In The Name of Health
A few months ago, I wrote a blog about learning to let go of some of the emotional baggage I carry around. Some of it stems from societal expectations I internalize, but some of it is born in my very own brain. I introduced you to Darth Vader, my inner critic. But what I didn’t tell you about Darth Vader is that he only talks to me about issues relating to body image and an unhealthy relationship with food.
As I write this, I feel incredibly vulnerable. I don’t talk about this. But it’s National Eating Disorder Awareness Month, and for fuck’s sake, it’s time.
Twenty years ago, when I got my first job out of college, along with my first real apartment with hubs, I also joined a gym. I decided it was time to start exercising on the regular again and that my body might benefit from some vegetables and protein. But as the proverb goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. My type A proclivity, combined with my tendency for absolute thinking lit the fuse on some very questionable behaviors, which have perpetuated until very recently, all in the name of “health.”
Recently I read the book Body Positive Power, by Megan Jayne Crabbe, and for the first time ever, someone validated my experiences. I have known for a long time that I was stuck on an emotional tilt-a-whirl at a traveling fair, and the carnival attendant wouldn’t stop the ride. I tried, on multiple occasions, to ask for help from medical providers, only to be told that my body weight was normal, so I obviously didn’t have an eating disorder. But guess what? Eating disorders come in all shapes, sizes, and behaviors and the medical community needs to catch up.
When rigid rules about food and exercise infiltrate your thinking enough to change the way you behave, it’s a problem.
When you avoid social situations because you won’t be able to control food options, it’s a problem.
When you treat yourself to junk food and immediately feel that you need to hit the gym, it’s a problem.
When you force yourself to throw up your food after a meal, it’s a problem.
When you starve yourself to the point of developing a semi-permanent neurological condition, it’s a problem.
When you obsessively enter your food intake into a macro-tracking app, it’s a problem.
When you force yourself to workout when your body is chronically tired, and possibly injured, it’s a problem.
I have written before about my amazing therapist, Dawn. I have been working with her for about 15 months and she is one of the best people to ever enter my life. Like, ever. I have worked with a few therapists in the past, but never felt comfortable enough to really dig into the archaeology inside by brain. Over the course of my treatment, I have begun to talk about my struggles and think about ways to combat them. I guess “combat” isn’t really the word. I don’t want to beat this part of me into submission. I want to repair my way of thinking. I want to accept my body the way that it is, and someday learn to love it.
I think this is all I want to share today. I have talked before about how we are all works in progress. In the past, I never would have bothered to look for books about body positivity, or body neutrality, or body acceptance. These messages are so soothing to my soul, and while they haven’t permanently taken up residency inside my head, they vacation periodically. And that is progress. To be continued…
