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.