The One Question to Ask Yourself Every Morning

Photo Credit: Evan Kirby

In the early morning hours, before darkness lifts and the pace picks up, I tip toe downstairs, shower, and quietly prepare for the day. I love this time before my husband and children wake and my various responsibilities kick in. I can hear my thoughts, my breath, and the stillness.

I dress and approach the mirror. I stand before it, meet my eyes, and instead of asking who is the fairest of them all, I ask: Who do you want to show up as today?

For years and years, I stood before the mirror frantically checking my body. Do I look anorexic enough? Do I look sick enough from the side, front, and back? Of course, the answer was always no, and in an instant, the calm morning hours turned day into a raging hell. Can you relate?

That single moment in front of the mirror determined my attitude for the entire day. And because of that, recovery felt like a big fat inconvenience. An uphill battle. A never ending source of agony. I was always on the defensive, running against the natural flow of life for the sake of a measly moment in the mirror.

I’m 22 years into my healing path now, and I’ve given myself permission to play offense instead of defense. It’s taken time and many leaps of faith to test what would happen if I asked myself a different question in front of the mirror, one that celebrates instead of berates, empowers instead of belittles, raises up versus ridicules.

The idea of asking myself questions that weren’t traps for misery came from learning about the philosophical concept in yoga called the koshas. The idea is that we are all made of five layers: body, breath, mind (emotions), intellect, and spirit. In my experience, recovery is so heavily focused on food and feeding our bodies (because it has to be!) that we often don’t pause and notice how we are feeding our minds. You and I both know how difficult it is to get a grip on spinning eating disorder beliefs, thoughts, and rules! Gruelingly hard work, yes?

The reality I had to face was that unless I started feeding my mind different questions about myself, I would never have an opportunity to respond differently or feel happier or believe I was more than an eating disorder. My experience of life would forever be dictated by a mirror.

Little by little, I started asking different questions, the most pivotal one being: Who do you want to show up as today? I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that sometimes my answer to that question is related to body size. The difference now, though, is that I don’t allow that thought to stick. I consciously choose to ask myself the question again until the answer that comes is one that feeds my mind with positivity so that I start my day with an attitude of “Look out world, I am ready for you!”

So, I ask you: Who do you want to show up as today? How can you begin to feed your mind differently so that you have the opportunity to create new thoughts about yourself, your body, and your place in your world, in this world?

If you are unsure, just start with one simple question similar to what I ask myself, and don’t let yourself off the hook until your answer is about who you are at your core. We all deserve to draw out these beautiful parts of ourselves, and it begins with feeding our minds new words and thoughts about our whole sense of self.

Jennifer Kreatsoulas, PhD, RYT 500 is a yoga teacher and yoga therapist specializing in eating disorders and body image. In recovery herself, Jennifer is extremely passionate about helping others reconnect with their bodies and be empowered in their lives. She also teaches yoga at the Monte Nido Eating Disorder Center of Philadelphia and is a partner with the Yoga and Body Image Coalition. She leads trauma-sensitive yoga classes and teaches weekly flow yoga classes. Jennifer contributes regularly to several eating disorder and body image blogs and the YogaLiving Magazine. Connect with Jennifer.

Please Don’t Ask Me How Long This Will Take

Image Credit: KijaDoll

An open letter to our Supporters,

We had the fight again — the one that happens when our heroic patience finally deflates, and our frustration comes hissing out until it permeates through the house. You want to know: How long is this going to take? How long are we going to suffer like this?

You are tired. You are trying your hardest and we are draining our resources, but nothing seems to do the trick. You don’t know if there is ever a “right thing” to say. Most of the time, you feel like you’re walking on eggshells, afraid that your well-intended comment is going to trigger some irrational fear or anxiety — or worse — in me.

You’ve tried reasoning with me, but you found out quickly that an eating disorder has its own logic and thus it doesn’t respond to reason. You try to put yourself in my shoes, hoping that empathy might translate to energy and keep us both going. It’s impossible to understand, though. How could I struggle, you wonder, with something so basic as eating, something we’re literally born knowing how to do? How long will it take to just click?

You want to know when are things going to get better — when am I going to better?

You’re frustrated. I understand. Your feelings are justified. (And even if they weren’t, you would still have a right to feel however you do. Lord knows that is what I’m trying to believe for myself.)

But please don’t forget: I feel the same way that you do. By the time you finally lose it and tell me how frustrated, exhausted, exasperated, and scared you are, I’ve already said those things to myself. (Several times. Just that day.)

We have a common enemy in this. It hurts me just as badly to live with this monster as it does for you to watch it wreak havoc on me. I want it gone, too, and I’m trying my hardest to make this stop. So please, whatever you do, don’t ask me how long will this take.

Because I don’t know.

I don’t know.

I.  DON’T.  KNOW.

Surely you know that if I could simply erase this illness and leave no trace of it, I would do it. No disordered thoughts, no temptations, no lapses whatsoever. No more therapy appointments congesting my calendar. No more signing up for school and then dropping out because I’m still “not well enough.” No more quibbling with this or that doctor just to cling to a semblance of autonomy over my health.

Free from the embarrassment of inching down grocery aisles trying to choose between the “right” foods and the “safe” ones. From the dread I feel when I see a tray of cookies at the staff meeting. From the anxiety that wakes up each morning as I think about another day of fighting the voices, of struggling to find that mysterious balance between forgiving myself and pushing myself. From the unrelenting sense that I must be either insane or heartless for putting us through this.

All of it, just gone. I would do almost anything for that gift.

But I can’t. And so, when you ask me how long this recovery is going take, what I hear in that question is confirmation of my deepest fear: I am a burden. You are as fed up with me as I am.

It’s not that I want you to hide your fear or sadness, or even your anger (at my eating disorder — not at me). I need to know your feelings because I need to be reminded that my life isn’t the only one at stake here. That’s critical, because in the moments when I can’t find it in me to recover for my own sake, I can do it for you.

I guess what I’m saying is that I’m not trying to be stubborn. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m just trying to get through this.

Thank you for your support, your loyalty, and your faith in me,
Your Loved One

Joanna Kay is a New York City writer and social media professional in recovery from a 14-year battle with anorexia. She is the author of The Middle Ground, a blog that chronicles the period between completing treatment and reaching full recovery. Having encountered many hurdles accessing treatment, she also writes frequently about insurance coverage and other urgent issues facing eating disorder patients. Joanna is a mental health advocate with the National Eating Disorders Association and writes and speaks widely about the recovery process. Visit her blog.

Recovered: a Poem About Being Reunited With Soul, Self, and Sisterhood

Photo Credit: ©Angie Viets

Out of control.
Tethered to terror.
Everything that once was is no longer.

Sad, scared, deeply ashamed.
Desperate to hold onto something real.
Something to comfort and soothe.
Someone. Something. Anything.

Please help me escape this pain.
The not knowing.
The never-ending loneliness.
The deep, hollow feeling in my stomach.  

Alone. Unsure. Unsafe.
I turned in circles trying to grasp onto
something more solid than myself.
And then you came.
Rescuing me from…me.

The perfect antidote to my suffering.
Your predictability, reliability, and steady
presence tricked me into thinking I’d
found just the right place to rest.
You offered the gift of security in
my broken, battered world.

You occupied my every thought.
I could forget all the hurt
and perpetual sadness.
I had you, my ever-loyal companion.

The day marked forever in my mind.
The day I realized I was trapped by you.
Suffocating. Silent.
Utterly consumed and confined.

No matter how hard I tried to escape
the prison you so carefully locked me in,
I got more lost and less found.
Defeated and depressed.

I came to you for a safe place to hide
from myself and my broken heart.
You gave me just what I needed.
Or so it seemed.

I guess that’s what makes the goodbye so hard.
But I’m picking myself up now.
I’m determined, yet unsure of the way.
I can’t go back to where I left off.
Just forward towards what will be.

My mind unable to find the way;
I close my eyes and allow my soul
to guide and illuminate the path ahead.

Despite the harm you inflicted,
the damage you did to my body and spirit,
I still want to thank you.
I bow to you in deep reverence.
Somehow you got me through the wreckage.

But I’m saying goodbye now.
This goodbye is not temporary;
you are no longer welcome in my sacred self.

I assume you will try to return;
attempting to lure me in with false promises.
Yet I assure you I’m wise to your ways now,
and I will gently shut and lock the door.

Eventually you’ll give up on me.
Preying and prying your way into another unsuspecting soul.
They too will come to know you by name
and eventually usher you out as well.

My silent prayer,
my hope, my wish,
is that someday you’ll give up entirely.
You’ll see that we now rely on each other;
this tribe of us once lost now found
United. Mended. And completely whole.

Collectively we are saying goodbye.
Hands and hearts entwined.
We are rising together.
Softer and stronger.
Wise and awakened.
Fully, completely, alive.

To our beloved sisters unsaved,
we honor you.
We acknowledge your bravery and courage
to fight, what often seemed impossible.
We carry you with us.
We shine your light.
We remember you.
Always. Forever.

What an Eating Disorder in Recovery Sounds Like

Photo Credit: Ravi Roshan

Wait… You’re not over that eating disorder yet?

During National Eating Disorders Awareness Week (NEDAwareness), I did a fair amount of preaching to the choir about early intervention. Presumably, some of it reached the general public, but since the overwhelming majority of my followers — if not all of them — are people who have been affected in some way by eating disorders, most weren’t new to this conversation.

That’s not a bad thing. This population needs education and awareness, too. However, a somewhat jarring conversation at work toward the end of NEDAwareness Week alerted me to the fact that I am very selective about when and where I divulge my eating disorder story. Perhaps I spend a little too much time with the choir instead of the rest of the congregation.

Basically, my immediate coworkers were discussing how guilty they felt about eating the pizza lunch we were surprised with that day and how much extra time they’d need to spend in the gym for it. Soon after that, another person made a comment directly to me about skipping the meal.

The conversation was neither atypical nor all that problematic. I probably took note of it only because 1) I have spidey-senses when it comes to these things, and 2) I was totally immersed in eating disorder chatter that week. To my knowledge, none of my coworkers struggle with eating disorders, so it’s unlikely that comments of that ilk will send them into downward spirals of self-loathing and self-abuse.

However, hearing it, being included in it, and then keeping quiet made me realize that despite my efforts to be an advocate and activist for all-things-mental-health, I have a selectivity problem:

It’s easy to talk about eating disorders and recovery with fellow sufferers/activists or when I’m in their presence; not so easy when I’m out here on my own.

I mean, I do talk about eating disorders in my “real life.” People know that I’ve struggled with this illness for a long time, that I had to take a lengthy medical leave to undergo treatment, and that I devote a substantial amount of my personal time (and vacation days) to mental health advocacy and activism. But as I listened to that conversation — and said nothing in response — I realized that, alongside my advocacy, I still harbor some shame about my illness, and I try to shrug off the struggle when things get too uncomfortable. Or I pretend I don’t hear… or that I don’t care.

That nonchalance speaks louder than what I write on the internet.

Let me make one thing very clear: I’m not saying that the people in my life are ignorant or insensitive. I’m also not saying that I need people to censor themselves in my presence.

My sole observation here is that I live a kind of “double life.” To all of you here in the blogosphere, I am someone battling daily to maintain my recovery. To everyone else in my “real world,” I am someone who had an eating disorder, but am doing much better now.

Time to clear that up.

What the eating disorder sounds like to me

Trigger warning: Mention of some eating disorder behaviors to follow

I’ve admitted before that in my “offline life,” I sometimes speak flippantly about my eating disorder (my struggle in particular, that is — I’d never want to cast anyone else’s battle as superficial or humorous). I do that out of self-defense and some embarrassment. I want people to believe that food is not a big deal for me. After all, it’s food — it is a completely unavoidable (and to most, enjoyable) part of being human.

But in fact, it’s a very big deal to me, and it’s the least humorous aspect of my life. It’s exhausting. It stresses my already-super-stressed husband. At times, it even seems to irritate my treatment team.

But the reality is that, more days than not, I’m still battling it. I have to work hard to stick to my meal plan and not give into “eating disorder thoughts.”

Mornings still begin with the urge to inspect every inch of my body to reassure myself that I haven’t magically inflated in the last 24 hours (particularly my stomach — which is problematic when, as a woman, bloating is part of life). Getting dressed can be a nightmare, because I still own many of the same clothes that I wore when I was anorexic (steep medical bills mean no wardrobe budget). Except now they fit, and putting them on usually sparks a bodily memory of how much bigger these clothes used to be — how much smaller I used to be. Usually, I end up changing into something else…and then something else after that…and then eventually find refuge in leggings and loose-fitting shirts.

And then there’s the meals… Breakfast usually goes okay, although I’ve yet to diversify beyond the same two “safe meals.” These two breakfasts guarantee that I’ll be hungry by lunchtime, because eating a meal before my stomach starts to growl still causes me anxiety — I rely on that growl to give me permission to eat, even though I know hunger manifests in other ways than physically feeling it.

Lunch is tricky, too, because if I don’t pack one (which I usually don’t, because my mornings get swallowed up by the mirror battles), then I struggle to figure out what to pick. What if dinner ends up being pasta? How will I know how many carbohydrates to include in my lunch? Should I just focus on lunch and then adjust at dinnertime? But wait, that’s not what normal people do — normal people go with the flow. They don’t pick their meals based on what they’re eating later on… or tomorrow…

But then OH CRAP there are cookies at this meeting… What do I do? If at that point I already had lunch, I don’t feel hungry, so I don’t want to eat one…..but if I haven’t had lunch yet, I worry that eating one will make me feel full before I can get to the “real” food…..then again, I don’t need to stick PRECISELY to my meal plan — I’m allowed to be a little over or a little under on a given day, because it all balances out in the end (or so I’m told)….it’s okay to just indulge in a cookie or two….but I’m not sure I even want one…..but what will everyone think if I don’t have one?…..what will they think if I do?

Then there are days when the anxiety is too much and I take the safest route possible at lunch: the emergency protein shake. My nutritionist and I have agreed on a particular brand that has sufficient calories and nutrients, and that feels safe to me because 1) I know precisely what is in it, and 2) it’s liquid, so I don’t feel as full as when I eat a real meal. But then I feel like a failure, because what kind of 27-year-old gets too anxious to eat solid food?

But I am a 27-year-old, and I live in New York City, so on top of everything else, the most common social venue among my friends is the bar. Then I really start to worry about how I’ve chosen my meals throughout the day, because I can’t always prepare ahead of time to account for the alcohol calories….but then, I shouldn’t do that anyway, because alcohol does NOT count in my meal plan, since alcohol calories are not nutritive and thus I’m not supposed to “compensate” for having drinks with friends. But if I don’t, then I’ll feel too full, and my entire focus will be on how uncomfortably big I feel whilst nevertheless ingesting even more. And uggghhhh….THEY’RE STILL CALORIES. THEY COUNT, DAMMIT.

And god forbid I encounter a scale……….

THAT’S what I weigh??? Why hasn’t anyone told me?! Oh my GOD, HAS THIS BEEN TRUE THIS WHOLE TIME?!?!

Then there’s the iPhone 6 I just got, which apparently has a STEP TRACKER built into the software….and I know I shouldn’t look at that, because whatever number it registers is going to lodge in my head and stay there until I meet that 10,000-steps-a-day goal that everyone swears is so critical for health and fitness and (more important) maintaining weight….but then, what the heck? THAT’S my average daily step count?? I live in New York City for pete’s sake…..

The long road of re-habituation

There are still so many automatic thoughts and behaviors. I see cookies at the meeting and automatically bark at myself, “Stop it. Get in control of yourself. You can’t have that.” Then I catch myself, and I remind myself that I have a New Philosophy to internalize: starving is not a mark of discipline or strength; real strength is saying “no” to the eating disorder — to eat even when it viscerally feels like you are doing something wrong, because you’ve spent half your life training your brain to respond that way.

Often, though, that narrative just makes me feel more ashamed, because there are still times when I don’t tell it “no.” Sometimes I take the easy way out, because I just don’t have the energy to contravene such strong internal urging. And what is the implication of that, seeing as I’m teaching myself that true strength lies in disobeying the eating disorder?

The implication is that I’m weak. Powerless. Undisciplined. Selfish.

Sometimes I wish there were a brain surgery I could undergo — something that would explode the part of my neural network that has come to seek starvation, rewire my motivation and volition, and get the reward centers to light up for food instead.

No such surgery exists, of course. So I just have to persist in the long, arduous process of re-habituation. A habit that runs up against cultural messages about diet and weight-loss… messages that run up against all my therapies that tell me to listen to my body…. therapies that run up against my internal urges to just do things the way I’ve always done them…. urges that run up against my animal instincts that insist THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS “NOT EATING” BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO PROPAGATE THE SPECIES, YOU DOLT.

This is the average climate in my mind.

What’s scary, though, is that I really am doing much, much better.

So just think about how it was before…

Joanna Kay is a New York City writer and social media professional in recovery from a 14-year battle with anorexia. She is the author of The Middle Ground, a blog that chronicles the period between completing treatment and reaching full recovery. Having encountered many hurdles accessing treatment, she also writes frequently about insurance coverage and other urgent issues facing eating disorder patients. Joanna is a mental health advocate with the National Eating Disorders Association and writes and speaks widely about the recovery process. Visit her blog.

3 Yoga-Inspired Ways To Deal With Triggering People, Places & Things

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We all have people in our lives who challenge our patience and test our resolve. No matter how kindly you have asked them to not discuss certain topics or refrain from making certain comments, these individuals don't ever seem to get the message. Or, it's the case of being at work or a social event and having no choice but to endure triggering conversations.

It's the worst, right? 

I've been there. Like the time someone brought me chocolate covered pretzels as a gift while in inpatient treatment for an eating disorder! For REAL! Oh, I could go on and on. And I am sure you could, too.

But here's the thing about "going on and on:" we get charged up, aggravated, and thrown off our center. Our minds spin with negativity as we relive, ruminate, and rehearse the past. This is not to say we should not feel what we need to feel to heal. We must do that important work too. But we must also learn how to remain present and peaceful to protect ourselves from the side effects of triggering people, places, and things.

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My yoga practice has taught me some very helpful skills for dealing with triggering people, settings, and conversations. These yoga-inspired approaches are challenging because they ask us to be kind when we are provoked, grounded when we are revved up, and calm when we are flustered. Yet, they are also extremely freeing, because we learn we can choose to not make someone's ignorance or insensitivity about us ("It's not me, it's you" is what I mean here.) 

Here are 3 yogic ways that I use to stay present and peaceful when I am in a triggering situation. I want to share what I've learned and what helps me with the sincere hope that they help you as well.

No. 1: Stay neutral

Yoga philosophy teaches that the more neutral we can remain in our lives, the less we will suffer. For example, think of a yoga pose that physically challenges you. Visualize yourself in the pose. Now notice: What's your attitude in the pose? Are you holding your breath or breathing with ease? Are you counting down for the pose to be over or are you able to rest your mind on your breath and be calm? Are you miserable or unaffected and open to what is? When we hold a sense of calm in a pose, our physical, emotional and mental dispositions are more toward neutral than when we are panting and impatient.

This same idea applies off the mat, too. When we are reactive to a person, place, or thing, we tend to be the opposite of neutral. To be neutral does not suggest we should not care. Instead, neutral means not being over or underwhelmed with emotion. We sort of settle into the moment and "just be." When you sense yourself getting worked up and you feel stress settle in your body (perhaps in your neck or shoulders or arms) and your mind starts to spin, that's the time to shift from distress to a more neutral zone. To do this, purposefully relax tense areas of your body and repeat "I am neutral" or just simply "neutral" to yourself over and over until you sense yourself calming down. You might also firmly ground your feet into the floor or your hands into one another and take a few deep breaths to help create neutrality in your body.

No. 2: Exhale often and with gusto

Deep breathing is great, magical even when dealing with stress. But sometimes we need to let off some steam. To do that peacefully, let out a good, strong sigh. Exhale like you mean it. I sigh ALL the time. Even when I am feeling happy. Sighing is an easy way to release, reconnect with self, and clean out stagnant thoughts and emotions, like frustration and irritation.  

No. 3: Wish others well

I have found the yogic path of love--also called bhakti yoga--to be a helpful practice when I am with challenging people. This yogic path focuses on the emotional nature of relationships with ourselves and others, and it teaches about how to balance strong emotional states—such as sadness, fear, worry, anxiety and so forth. To smooth out these dips in mood, or become more neutral, one way you can practice bhakti yoga is by simply wishing others well. It is a simple practice, and the intention behind it is virtuous. I am not suggesting you say these words (I wish you well) directly to the people who are driving you crazy. Rather, this is a quiet practice meant only for you to hear. It cultivates positivity within and extends goodness without. Praying for others creates the same energetic goodness. When you feel triggered, try pausing to send out goodness to the person who is instigating you. Simply say in your mind, "I wish you well." Repeat this mantra to yourself until you feel less agitated and more good will within. Doing so will calm your nervous system and balance out stress-producing emotions. 

These yogic approaches will not change a blessed thing about the person or situation that is causing you angst. Instead, they will strengthen your relationship with yourself, because you will feel empowered to peacefully handle triggering moments. When we build and nurture that kind of trust with ourselves, we learn how to lead our lives rather than ping pong between people, places and things that we feel we have to guard against. We ultimately learn to wish ourselves well

Jennifer Kreatsoulas, PhD, RYT 500 is a yoga teacher and yoga therapist specializing in eating disorders and body image. In recovery herself, Jennifer is extremely passionate about helping others reconnect with their bodies and be empowered in their lives. She also teaches yoga at the Monte Nido Eating Disorder Center of Philadelphia and is a partner with the Yoga and Body Image Coalition. She leads trauma-sensitive yoga classes and teaches weekly flow yoga classes. Jennifer contributes regularly to several eating disorder and body image blogs and the YogaLiving Magazine. Connect with Jennifer.

6 Key Steps to Getting Back on Track After Relapse in Recovery

Tanya was 14 when she developed an eating disorder. A few months later she was admitted to a residential treatment program and upon returning home did outpatient treatment with a therapist, dietitian and her doctor for the duration of high school. Tanya went off to college stable in her recovery. She met a few times with the local therapist and dietitian, but felt like she was managing well enough on her own. The relapse didn’t happen all at once. It gradually and subtly occurred over time. By the end of her sophomore year she was back in the throws of the eating disorder and knew she needed help.

This story is so common, where someone is in recovery from their eating disorder for a period of time and then relapses. It may be after weeks, months, years or even decades. Sometimes, the relapse is sudden and obvious, and other times it is gradual and covert.  

Remember this: There is no shame in relapsing. You did not do anything wrong. You have not failed.  

Relapse is a common part of the recovery process. In fact, sometimes relapse is a blessing in disguise because it comes with gifts of wisdom. It is often a signal that you have needs that aren’t being met.  

Here are 5 key steps for getting back on track:

1. Acknowledge that you have relapsed and need help. This may be the hardest thing to do, so give yourself compassion.  

2. Seek professional support. Get back in with your treatment team, or connect with a new treatment team, as soon as possible. This means therapist, dietitian, and medical doctor. You need these professionals to assess the situation and guide you. I know it sounds like a lot, but they all bring a different perspective to the table.  

3. Get on a meal plan. The meal plan is the glue that is going to hold your recovery together. It not only gives your body the physical nourishment it needs to function properly; it also gives your brain the fuel to think clearly and manage your emotions. Right now the food is literally your medicine — which is ironic when it is also the thing the eating disorder is most afraid of. Talk to your dietitian about these fears. She or he will help you come up with a meal plan that safely meets what your body needs right now.

4. Be curious. Relapse is usually the symptom of more fundamental problems in a person’s life. The eating disorder swoops in as a coping mechanism. What are you coping with? What are you feeling and needing outside of anything related to food and weight? Don’t judge these needs, just notice them. It’s also ok if you aren’t sure what your needs are right now. Your therapist can help you with this.

5. Be open. Trust that your team has your best interests in mind and wants you to be happy and healthy. Be open-minded to their recommendations. They may recommend a higher level of care, such as intensive outpatient (IOP) or inpatient/residential treatment, depending on the severity of your symptoms. They may recommend taking a break from things such as work or school. 

“Often times relapse requires you to step back and take a time-out to reassess the situation and make strategic decisions so your life supports lasting recovery.”

6. Be aware. Keep in mind that part of what caused your eating disorder in the first place is an underlying genetic predisposition or susceptibility to the illness. You will always have this because you can’t change your genetics. Be aware that you will be vulnerable to relapse for the rest of your life, and this means you must be on the lookout for signs of relapse. It is so much easier to get back on track the earlier you catch yourself slipping.  

Relapse happens. Give yourself grace and compassion, and get back on track. Recovery is worth the effort.  

Katy Harvey, RD is a Certified Eating Disorder Registered Dietitian (CEDRD) from Kansas City.  She has an outpatient private practice where she helps individuals heal their relationship with food, exercise and their body. She also blogs at Katy’s Blog.

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Yes, Recovery Really Does Get Better

Photo Credit: Kate Williams

Pushing Through the Final Phases of Recovery

I haven’t written in a while, you might have noticed. I relapsed, and I was too ashamed to admit it here.

It was a quick, steep backslide, and the trigger was very specific: I weighed myself. I went home for Christmas and encountered a scale. I thought I could handle the number. I couldn’t.

I freaked out. My nutritionist dissected my meal plan in order to show me I wasn’t eating excessive amounts. We discussed the natural fluctuation in weight that bodies undergo. We even discussed weight loss and how it’s not necessarily eating disordered for people to decide to lose a few pounds — provided that there is an actual goal in mind, you don’t lose weight despite having no physical resources to spare, and you don’t withhold nourishment your body needs.

Looking back, I realize no one actually gave me a green light to lose weight. We were only speaking theoretically. But all I heard was “not inherently a problem…” and off I went.

Do Not Underestimate a Relapse

The severity of an eating disorder is never undone. Every relapse brings you right back where you left off, and so you resume the old behaviors and then go a little further. The good news is that recovery, too, is never undone. So, each relapse is just a little bit easier to bounce back from.

But that’s why relapses can be quite dangerous — you think that you’ll “just skip that one meal,” or do whatever it is that your eating disorder demands, and it’ll be no big deal. Or you think that the consequences can’t be THAT BAD, because my god, how many times have you done that before? Why would this time be any different?

(You can hear the eating disorder in all that “reasoning,” right?)

Eating disorders don’t work like that. Your body doesn’t work like that. Even if you think any damage you might inflict will be minimal, your body nonetheless suffers from the cumulative effect of years of abuse.

Long story short, my treatment team didn’t waste time waiting for me to see the light. A plan was promptly put in place to begin a meal support program at Columbus Park Collaborative alongside bi-weekly medical management (blood draws, weigh-ins, heart monitoring, and so on).

That is what I’ve been doing for exactly one month today.

30 Days Symptom-Free: I Feel… Better?

I feel a bit apprehensive saying this, but… I am doing so much better.

I don’t just mean “better” in terms symptom reduction, because lord knows I’ve beaten symptoms into remission before. Something feels different this time around. Something is working. The insights, the skills, the goals, and so on have abruptly started to make sense to me. Finally, after two and half years, the recovery behaviors that I’ve been studying and practicing feel less like awkward, isolated gestures, and more like one cohesive movement.

Or maybe — to use a more personally meaningful metaphor — it feels like finally understanding a foreign language. I’m moving from merely memorizing vocabulary and grammar to speaking more freely and fluently. The words no longer feel as awkward on my tongue. Sometimes I even manage to think in this new language.

I’ve had important insights these last few weeks about my own journey and how the eating disorder functions in my life. There’s too much for one blog post. But I will note that I can think of at least one difference between this time and all my other treatment/recovery attempts. It has many names among the various recovery communities. I’ve heard it called surrender, as well as trust. But I’ve been calling it “faith” — an unusual word choice for me, since that word is laden with a religiosity that I’m not actually applying here.

Whatever one calls it, it is absolute faith in the process. It is the final (I hope, anyway) acknowledgment that my way does not, never has, and will not ever bring me inner peace.

It is the belief that there is some other, better lifestyle beyond the one I’ve been inhabiting.

Most important, it’s the recognition that I can access that desirable lifestyle, but only if I start doing things radically different than I’ve been doing them. This means eating meals and snacks, reaching out for help even when it feels uncomfortable or intrusive, and being curious instead of neurotic about my own feelings.

It means facing every fear every time because that’s the only way I’ll surmount them.

What Comes After Anorexia?

This sounds overwhelming — and sometimes it is — but, ironically, this approach has become for me the wall that protects me from past failures and future fears. It makes me so hyper-focused on doing the next right thing that I am able to put aside any and all thoughts of failure.

Keeping that intentionally nearsighted faith allowed me to battle through that initial, panicked period of contravening old habits and behaviors and forcing myself to go against my own inclinations. And that’s what I did — I went against every urge, every time. No exceptions. And believe me, that was really-really-really-effing-hard. But I did it. 

Apparently, there is indeed another, much nicer, side to that experience if you don’t quit halfway through.

Perhaps it is because I’m realizing that there isn’t much more my eating disorder can threaten to take away from me… things can’t get much worse by trying all that I’ve been afraid to try in recovery. So, I’ve entered this space in which I’ve given myself permission to keep doing the “recovered” thing to do, with the reasoning that I might as well give this my all and worry about what that means when and if it comes to that.

I’m not sure I’ve ever done that before, given that I’m finding myself in this pleasantly unfamiliar space. It’s a little quieter here, a little more hopeful. Perhaps this is what’s just past the halfway mark of the middle ground.

Perhaps that’s what it takes to make that extra push forward: single-minded, unrelenting faith in the process you’ve been taught.

I’ll let you know, I guess.

Joanna Kay is a New York City writer and social media professional in recovery from a 14-year battle with anorexia. She is the author of The Middle Ground, a blog that chronicles the period between completing treatment and reaching full recovery. Having encountered many hurdles accessing treatment, she also writes frequently about insurance coverage and other urgent issues facing eating disorder patients. Joanna is a mental health advocate with the National Eating Disorders Association and writes and speaks widely about the recovery process. Visit her blog.