overcoming fears

fear is such a tricky, pesky thing. it binds us in place, it blinds us of the future. and with an eating disorder, it becomes one of the most central governing features of life. although i am “in recovery,” fear is still so present, and so hard to challenge. we all hate fear, but i think we all have a hard time doing anything about those fears so that they dissipate. why don’t we try to change the things we’re afraid of? because the remedy also involves tackling fear of the unknown, one of the most powerful of all.

lately, i’ve been in a lot of situations that scared me. ones that made my eating disorder scream at me, ones that put my insecurity through the roof and had me wishing i could stay at home and hide. but i’ve been doing by best to try things i used to avoid, to take on situations that would be easier to avoid. the results have been quite mixed, but it is rather satisfying to look back at the past few days and see that i’ve done things that scared me and that i have survived, and even enjoyed pieces of it all.

thursday i went out for dinner with my mom and some family friends to celebrate my birthday and my mom’s friend’s daughter’s birthday (we were born 12 hours apart). usually when i go out to eat, it’s only a meal and a diet coke involved. but thursday, we got a pitcher of margaritas, an appetizer, our meals, a second drink (they all got beers, i got a mudslide), and just when i thought i couldn’t take any more, everyone ordered a dessert, then looked at me. and who am i to be the one not to get a dessert, when everyone knows my history of an eating disorder? that part of me was probably being irrational, but i forced myself to do what everyone else was doing (for better or for worse), and got a dessert. i had ordered a meal that was pretty scary to me and had already had about 3 fear foods, so the dessert was really a big push..and a big screw you to my eating disorder. i went home quite uncomfortable, but my mom was really proud of me, for multiple reasons. the first being that i did well will all the food. the second was that the last time we got together with these 2 women, they all had dinner and i had a diet coke. it shows how much progress i’ve made i suppose, and that i can tolerate more than i like to admit. and hey, the food was pretty delicious!

the dessert i ordered thursday, picture taken when i split it with a friend back in april. it’s called a toll house cookie pie… basically minimally baked cookie dough covered in chocolate!

friday was one of my old roomie’s 21st birthday, so i braved my immiment return to BC and seeing both people who i had been friends with who’ve been abroad and the other girls i lived with. as i’m sure i’ve mentioned, i didn’t exactly leave school on a good note. it’s hard to have positive relationships when you’re that sick. anyway, my body image was awful, and i was so sure that the girls wouldn’t want me there. to my shock and relief, everyone seemed so happy to see me, pleasantly surprised that i had returned, and was more lively and healthy and generally “looking good/better.” it’s hard to take in those words, that i look good, when i feel so awful, and when the connotation is that i look different…aka “fatter.” but i know that’s my eating disorder talking, and i just let myself have fun. the real test was seeing 2 of my other roomies… and that was maybe the best part of all! they were so happy to see me and really nice, and we had a great time. plus, i when to my first bar in boston! another milestone, i suppose.

(the last one on the right is me)

tonight my mom’s having another of her friends and her friend’s daughter over for dinner. i have work until 8:30, but there is an expectation that i’ll be home to have dessert with them. the word dessert makes me cringe when i’m not the one baking it or knowing the calories or portions or anything. that’s my eating disorder hanging on for sure, as is the fact that i get really anxious when people i don’t know very well watch me eat. i always wonder if they’re judging me, though i suppose it’d be hard for anyone to judge me nearly as much as i judge myself.

i’ve had plenty of moments over the past few days where i have hated the size of my body, where i have missed my old friends, where i have just wanted to stay home and avoid the real world. but i am pushing through, and while it may feel so uncomfortable, i have found myself feeling a bit more confident and optimistic because of it. by doing the opposite of my fears, i find that the fear subsides a bit. i’m afraid of how much i weigh, but instead of trying to seek comfort in the scale, i avoid it all together. i’m afraid of eating too much, but i eat my meal plan anyway. i am afraid of seeing people, of showing off my body, of being judged and rejected, but i am still allowing myself to take that risk and go out and try to have fun. i am afraid of my body and how it looks, especially in pictures, but i let them be taken, and i look at them still, and i try not to take it out in my food choices. i try to remind myself that my presence matters more than the size of me, and that my presence is only marginally made up of my actual physical self, but rather mostly composed of my character and vivaciousness.

there’s a very famous quote that says courage doesn’t always roar, and i think that’s incredibly true. courage can be such little things, like wearing shorts in public, or ordering dessert, or celebrating a friend’s birthday. it’s giving things a second chance. it’s risking disappointment. it’s saying yes when you want to scream no. and courage is a constant effort, something that has to be put forth every day along this journey. but the thing is, i’m finding that it’s worth it, that the harder i fight, ultimately, the better i feel. i am tired of staying in place with my recovery, and while i struggle with the idea of challenging myself, and get so tired of it, i find that it’s really the only way to move forward. i have done things over the past few days that play-it-safe rachel would never have done. it’s hard to imagine finding things each day that scare me to do in the name of recovery, but there are certainly small steps i can take. recovery is a nonstop job, as much as i wish it were otherwise. but at the same time, every day can be pay day. so maybe, if i let myself be honest, this all really is so incredibly worth it.

what have you done lately that scared you?
is it easy for you to challenge yourself?

constant forward motion

(warning, contains some potentially triggering images.)

i’m finally starting to grasp how badly i want recovery, what i want to get moving forward. i am ready to learn from my past, not just run from it. i am ready to let this go, and never look back. i feel it throughout me, and the enormity of it seems terrifying, but there is a lot of peace that comes from having this resolve. there is no “if” i recover… it’s WHEN.

this photograph is the last picture i have from the day before i went to residential. it’s a body i can never have back, one that i don’t want back. i may not like how i look now, but i know i look better than i did then. i know that at the time, i loathed that girl, wanted only to destroy her, could see nothing but fat all over. now, i see that girl and i see misery and fear and anger and memories crushing her. i see someone who’s enslaved. i don’t see myself, my true self, reflected in those bones. i just see the shell of a girl who very much lost her way, and while it breaks my heart, i have to turn away. i look forward, i don’t want to miss that past.

and now i sit here, and i am not her. and for the first time, that seems like such a relief. i can look into the mirror and say “thank God i am not who i once saw here.” i can think of where i am going and who God says i am. i am learning to accept the moment for what it is, to be open to it. i am looking forward, and dreaming. i no longer am allowing myself to “miss” my eating disorder. i’m not hanging onto the little relics of it, the pictures, the calorie counting books, the eating disorder novels, the clothes. i’m cleaning them out, and cleaning out my head of the lies that still live there. it’s a work in progress, but that’s all i could ask for right now. and i think today i just might end up with another one of these:

my old scale that i smashed... the replacement one is awaiting a similar defeat

i am done. done with being sick, done with thinking ED is something to miss. there is my life laying ahead of me and dreams to be reached and a person i can be, and i’m going towards all those things. there is so much about the future that is too beautiful and wonderful for me to even try to comprehend. the past- it’s ugly, but it’s over. i cannot keep living in and by it. it’s constant forward motion. and i don’t EVER want to look back.

here's to being happy, healthy, and whole

my eating disorder is not who i am. with every passing day, time will pass and it won’t ever steal or break me again. i’m so much stronger and more alive than i was three months ago, and i want that to continue every day. it’s still so hard, and i still struggle, but i know with absolute certainty that this is what i need to do, the thing i want above all others. and i’m so proud of myself for sticking through it, for taking on all the challenges i have and the ones that are certainly lying ahead. it’s time to get my life back, once and for all.

defining recovery- one year in

one year ago today i walked into a doctor’s office, confessed all my behaviors, and let my world begin to change. one year since i was offered help i’d long feared i’d never get. one year- and i never could never  have imagined all that has taken place, for better and for worse, because of that appointment. i certainly didn’t devote myself fully from that day on- but that is the day my mom and i really relate back to as the day that treatment and change began. i have had all kinds of emotions regarding my recovery and my progress lately, but the fact that it is october 18, 2011 means so much, and it is something to celebrate. because as of this day last year, i wasn’t expected to be around now. most of all, it has taken me this time to realize that perhaps i will struggle with this for the rest of my life, to some degree. Perhaps i will always have urges and poor body image, always be partially in the disease. But it’s so much better to be in this position, with one foot in that world and one foot (maybe more) in this one- feeling, loving, connecting- than to be trapped on the side of the mirror i once called home.

where my true recovery began, the place that saved my life

my life is not where i imagined it would be- physically, mentally, emotionally- when i walked into that chilly office one year ago. but i think i know that in all honesty, every change that has happened is actually for the better. the people in my life now are people i would lay down my life for. they are people who have shown me how to love and live and survive and triumph. they are ones that have proven to me time and again that i can be loved regardless of the size of my body.

two of my best friends and roomies, at an ED conference- celebrating our lives together, the progress we have all made, and recovery. these two women have taught me more about life and myself, about strength and God, and everything in between than i could put into words.

recovery is having my life back. it is having my self back. it is eating an extra snack because i want it. it’s saying yes to free samples at work without feeling guilty. it’s eating more one day, less another, and being okay regardless. it’s trying new things. it’s being scared, but acting anyway. it’s knowing i’m more than a number, and smashing my scale. it’s asking for help, being vulnerable, being willing to change. it’s having self worth and acceptance and even love. it’s realizing i am my personality, not my appearance. it’s getting out of bed each morning excited for the day, not crying because it has arrived. recovery isn’t a meal plan, and it isn’t a destination. it’s a journey, of ups and downs and plateaus, or tears and laughs and smiles and frustrations. recovery is more than i could ever hope to put into words- and it’s different for each person. perhaps, for this past year of treatment, the statement that i am in recovery is more meaningful than saying “i am recovered.” perhaps the fight itself, the journey, is what matters more than the destination.

repeat after me: I AM NOT A NUMBER!

when i look back at all that has happened since that day, it makes me smile, but it makes me sad as well. i am reminded of the best friends i’ve ever had, and the distance between us. of the therapist who changed and saved my life- and how i can hardly talk to her, how far away she is, the uncertainty in when/if i’ll see her again. i’m reminded of the school i no longer attend, the friends i was once so close with whose lives have all moved on in many ways. i think of the laughs and the arizona sun, that i can still hear and feel if i close my eyes. i think of my two best friends, who are both so painfully far away from me (hi britt! i know you’re reading this!). sometimes missing all these people and things feels too much to bear- but i remember that they are never far from me. never further than the smile that comes to my face when i think of all the wonderful memories we made together.

a cross i painted in arizona with the recovery symbol on it

nothing we carry in our hearts is ever far away. no person, no place, no feeling, is ever further from us than from inside us in the place we store our memories and love and feelings that have the ability to shine light when we feel lost in darkness, provide warmth when we’re afraid we are too cold. i carry this year in my heart- and thank God each day for the ways He has literally saved my life from being taken by this disease, so that i might awake each morning, each day, and let my recently found “ray of sunshine” out onto the world. i thank God for the past year, and everything that has happened in it. because i can’t sit here and say it has meant anything less than everything to me.

today's outfit... complete with the "i only slept 2 hours last night" face. no day in riding boots could be a bad day though...