"Shame is a soul eating emotion." Carl Jung

I was recently asked to speak to women at my church about the subject of guilt. I really enjoyed delving into this topic. The one thing I didn't want to do was to paint guilt as a horrible thing that we should never feel. So the whole point of my talk was using guilt to grow and become a better person. 

One important clarification I needed to make was the difference between guilt and shame. They are very different. The first time I thought about the differences between these two words was while reading a book by the amazingly, talented Brené Brown. Brown says, "Shame is a focus on self, guilt is a focus on behavior.  Shame is 'I'm bad'.  Guilt is 'I did something bad.'" To put it bluntly, "Shame is soul eating emotion."(Carl Jung)

Some might think it's just semantics, but I feel very strongly that these two words are very different. I believe when we understand that difference and apply it in our lives it is critical in how we engage in relationships, parent, interact with people at work and church. By understanding these two different concepts we can better identify thoughts and work on keeping ourselves positive and open.  Let's take a look at a perfect example of how guilt can build us up and shame can destroy us. 

Guilt, if used as a way to adjust ones behavior to ones moral compass can lead us to the bright redemption of Christ. Shame, on the other hand, leads us to believe we are beyond help and this leads us down the dark steep path to Satan.  In the Bible, Jesus is betrayed by two apostles; Judas and Peter.  Each man handles his actions differently.  Judas experiences shame. He was so ashamed of what he did he couldn't see any way to redeem his soul of his action. Because of his shame, Judas was driven to commit suicide. Peter on the other hand, felt guilt for what he did. Peter chose to turn to the cleansing power of the atonement of Jesus Christ. He used his guilt as a tool to learn and rebuild verses shame as a tool to destroy and give up.  If Peter had allowed his guilt to turn to shame, think about how different thing would have turned out!  

Guilt vs shame is a very real battle. Brown mentions an interesting point, "Shame is highly, highly correlated with addiction, depression, violence, aggression, bullying, suicide, and eating disorders....Guilt is inversely correlated with those things."  As I work to recover from an eating disorder. I see how helpful guilt can be, and how counterproductive and destructive shame can be. Shame is what kept me hidden and prevented me from getting help. It was guilt that motivated me to finally get help.  Shame tells me I'm a horrible mother because of my eating disorder. Guilt tells me because I'm a good mother I must fight the eating disorder. Shame tells me I don't need to eat. Guilt tells me my body needs nourishment to be healthy. Shame tells me no one cares about my problems. Guilt tells me not to shut my loved ones out.  When I let shame dictate my behavior in regards to my eating disorder, I end up dis- regulated, unhappy, lonely, and dark. Guilt, on the other hand, leads me to willingly take the steps of recovery, hopeful, willing to make restitution, and confident.  

I must issue a warning - guilt is still hard. Just because guilt is the right way to handle our actions that don't line up with our moral compass doesn't mean it's easy. Brown says, "The ability to hold something we've done, or failed to do, up against who we want to be is incredibly adaptive. It's uncomfortable, but adaptive."  Uncomfortable might be an understatement in some cases. Think of how hard it must have been for Paul to face the Saints after denying Christ. But look at how Paul used his guilt to grow and adapt into the leader of Christ's church. Visiting with my therapist can be very uncomfortable, but as I learn tools and skills to overcome the eating disorder I am growing stronger and adapting. 

Next time you make a mistake or upset your moral compass, ask yourself if you feel guilt or shame. Pick the right path to bring you towards where you want to be. Resolve to use guilty feelings as a tool for improvement and growth, instead of a gateway to shame and hopelessness. 

Honesty is the Best Policy

Honesty is a virtue I've been taught the importance of since I was just little. In the Christian world it's one of the Ten Commandments that all religions agree are the basic foundations of righteous living. It's also one area that I feel I do pretty good at.  But now I'm not so sure I've been totally honest in every aspect of my life. 

Eating disorders by nature are very secretive things. There is a high level of hiding, avoiding, and denying. None of those concepts are very honest by nature. However, even on my worst days I felt I had been honest. When asked what I had eaten I would answer honestly, "No much" or "Just some Greek yogurt and trail mix". If asked a question directly about food I may feel uncomfortable but I always gave an honest answer. 

But my pride in being honest through my struggle with anorexia was challenged this week after a visit with my therapist. This visit was very different then my usual visits because this time my hubby came with me. After a rough month, he was feeling a bit unsure as to how to help me. My therapist offered to have him join us.  As he expressed his frustration with know how best to help me, he mentioned that he usually knows when I'm struggling. However when he asks me what's wrong I reply, "nothing" or "I'm fine". I admitted that he was right. That is my reply. 

My therapist asked me why I didn't open up and tell him what was going on?  I told her that I have a hard time admitting to people that I'm struggling. I don't want people to worry. I don't want people to think I'm weak. I don't want people to be disappointed in me. I don't want people to be mad at me. I also told her that sometimes I'm not even sure how I feel until I spend some time thinking about it or writing about it. 

Then came the analogy or the parable of the green lamp: Stephen walks into a room and I point to a blue lamp and say, "Look at this green lamp." He responds, "It's a blue lamp."  I say, "No, it's green."  No matter what I say, Stephen can obviously see the lamp is NOT green!  It's is blue. And no matter how many times I say the lamp is green, it will remain blue. 

The same goes with my feelings and struggles. I can tell Stephen (or my mom, or my friends...) all day long that I'm fine, but it is usually very obvious that I am not fine. I can keep saying I'm fine, but that is just not being honest. This realization made me feel horrible. One of the few things I told myself as I battled with ED is that I was honest. Yet, all the sudden I realized I wasn't honest at all about how I was feeling. 

The trickiest and most cruel trick ED uses is to make you feel isolated and alone. It is a truly horrible feeling. By not being honest about my feelings with my husband and loved ones, I was giving ED even more power. I was helping to seclude myself from support and love. I thought about how hurt I feel when people aren't honest with me. I felt ashamed.  I never intentionally meant to be dishonest with my husband (or anyone) but shielding my feelings and struggles was being totally dishonest. 

The drive home was quiet. Guilt washed over me. I am very sorry to those who I haven't been honest with. But also a new resolve to be more open and HONEST about my feelings filled my heart. Knowing old habits die hard, my therapist helped me plan ahead. Next time Stephen asks me what's wrong - I will either answer honestly OR I will admit that I'm not sure but I will think/write about it and get back to him. If he senses something isn't right, and I tell him I'm fine, he will ask "And is the lamp green?"  Then I will remember that no matter how much I insist the lamp is green, it will always be blue. And everyone can plainly see that.  Honesty is after all, the best policy. 

The Scariest Thing in Life

I'm not a fan of scary things. I don't like haunted houses.  I don't like horror movies. I don't even like my kids to jump out from around the corner and yell "Boo!"  I'm a huge scaredy-cat. But this week I've learned the scariest thing in life.  Worded perfectly by the young pop star, Demi Lavato, "One of the most scariest things in life, is when you come to the realization that the only thing that can save you is yourself." 

I've been struggling pretty bad with my eating disorder (ED) for several weeks. That's the hard part of recovery...some days are awesome and easy and sometimes things are really hard and horrible. These past several weeks have been the later. Most of that time was spent knowing I was slipping but keeping it to myself. I feel ashamed, embarrassed, and guilty when I feel ED pushing back into my life. I debated talking to my therapist about what was going on at our well timed appointment last week. But the weight of it was hanging visibly on my shoulders and she knew something was up. Weeks of internal turmoil and struggle poured out with the smallest amount of questioning. It was one of the most difficult sessions I've had. But still, I left feeling unwilling to change and honestly, I still felt alone. 

ED thrives on isolation. Loneliness is one of my biggest fears. So ED uses that and convinces me that with my eating disorder I'll never be alone. Ironically, that is when I feel most alone. Luckily, I have amazingly supportive family and friends. I know I'm not easy to deal with when I have ED in my mind. Despite this, I have this great support team that checks in on me, reassures me, gives it to me straight, and encourages me. These are not trained ED specialist or therapist. But nearly all of them have taken time to learn about and educate themselves about my disorder and what it's all about. This makes me feel like despite my problems, they do love me. I'd like to say all this fantastic support is enough, but if I'm honest, it isn't. 

One night this week, I reached out to my therapist. I was still struggling. My mind was saying, "Restrict!  Restrict!  It's comforting. It's what you want!  Your therapy has taught you to stand up for yourself, so stand up for restricting.  It's what you want!"  But a little piece of my heart was not fooled by this train of thought. I contacted my therapist. Her response was a reminder of tools I could use to fix the situation. But instead of jumping right to work with the suggested tools I became mad, frustrated, and actually pretty angry. My thought was, I asked for help and she gives me more work. I flat out told her I couldn't do it. She recommended different tools and once again I was angry. I threw in the towel that night. 

The next day I was still very unsettled. Although my mind was convinced restricting is what I wanted, I couldn't sit with that. I contact a friend who also has struggled with eating disorders. I told her, "In therapy I learn to stand up for myself. Now what I want is to restrict. Of course no one else thinks that's a good idea. I'm just torn. Do I keep doing what I want or do I once again do what pleases everyone else. Is this really what I want or is ED using therapy against me."  I knew she would understand and I didn't want more tools or suggestions for fixing things. Her reply was honest and made me stop and think.  "When the eating disorder starts making us think that its orders are 'what we really want'....that's when I think it gets dangerous. I think you probably agree, because underneath your words I think *you* are scared (I starred "you" because it's the you underneath, not your eating disorder, that's scared. The ED gets scared when you go against it). I think...you're scared to go against it. I think that the most important thing right now is to ask yourself some questions. Why do you think you are *wanting* your eating disorder so much right now?  Wanting to restrict, wanting to listen to your eating disorder....cause no, I don't believe that's you, Rosalind, who truly wants to restrict. I think the ED wants you to think that, and yes, is using therapy and recovery against you."

Yes I am scared. And I think that little part of my heart that keeps reaching out is the part that knows this restrictive behavior isn't ok. It's the part that recognizes the eating disorder and knows it has no place in a happy, healthy me. But I also think I'm scared because despite my great supportive and loving family and friends, I am the "only thing that can save myself"!  Admitting that here, now, it scares me. I lack a strong faith in myself. I doubt my strength and commitment to fight my way through this. Yes, I am scared.  And I'm not a fan of scary things. 

The Recovery Roller Coaster

My favorite roller coaster of all times is Rockin' Roller Coaster at DisneyWorld. But I'm actually not too picky when it comes to roller coasters...as long as they don't go backwards!  (That always makes me sick!) I love the ups and downs!  Nothing is more climatic than the "clink clink clink" of the motor chain pulling you up a big steep hill.  I love the adrenaline rush of the free falling feeling of a big drop. But there is one roller coaster ride that really causes me frustration...the recovery roller coaster. 

Recovery can feel like climbing (or more like clawing) your way out of a pit. There is no chain or rope or motor pulling you out and up.  You learn some tools and you fight and work for every inch. But, just like a roller coaster when you get to a high point, it's usually followed by a twisty drop. These drops don't come with breath taking adrenaline rushes. These drops come with frustration, anxiety, and exhaustion.  (And then you are left working to get back up top again!)

Over the past couple weeks I've been evaluating my annual progress. I sat down with my therapist and shared with her my list of all that I had learned from her in the last year. Then I shared with her the things I still wanted to work on. We had a great session and talked about ways I can conquer the problems I still face. As I left her office, I was feeling happy, strong, in control, and riding high above the deep dark pit of my eating disorder.  I know that often highs can be followed by lows but it still always seems to sneak up on me!  

So, by the next day I wasn't feeling so happy, strong, or in control any more. All day long, I was distracted and had a hard time concentrating. I felt down and blue.  Then came the symptoms of anxiety. My stomach started to feel nervous. My heart beats faster. My chest and shoulders and arms feel tight. And next thing you know I start to panic because I'm panicking. I hate feeling this way. ED totally takes advantage during the time I'm feeling down.  I long for the "comfort" I get from restricting what I eat. Worst of all, ED starts in on my imperfections and flaws and also starts getting bossy. 

So a few days were not pleasant or fun. It was discouraging, exhausting, and depressing. However, I did what I had been taught to do. I reached out for help. I still have to do the work to pull myself back up all by myself.  The thing is, help means I'm not alone. Help means moral support.  Also (and most importantly), I fought back. I woke up after a feeling so down and decided that day was going to be better. I'm not going to lie and say it was perfect smooth fun carnival ride after that decision. I still had ED in my head. I still had to make very deliberate choices to eat. I still had to work through some anxiety.  But I dusted myself off and started back up to the top of the recovery roller coaster. I know I can't ride at the highest peaks forever.  However, when I come down those drops, I can continue to work hard to get back on top!

All I really need to know about recovery I learned from Landry

When I was in high school a very popular book was published called "All I Really need to know I learned in Kindergarten". It was a huge success and spun off several copycat books and poems. Here's my version!

"All I Really Need to Know About Recovery I Learned from Landry"

Landry is the second therapist I worked with on my journey to overcome my eating disorder. My first therapist taught me a lot about eating disorders and helped me learn to trust in sharing my struggles with a therapist.   I also learned a few tricks and tools.  However, after working with her for only five short months, my family moved half way across the country and for eight hectic, crazy months I tried my best to deal with my challenges with out a therapist. It was too much and I completely hit rock bottom. It was a scary time. I decided to give up on recovery. 

Thank goodness for family and friends who all but pushed me into the capable hands of Landry at the Eating Disorder Recovery Center of San Antonio.  Our first meeting she taught me my first important lesson. After honestly telling her I no longer had a desire to work toward recovery, Landry matter of factly told me there was not much she could do to help me, if I didn't want help. She also reminded me of the reasons why recovery was worth it. I was in such a grim place but that one session shed the slightest sliver of light in my darkened mind and allowed the smallest prickle of hope to touch my heart. It also made a huge changed in my thoughts about recovery. It made me realize that no matter which therapist I worked with, no matter what challenges I faced, no matter how much I turned to others for help, no matter how much my family and friends loved me and worried, recovery is on ME!  It is my choice, it is my job!

So I took Landry's challenge and I decided to work.  Work is exactly what we did. Most of our beginning sessions were more like classes. Landry taught me all about dialectic behavior therapy (DBT). (I joking told my husband it was diabolical behavior therapy!)  After sharing certain struggles I had encountered during the week, Landry would be prepared with tools and tricks to overcome them. With dry erase marker in hand, she'd explain to me on her little white board how I could use these tools. Some sessions I'd leave and think, there is no way I can remember all that!  But each week I'd find myself remembering portions that I'd try hard to apply when I hit rough patches.  The tools worked!

Despite all this training, some challenges still completely overwhelmed me.  Landry wasn't just there for me during my once a week session. She encouraged me to call or text her ANYTIME I needed her. It took me a while to feel comfortable doing this. I felt guilty for contacting her, especially during times I knew she wasn't at the office. But the few times I've reached out to her, when I really felt helpless, she would reassure me and remind me of a tool to use to take care of the issue.  She never solved my problem, but helped me remember how to fix it myself.  Knowing she will always be there has given me the courage to be a bit more daring, to try new things or hard things.  I know if I fail or get anxious, she's just a text or call away with reassurance and helpful tools to fix the problem. 

As I have progressed in my use of the many tools Landry taught me, our sessions became less of a classroom environment and more of a "heart to heart". Although Landry still teaches me something new every time, our sessions build me up with determination and confidence. It's been during these "heart to heart" meetings that Landry has instilled in me one of my most valuable tools...to wonder. When I tell her about challenges I'm working on, at some point in our discussion she almost always says something like "I think you can just wonder why you are having those thoughts."  It's funny that such a little thing like "wondering" would become such a big step in my recovery. Instead of getting all worked up and beating myself up over eating disordered thoughts, I've learned to think about why I'm thinking those thoughts without judging them or myself and then just letting them go. My thoughts are not me!  My thoughts do not mean I have to act on them. Usually I can figure out why I'm thinking those thoughts and then address that with a tool Landry taught me about. 

As I get ready to turn another page of the calendar, I proudly look back at my year with Landry.  I only see her once a month now.  However, I leave her office with renewed trust and faith in my ability to recover. Recover!  RECOVER!  I honestly never thought it was something attainable.  She's taught me "all I really need to know about recovery".  AND more importantly, she's taught me to have confidence in myself.  Thank you Landry. 

Am I recovered?

There was a hopeless period in my struggle with an eating disorder when I felt like recovery was not possible. I honestly felt like there was no way I would ever stop having disordered thoughts. I would read about recovery, listen to people talk about their recovery, but never believed it was something that could happen to me. Even saying the word "recovery" felt bitter and false in my mouth. 

But something exciting and hopeful has happened in the last several months!  I find myself thinking about recovery as something I'm actually working on and climbing into. After my last therapy session I walked out of the building and all the sudden had the strongest urge to shout out for the world to hear, "I'M RECOVERING!"  Since I've been well trained by my amazing therapist to think and wonder about my thoughts, I realized the dramatic paradigm change and decided I should investigate. 

After lots of pondering on this topic I realized I completely changed my thinking on what recovery "looks" like. When I first started working on beating my eating disorder I thought recovery was never having another disordered thought about eating...never, ever again! So anytime I'd have those thoughts I would become discouraged and frustrated with myself. It was like three steps forward, two steps back. Progress was being made but I was so disheartened.  After realizing this, my therapist taught me that my thoughts are not me and I don't have to act on them. She told me that when she sees big stacked displays at the grocery store she always thinks about knocking them over, but that doesn't mean she does it. (Which painted such a funny picture in my mind of my sweet calm therapist running through a store like a one man demolition team destroying the huge towering displays of boxed soda or paper towels.  The visual still makes me smile!) 

That's when I knew that my thoughts might never change. Eating might always cause certain feelings, anxiety, and disordered thoughts...under certain circumstances. However, I could learn to deal with those thoughts without giving into them.  This was easier to understand than to accept. For many weeks I feel like I mourned the demise of my unrealistic view of what recovery was. I felt overwhelmed by the thought of having the eating disorder in my head for the rest of my life. But slowly a new picture of recovery was coming into focus in my mind. 

And then, another big change happened. One day I realized I had not thought about my eating disorder in a long time.  Maybe it had even been a whole week!  The thing about an eating disorder is it completely takes over your brain. It's 24/7 on your mind. At my worst it was almost debilitating. I literally had so little room for other thoughts in my mind that I felt like a recluse, although I was surrounded by people. As I worked on overcoming my eating disorder my mind vastly opened up, but IT was still there occupying it's little corner of my mind. Lately, I guess my eating disorder has been taking vacations. (That's fine by me!) I notice more frequent periods of time when I don't think about it. This has given me a new prospect on what recovery feels like. 

The final difference in my view on recovery is actually a huge change in my thinking about everything. Another trick eating disorders play on your mind is it makes you color blind. Everything is black and white. You are fat or you are skinny. You are pigging out or you are eating nothing. You are weighing every day or you can't weigh at all. You eat one or you eat all. You are the happiest you've ever been or you are in the depths of despair.  You are worth it or you are worthless. You are loved or you are hated. You have lots of support or you are completely alone. I could go on. Black and white thinking is dangerous. It's another trap eating disorders use to keep you from recovery. However, as I worked with my therapist and as I did the work to take back control of my mind I started seeing colors again.  All the sudden my black and white thinking about recovery was being challenged. Either you never have another disordered thought again (recovered) or you can only think disordered thoughts (not recovered).  I realized the fallacy in that thought. I saw some purple where I might still struggle with social eating but still go out to eat with friends. I saw some red where I am having a stressful day but still take care of my nutritional needs. I see some green when I listen to my body and feed it when it's hungry and stop when it's full. The whole rainbow of colors is there!

I used to avoid the word recovery. Now, I find it often bouncing around in my mind. I find it more on the tip of my tongue and it tastes a lot sweeter now.  I shared with my mentor about my changes in my thoughts on recovery and her response really rang true to me. "I have come to know that recovery is nothing tangible - it’s a process of growth, transformation, and self discovery. We can’t articulate it for anybody else and we only know what it means to us through our own unique felt sense of moving through it."  I'm grateful for my new, hard earned understanding. I'm extra grateful to feel like I'm now on the path of recovery.  Am I recovered?  Finished?  Done?  No, and I'm ok with that.  I'm still working, learning, and progressing.  I don't think I ever want to stop moving forward. I'm not recovered...I'm recovering. And it feels great!

Cotton & Sandpaper

Monday evenings are reserved as a family night that we call Family Home Evening (FHE). On this night we might have a spiritual  lesson, or focus on something we can improve on as a family, or just do something fun together.  I'm always looking for great ideas that I feel will help our family grow closer and be better people.  I just happened across an idea that I knew I needed to share with my family. I collected supplies and was so excited for the lesson. 

My three kids range in ages from 8 to 13. They are pretty good kids, but as a family we can improve with how we talk to each other. So this  particular night for FHE, I focused on that. I gave each person a cotton ball. I asked them to rub it on their cheek and describe how it felt. "Soft" and its many synonyms were listed!  Then I gave them a little square of sandpaper. I asked them to rub it on their cheek and describe how it felt. Rough was the first word they all thought of. I then told them our words are either like cotton or sandpaper.  Then we brainstormed words that are soft cotton ball words and words that are harsh sandpaper words. They really got it. We each made a card to put somewhere as a daily reminder to help us remember to use cotton ball words with each other.  Although this was several weeks ago, my children still are reminding family members to use cotton ball words!  

I was pretty pleased with the lesson. However, in an off moment I caught myself using sandpaper words with myself. That's one aspect of eating disorders that is so hard to over-come...the negative self talk. I think I've always been hard on myself, but once ED took over, it got completely vicious. But, after our FHE lesson, I started being more aware of my internal self communication. I noticed I used a plethora of sandpaper words and started working hard to soften the way I thought about myself. It's a work in progress and there are still sandpaper moments, but I'm working.  

Proverbs 16:24 says, "pleasant words are as an honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones". This is true with friends, family, and with how we think and communicate internally with ourselves. So throw out those sandpaper words and fill the world with cotton ball words!  It will truly be "sweet to the soul"!  

Recovery Honeymoon

The past month has been a great month for me regarding recovery. I've gone long periods of time with out even thinking about having an eating disorder. I realized that I completely stopped following one of ED's rules after not doing it for three weeks. I just didn't do it one day! No planning, no thought, NO ANXIETY!  (I also didn't even realize how significant an event this was for over two weeks!) For the first time, I'm thinking recovery is really possible and I can totally do this!  

This doesn't mean smooth sailing, and I'm actually ok about that.  It's life!  Tragic national headlines this month kind of hit me like a punch in the gut. I felt very sad and overwhelmed. But I reached out and asked my therapist for help. And of course, she gave me great advice and encouragement.  I made adjustments and kept on rolling!

I've been thinking a lot about where I am in recovery. I've decided to call this stage the "honeymoon" stage of recovery. Just like a newly married couple, each life event, holiday, and experience is "new". (Let me tell you, my first college football season as a new bride was a real eye opener!)  Recovery is the same way!  Experiencing life with out an eating disorder is a learning experience. First family reunion...first summer vacation...first Christmas.  Sometimes these events don't even slow me down. But if I do hit any bumps I'm getting good at asking for help and support.  

As I left my monthly visit with my therapist today, I was feeling so great!  Fighting ED has been the hardest thing I've ever done. I am proud of the hard work I've done to get to this point. I felt like shouting out loud!  "I'm recovering!!!!"  But since it's the "honeymoon" stage, maybe I should decorate my car with tin cans dragging behind, and big painted letters on the back that say "just recovered!", and hearts on all my windows!  I think recovery and I have a long promising future together!  

I HATE FOOD!

It is still amazing to me how ED (eating disorder) finds the perfect time to jump in my head. I had an interesting successful use of my recovery tools today. 

My son started out yesterday with a headache before school. I brought him home to try and sleep it off so he could maybe still go to field day. It kept getting worse and worse. He started throwing up. By 4:30 I was really worried. He was in excruciating pain. I took him to a med clinic and waited over two hours to be seen. They never gave him any thing for pain. They tested his urine and said he was dehydrated and had high levels of ketones. The doc told me he wasn't eating enough - so his body was breaking down fat causing the ketones in his urine. They said I should go home and hydrate him. When I asked about an IV they said, "Well we can try to get an IV in him but if we can take him to the ER."  This was over three hours after I walked into the clinic and nothing had been done. I was not happy with the care he was receiving and I was trying to be assertive. But I was also alone with a sick kid. I finally had enough and told them we were just leaving. Then my husband showed up. We were going to take him to the ER. But he begged us to just take him home. I stayed up all night keeping medicine in him and encouraging him to drink. (They did give him ZOFRAN for nausea at the clinic and so he was finally able to keep stuff down.)  I took him to his doctor this morning. They ordered a series of blood work but one of them had to be done fasting so I will take him in the morning so he only has to be stuck once. They want to check on his blood sugar levels. We will know next week what those tests tell us. 

So, where was ED and when did I use tools?  Well after we left the lab today I kept hearing the doctor from last night saying over and over in my mind "He's not eating enough!"  I started to feel very anxious and question if I was feeding him enough. I started to feel very guilty and then I started to think about how much I hate food. I was totally full of loathing for food!  I was so angry at myself. I felt like I was a horrible parent. All my effort to teach my children to be healthy eaters was wrong. I was obviously starving them. Then all the sudden I heard my therapists voice. "I wonder why you are thinking this?"  So I did a little evaluation and of course I realized I was very tired from lack of sleep last night and a stressful day yesterday.  ED - that sneaky villain!  I had even thought about skipping meals and everything today. I hated food!  I was so mad at food and at myself. But after I was able to wonder why I was having disordered thoughts and finding a reason for them, I committed to eat healthy and not skip any meals.  I also reached out for help and talked to my mom. She assured me my son is a good eater and that I was not doing anything wrong in regards to the food I prepare for my kids. I'm still tired but I'm very proud I was able to stop myself from the extreme thinking and to understand why I was struggling with disordered thoughts.  Sorry I hated you food!

The Noose Around My Neck

Things have been going really well.  I've felt strong, healthy, and making good progress. After a great week of family vacation, I met with my therapist for my monthly appointment. My one concern that I wanted to discuss is that spring and summer are just around the corner.  The last two years, these weren't good times for me AT ALL!  So I expressed this to my therapist. She validated my concern but then basically told me I need to trust myself more and not panic every time I sense disordered thoughts about eating on the horizon.  She reminded me AGAIN of how far I've come and how much more I know now. Then she said "recovery doesn't mean never having eating disordered thoughts it means never doing what those thoughts tell you."  She called this radical abstinence. 

Cue anxiety!  Literally right there in her office, I felt my heart stop and my breathing tightened. NEVER GIVE INTO ANOTHER DISORDERED THOUGHT ABOUT EATING?!?!  NEVER?  Don't get me wrong. I don't want to go back to where I was. Honestly though, I just felt like I could keep my eating disorder in my back pocket. You know, just in case I need it.  When asked what I would need it for I wasn't  exactly sure. I guess I feel like I might need it in case something comes up and I can't handle it with out my eating disorder. 

The more I thought about giving it up...taking it out of my pocket and throwing it away for good...the more anxious and emotional I became. I know this doesn't make sense.  So I kept trying to think of how I could explain it to others. 

An eating disorder is like a rope. When the hike through life's mountains gets rough and tough I hold on tight to the rope. No matter what, if I hold on to the rope I can't fall down the mountainside!  The rope keeps me from crashing into the rocks below. But there is a catch - the end of the rope is tied around my neck in a noose. So the rope helps me survive as long as I'm holding on to it but also has the potential to kill me if I get tired or lose control of my grip on the rope.  I'm pretty fond of my rope - not the noose part of course. I am really scared to let it go and not use it. It's helped me at times when I felt I had nothing else available. However, now I have other tools (things I've learned in therapy) available. I'm not really great at using them, and most of them are untested in a big crisis. Even if these tools don't work, I've learned that I also have a safety net (family and friends who love me) below. But my rope is always right here.  I know how to use it.  It's familiar.  It's comforting.  It is close...albeit too close. 

So this is where I'm at. I think the reason I get so anxious about any sign of eating disordered thoughts is because I know I'm keeping my eating disorder in my back pocket. I haven't thrown out the rope...I'm letting it dangle just within reach. Because of this, these thoughts aren't just passing through my mind. They are still very convenient to use.  

I know what I should do. I know what I need to do. None of this knowledge changes the fact that I've grown comfortable with my rope and am scared to give it up. This one is going to take some time, some thought, some discomfort, some prayer, and a big huge dose of faith. 

LOVE - perfectly imperfect and an 80's Whitney Houston classic

The last several weeks I've been thinking about love quite a bit.  (And not just because it was just Valentine's Day!)  The reason it's been on my mind is because I feel like I'm at a point in my progression in overcoming my eating disorder that I need to address a hard issue that I've been putting off for a while. As I was talking to my therapist about being authentic and kindly accepting my imperfections the topic of self-compassion came up. 

It's important that I interject a bit of my history at this point. I was raised in a very kind and loving family. I never doubted my parents love for me. Sure, I got in trouble sometimes, but discipline was always followed with an out pouring of love. Still to this day I count my parents love for me as one of my greatest pillars of strength.  I was also raised in a very religious home. I bet I can count the number of Sunday's I missed church in my childhood on one hand!  I'm grateful for my spiritual education of a kind loving Heavenly Father, and of an equally loving and self sacrificing Savior, Jesus Christ. 

Despite all this love - somewhere along the way I started to feel flawed and very unworthy of it all. My self image tumbled to some pretty low lows. I became caught up in personal perfectionism. I began to hold myself up to unrealistic expectations in areas of my life. I wasn't an over achiever, I was a self loather. Working hard to achieve a goal can get you places. Self loathing only holds you back. 

So once I went out into the big wide world (AKA - college)  I started to really struggle. Although my family still loved me and I still was attending church, I began to believe the hateful perfectionist voice in my head. That is when I first began to experience serious disordered thoughts about my body, food, and eating. 

Now, more than 20 years later, I am successfully learning to battle those disorders thoughts!  But some things are hard for me to understand. How do you show self-compassion?  As I was talking with my therapist I asked her, "How do you love yourself?"  Her response was simple yet  a huge awakening to me. She said, that my self-talk should be the same as how I talk to my friends and loved ones.  Makes logical sense, but is a bit harder to implement. For example, if a friend said "I think I gained ten pounds on vacation!"  I'd say, "No! You look great!  Maybe you just need to move around a bit and you'll feel better.  Let's go walking every morning this week!"  But, if in my mind I think to myself, "My clothes are all tight,have I gained weight?" My self reply is not very gentle, "You are a fat slob! Why don't you have more control. Get your lazy butt up and exercise until you look as thin as a model!  I'm sick of looking at this image in the mirror!  That's it!  No more eating for you till you learn to control pig like urges!" I would never in a million years talk to a friend or family member like that!  

That brings me back to my past few weeks contemplating love. What is love?  How do I show love?  How do I feel loved?  Why should I love myself?  What is the greatest love of all?  That last question is easy...I'm a child of the 80's and Whitney Houston answered that question. 

"Because the greatest love of all

Is happening to me

I found the greatest love of all

Inside of me"

Self-compassion isn't an easy thing for me. I am my worst critic.  However, I'm trying to take it one step at a time. I'm trying to practice "the greatest love of all".  I'm trying to be gentle with myself, even when I miss opportunities to practice self-compassion. I'm trying to learn from my mistakes in that regard as well.  Christopher Germer said, "A moment of self-compassion can change your entire day.  A string of such moments can change the course of your life."  That is my goal; to practice self-compassion in the moment, and collecting those moments to change my life!  

Singing it Whitney!

"Learning to love yourself

It is the greatest love of all"

Excuse me! Who am I?

"The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself," Anna Quindlen

One of the hardest things for me to confront in my journey to recover from anorexia is realizing that I don't really know who I am.  I am so busy trying to be this person I imagine everyone wants me to be, that I've lost myself along the way. 

So, how's this working out for me?  Not great!  

I discussed this issue with my therapist. I not only want to be the true authentic me, but I also want to like me. (Another topic for another post!)  Even typing those words feels uncomfortable. It seems narcissistic to be thinking so much about me. It's not like I have a shortage of other people to think about and take care of!  However, I can see the importance of being authentic and loving me. 

Being authentic means, I am me, warts and all. I embrace the good,bad, and ugly. But I never spend too much time worrying or fretting about each of those. I am ok with not being perfect.  I believe I am good enough to belong and don't present a façade of perfection.  I stop being the "people pleaser".  

Being authentic is scary.  I told my therapist I was scared how my family would perceive me.  They might like the "other" me better. She told me that not being authentic can lead to so many problems...eating disorders, anxiety, resentment, blame, depression. I knew then that I had to make fixing this a priority. 

I'm not sure how well I'm doing. But I am thinking about it. I try to hesitate before I respond to questions asking me my opinion. I try to keep things real and not let Polly Perfection take over.  I'm listening to my body and stoping when I'm tired or done. I'm saying no when I can't do something instead of saying yes.  Changing the way I've been for as long as I can remember is hard, but not impossible.  

I'd like to introduce you to myself. My name is Rosalind.  I'm NOT perfect, but I'm an OK person.  

Skeleton in the Closet - It's time to tell my daughter

After opening up about my struggle with an eating disorder on this blog I have felt so much freedom. It has been very therapeutic and any comments from friends and family have been supportive. Over all it's been a positive experience. There is one place that my eating disorder is still hidden like a skeleton in a closet. There is still one place that I have to guard what I say. There is still one place where I'm a closed book. That place is my home. My husband knows what is going on and has been supportive. However, my children do not know. I'm sure they suspect something. For two summers in a row I've left once a week for a mystery "appointment". When I'm in the clutches of the eating disorder I'm distracted, aloof, impatient, unpredictable, and unhappy. Just because they are children doesn't mean they are oblivious. Despite what they have observed, I've never come right out and told them, "I have an eating disorder."  But lately I've been thinking a lot about telling my oldest. This is a big deal!

I still really struggle with feeling like I should just stop having an eating disorder. I've read lots of literature, I know it's not something you choose to have or not have. It's a disease.  But I still struggle with feeling like I should be strong enough and in control enough to just stop.  These thoughts bring lots of frustration self-doubt and discouragement. Part of the reason I've always been afraid to talk to my kids about my eating disorder is I've been afraid that they will "choose" to have an eating disorder since I have one. I worry that me telling them will give them an excuse to give into disordered eating behaviors. As I slowly change my beliefs I am realizing one doesn't choose to have an eating disorder. By telling my children, I will not be starting or stoping the chance of them having an eating disorder.  

In all actuality, genetics play a pretty significant role in eating disorders. That is something I can't change or control.  But if I am brave enough to pull down my barrier and share my struggles and pain (as well as my hard work and progress) with my children, then maybe it will open up the doors of communication. I wouldn't wish an eating disorder on my worst enemy. The thought of any of my children struggling with one actually makes me feel panicked and physically sick. I can not bury my head in the sand though. I have to make sure communication about this serious illness is open in my family.  I have to be prepared to help my children fight should this demon come looking for them.   

So, it's time to take this big step. It's scary and vulnerable. However, I feel like it is ultimately in the best interest of my children's future well being. And for them, I'd do anything.  It's time to talk about it and say out loud in my home, "I have an eating disorder."