.  I NEED to remember them.  I need to remember them because according to statistics (and the fact that I am a psychology major hoping to specialize in eating disorders), I am one day going to be sitting across the table from a young woman who is in a similar position to what I am in today and I need to be able to look her in the eyes and say, "I know what you are going through because I lived through it, and I promise you, it will get better." I need to remember because it will make me a better therapist, a better empathizer, and a better human being. 

I write because there are approximately 24 million men and women in the United States suffer from a clinically significant eating disorder. Let me point out that clinically significant in the statistic only includes binge eating disorder, bulimia, and anorexia. There are other types of eating disorders out there with the most common being Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified (EDNOS), which is what I was originally diagnosed with in 2011. 

I write because there are hundreds of thousands of people suffering in silence from an eating disorder, anxiety, and/or depression and who feel like they are completely alone in their struggle. Since I've been more open and vulnerable with my struggles and my past, many of my friends, family, and acquaintances have reached out to me and said, 'Me too.' They can't always relate to all of it, but they can relate to some of it. And each and every one of them have told me about their fears of speaking out about their struggles or about how brave I am to speak openly about mine.

I write because there is still stigma around mental disorders.

I write because people are still afraid to seek professional help for psychological disorders because society still thinks that having a mental disorder makes you crazy, insane. Because our society looks down on any type of weakness, even if that weakness or struggle is no fault of that person.

I write because there are still people who think that eating disorders and depression and anxiety are just choices that a person makes.  That someone with an eating disorder can just 'start eating normally' again, or that someone with depression can just 'stop being sad and be happy,' or that someone with anxiety can just 'get over it.'  

I write because there are still people who don't believe that eating disorders have biological, environmental, psychological, social, and genetic causes. There are people who still think that eating disorders are just diets or just a phase. There are people who still think that, as Carrie Arnold says in Decoding Anorexia, "Bad parenting caused eating disorders. Our thin-is-in culture caused eating disorders. A need for control caused eating disorders. Low self-esteem caused eating disorders," even though recent research has proved them wrong. 

I write because when someone finds out that you are diagnosed with cancer, they bring you casseroles, ask how you're doing, and offer to help in any way that they can. But no one wants to know if you have been diagnosed with a mental illness for what? Some irrational fear that they might catch it? The author of this Slate article talks about the ignorance of mental illnesses in this way: 

"Friends talk about cancer and other physical maladies more easily than about psychological afflictions. Breasts might draw blushes, but brains are unmentionable. These questions are rarely heard: 'How’s your depression these days?' 'What improvements do you notice now that you have treatment for your ADD?' 'Do you find your manic episodes are less intense now that you are on medication?' 'What does depression feel like?' 'Is the counseling helpful?'"

I write because stigma around mental health issues not only exists, but is very present in our society. And maybe by telling my story, it can help to lessen that stigma just the tiniest bit. 

Maybe it will help some random person out there to feel less alone. 

Or maybe it just helps me to understand it all. 

Flight or Invisibility.

Follow my blog with Bloglovin Flight or invisibility?  Pick one.  Why should I have to?  Honestly, there is no reason that I should have to choose between two superpowers.  I am not a superhero and these superpowers could never exist in the real world, so I don’t even need to make an actual decision.  I suppose I could make up something entirely stereotypical about how I would love to fly so that I wouldn't have to walk everywhere or about how I want to be invisible so that I can hide when I don’t want to be seen, but there’s no point.  I don’t want to fly.  I don’t want to be invisible.  I don’t want to have superpowers.  It’s that simple. 

Why?  Look at our culture today.  We spend so much time telling people that they are simply not good enough how they are.  We tell people that they need to be smarter, more talented, skinnier, taller, shorter, whatever it is that we are lacking until all of us believe that we have to be able to do everything for everyone all of the time.  It’s impossible!  We are not superheroes and we never will be.  There’s no reason to wish that we were either, so I don’t.  I am perfectly content with the talents that I have been given—talents that do not, in fact, include being invisible or flying.  I refuse to wish for something that I don’t have, especially if it’s something that I’ll never get, because if I do that, what am I teaching my little cousins, my kids at camp, and all of my younger friends who look toward me as an example? 

Flight or invisibility?  I will take having my own mere human talents over both of those any day.  Besides, who’s to say that normal human talent isn’t a superpower?  

What Am I Doing With My Life?

So.

Every so often, I just randomly have these panic attacks where I have no idea what I'm going to do with my life. Actually, it's pretty much every day that it happens. Or. It used to be.

But today, it hit me.

I don't think that I want to be a psychology major. 

I thought that was what I wanted to do--work in a treatment center for women with eating disorders. I had it all planned out. But now, I'm not so sure. Because yes, I love helping people. I love working with people who have eating disorders. I like talking to them, relating, encouraging, sharing my story.

But if I go into psychology, I can't do that. I can't share my story like I would want to. And honestly, I don't think that it would be good for me to face potentially triggering situations all day. At least not right now.

I know I want to write.

I want to write about things that are important to me. About Jesus. About eating disorders and mental illness. About families, women's rights, children. About recovery. About hope. About politics, about America, about important people, about history.

I want to use my voice.

Last year, I remember writing a poem about how I felt like no one listened to me. That no one heard my voice. And there I was, using my voice.
Writing.

Not talking. 

Writing.

I want to write. 

I want to be that person who changes the world, who inspires the hopeless, who makes a difference in her words. I want to tell my story. I want to tell the story of others. I want to make a difference. I want to use my voice. 

If I was a psychologist, I would still write. It's not something that I ever wanted to give up. In fact, it's something that I was always planning on continuing all throughout my life. I wanted to write a book once my career got started. Or before. I didn't really care-- I just wanted to write. 

But here's the thing, if I keep writing as my focus, that doesn't mean that I can't work as an activist. In fact, it gives me even more of an opportunity to raise awareness about things that are important to me like eating disorders, sexual assault, rape, and women's rights. It gives me more time to write about things that inspire me-- President Obama, my kids, camp, Jesus. It gives me more time to use my words to tell my story, and more importantly, to tell the stories of others. 

It gives me time to work in activism. To speak out. To travel. To make a difference. To volunteer. To work with others. 

But, I don't know what I'll do for sure. 

So right now, I'm going to keep my psychology major. But I'm going to add an English with a writing concentration major. And I'm going to minor in women's studies. 

And after that, who knows? 

I'm only in my second semester of college. I don't have to have this all figured out right now. 

I have time.