I sat in supervision at my intern site yesterday, working with my supervisor on different networking ideas to get myself, or my career I should say, moving forward. I was discussing ideas on eating disorder workshops, and how to get myself going on that, when my supervisor asked me why I chose that as a specialty, being that is a relatively narrow field. I made a quick reference to having gone through one myself for eight years, and geared the conversation back to logistics. My supervisor picked up on this and changed topics with me, however, at the conclusion of supervision hour she asked me, “if you don’t mind my asking, we have a couple of clients here experiencing an eating disorder right now, what happens in someone’s life that causes this?”
Everything. Nothing. I have no idea and I have every idea. Who signs themselves up willingly for something that controls their every moment? Who chooses to succumb to something that controls them? Eats at them from the inside out? Dictates their every waking moment, every thought, every work day and vacation, every Christmas and coffee date, every movie or book they read, every run and every nightmare? I have been asked more times than not, “why didn’t you just stop?”
Because I enjoyed it. Because I like hating myself and destroying my body to try to make that feel better. Because I love the feeling of listening to voices scream at me inside my head telling me the grades, the degrees, the hard work means nothing because I’m fat and disgusting and worthless. I like lying to my family and scaring them. I get a rush off of staying home because I feel too fat to go to the movies with my friends. Who wouldn’t want to stare at food on a dinner date with anxiety because if you eat it you won’t have time to go to the gym afterwards and run it off? Is it not fun for people to cry in Burger King because they’re out of salads and you have to eat a cheeseburger in front of people so they don’t find out?
I don’t know why I did it; it started as insecurity, and at some point consumed my life. I don’t know where it started and I am not even sure when it ended. I know there are people closest to me who blame themselves, and I know deep inside they are wondering how someone with half a brain and potential like I have would waste it on worrying about weight. I know people who don’t know me, or anyone who has gone through something like this even try to understand. That’s okay, at one point I would have tried to justify it, but at this point I don’t really care. Why do drug addicts become addicted to drugs? Why do alcoholics drink? Why do people spend money they don’t have and get themselves in debt to keep up with the Joneses? We all make decisions against our better judgment, and my decision just turned into something that I couldn’t control.
To wake up every morning with a routine that is self-destructive, negative, and binding, it makes waking up difficult sometimes. To be in a relationship with someone who sees this happening to you but turns a blind eye because it’s inconvenient for them, it’s isolating. To hate yourself so much you will allow yourself, your own person, to hurt yourself, not protect yourself from being a victim, but being the perpetrator in your own demise, it’s shameful. To be caught up in thoughts so horrible and controlling, and loud, it’s deafening. This isn’t a mental illness you can take medication for and work through how to cope. This is a mental illness that few people have any empathy for, there are fewer therapists trained in this field than any other, and it is something that people who love you cannot understand. The love they do have for you causes the protective side of them to come out, but this is often communicated as anger, or a “why do you do this, just stop doing this”, and you get to the point where you don’t want anyone around you. You don’t want people seeing you like this, you don’t have the time or patience to explain to people what is happening to you, and quite frankly, you know they are incapable of understanding if you tried.
When someone recovers from something like this, we pat them on the back and say good job. Those of us who have been through it are sensitive enough to the reactions of people to know that most are thinking, “It isn’t hard to decide to eat again”. Oh, but it is. These thoughts don’t just go away because you wake up and decide you don’t think you’re fat anymore. Someone saying “you’re too skinny” isn’t a conviction that can catapult us into recovery; it is a compliment that makes it that much harder to change. Of course we want to stop, eventually. A drug addict eventually wants to get sober right? The problem is the fear that overwhelms us if we do. How will we look if we begin eating again? How do you not work out hours a day? What thoughts will replace the ones were trying to remove? A person suffering from Dissociative Disorder (multiple personality Disorder) has a hard time overcoming the illness because they don’t necessarily want to get rid of the different people living within their mind. They have become attached to them, learned to cope with life through them. It is the same for eating disorders. This is how we live. Whether we like it or not, this.is.how.we.live.
I overcame my eating disorder three years ago. The thoughts, they don’t go away. I have to work every single day at keeping them at bay. I struggle everyday with wanting to revert back to something that is more familiar to me than not.
Who knows how we get to this place. How do I answer something like that in five minutes? It would take longer than people are interested in listening to explain how we get to this place. What can you do to help? Removing the confusion that leads you to expect us to explain why we’re doing what we’re doing is a good place to start. Just love us.
It’s all we really need, is someone to love us, because we’re not doing the best job at loving ourselves.
