I Am a Fraud

I am a fraud.

Four months ago, I came on here and wrote that I was done caring about what the scale said. Fuck Thin; I Choose Fat was so easy to say, though, when the scale had been sitting eerily still for months on end. The truth is, the moment that scale moved again — even just a tiny bit — I freaked out and jumped right back on the diet train for the last month.

To be honest, guys, I’m kind of a fraud all around. I write in these blogs with all of the passion I have in a given moment, but then I immediately turn around to my real life of not actually knowing who I am or what I believe. I preach intuitive eating and “screw diets” while not-so-secretly still dieting myself. I say “I’d rather be fat than eating disordered” while secretly thinking to myself “but, I don’t want to give up my thin privilege now that I’ve finally gotten it.”

It is so easy to preach “be done with diets” when society, doctors, and everyone around you is no longer really telling you, personally, that you should be dieting. It is so easy to say “all foods are allowed” when people around you have finally determined that you are deserving of all foods now that you have lost the weight. When nobody is side-eyeing you for buying candy or for being in a store that doesn’t even carry your size.

The world is shitty to fat people.

Why wouldn’t I be afraid of being back in that place?

In any case, this post is mostly just me coming back, tail between my legs, and telling you that I totally did not do the thing I said I was going to do. That being said, I’m here to try again. A little humbler, and a little more honest.

 

Getting Comfortable with Being Anxious

It has been 3 weeks since I last stepped on a scale; I have no idea what I weigh right now. Not only that, but for the last 3 weeks, I have eaten the number of calories that somebody else has set as my target number of calories. It is higher than I would choose to eat on my own.

I’m anxious, but that is OK.

I am anxious, but I am doing it anyways.

I’ve been relatively quiet on here about what exactly I’m doing right now, because I was honestly not sure that it would last. I was afraid to tell you all and then to fail…not unlike how I failed to give up tracking my food. But, I’m going to go ahead and talk about it now; if I fail, you’ll get to see it, but that’s ok. It’s all part of the journey.

Nearly 3 months ago, I joined a small local gym and began exercising regularly for the first time ever under the guidance of group personal trainers. I expected to burn out on it quickly, but, actually…I think I kind of love it.

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I quickly noticed that, in order to perform well, I needed to eat. But, of course, the eating disorder part of my brain panics about that. So, I was caught between a rock and a hard place: one part of me wanting to perform well in the gym; one part just wanting to lose weight.

I am choosing performance.

Right now, I am taking part in a challenge at my gym during which I have made some commitments:

  1. To work towards being able to run 5k without stopping — (Accomplished this morning!!)
  2. To work towards my first pull-up — (stilllll a ways off)
  3. To eat enough protein — (I am still tracking my food; but, I am eating more than I would typically eat. And, in fact, my goal is to be eating even more in time)
  4. To not weigh myself except for those weigh-ins required by the challenge (one at the 4-week mark; one at the 8-week mark both on a body composition scale – because scale weight is a crappy tool for measuring anything worthwhile)

I am also working with my eating disorder nutritionist to challenge my eating disorder; it is becoming a lot easier to distinguish that ED voice from my own, because while I am focused on performance, the ED is not.

Right now, I am at this stage where pretty much everything I’m doing makes me (and/or the eating disorder) anxious:

  • lifting weights = stalling out on the scale
  • eating more food = fear of weight gain
  • not weighing myself = feeling out of control
  • eating fear foods = feeling like I am completely losing control of myself and am a bad person

I’m doing it anyways. All of it. Because enough is enough. Because life is too short for this bullshit. Because I want to actually be happy and live life and not sit on the sidelines terrified that a plate of pasta is going to mean that nobody loves me.

My nutritionist told me that if I continue to “do it anyways” (listen to the other trusted professionals who have told me what it is I should be doing rather than listening to my eating disorder (previously thought of as “myself,” but I prefer now to think that I am not my eating disorder)) that one of two things will happen: either the anxiety will fade or I will be able to say “I am anxious about this thing, but I am doing it anyways,” and that will be OK. I’ve already seen this starting to happen.

I don’t want to make this blog too long, but I do update my Instagram regularly now; you can find me @saladflambe

I’ve been posting a mixture of “What I Eat in a Day,” race and lifting videos and photos, eating disorder challenge posts, plus pics of my daughter and my cats 🙂

I am 3 weeks into my gym’s 8-week challenge, and I am already thinking about what I will be doing next. I discussed it with my nutritionist this week, but I’m not quite ready to “commit to it” here. So, stay tuned… If I can work up the courage, it’s going to be big (for me), and it’s going to be terrifying (but, in a good way). Good thing I’ve got these guns to keep me safe now 😉

gunsss

The Eating Disorder Lens

“We must look at the lens through we see the world, as well as the world we see, and that the lens itself shapes how we interpret the world.”

― Stephen R. Covey, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People

When I was a little girl, I came up with the following description for a person’s soul: “Our eyes can see,” I said, “but something has to want to look out. That something is a person’s soul.”

I might rephrase this today as an adult, but only slightly: the eyes can see, but something has to want to look out; that something is the self.

Of course, it’s a little more complicated than that: the eyes can see, but it’s the brain (the mind) that interprets. And, those interpretations are influenced by a person’s core beliefs and experiences. No two people’s experiences and interpretations of those experiences are the same. Thus, each of us see the world through a different lens. Multiple lenses, actually; you may have quite a few.

I have an eating disorder lens.

When I look at the world through my eating disorder lens, it is a dangerous and terrifying place in which I can only find safety by being as completely in control as possible.

It is a place where safety is found in numbers — in making numbers continually smaller.

It is a place where strength is found in being so in control of one’s self that not even natural urges like hunger so bad that you are shaking can make you break your control. Even while food is right in front of you, or in your hand, or even in your mouth.

Perfect.

Control.

When I look in the mirror through my eating disorder lens, I see something disgusting, something that will never be enough, something weak, something unlovable, someTHING, not someONE.

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When I look at a plate of food through my eating disorder lens, each bite might as well be inscribed with some important, crucial need that I will be giving up should I eat that bite of food. It’s like being shown one of those “One Must Go Forever!” Memes, only it’s real life, and your choice feels real and permanent.

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Which do you choose?

Go on… it’s not that hard! Just eat! Just choose.

It took time to craft this eating disorder lens. It took time to fit it to my eye so fastly. It took time and reinforcement, experience after experience after experience.

And now, I’m in therapy. And, I’m working on a new lens.

A lens through which I can see that food is, maybe, not so closely tied to my most vital emotional need for connection.

That, maybe, I am enough, have always been enough…

And, yes, that’s a terrifying thing to confront — because, if I’ve always been good enough, have always been worthy of love and acceptance, then what does that mean about certain events in my life? About certain people from my life?

If I glance through this lens…and, right now, that’s all I can do…the world is still scary and unsafe.

And that’s just how the world is: unsafe.

Looking through this lens forces me to confront my lack of control, my inability to keep bad things from happening, people from leaving, my own daughter from getting hurt someday by this unsafe world that is, ultimately, out of my control. No matter how strong I may be.

A new lens.

The new lens slowly becomes an option — I can choose, in this moment, to look at the world through the eating disorder lens or through the recovery lens. I can choose, I have to choose, over and over and over.

Because, that eating disorder lens…it’s still there. And, it’s pretty damn comfortable… with its promises of possible ways to achieve safety in this world.

I think the goal, ultimately, is that the new lens becomes the more comfortable one: my default lens. That it will fit my eye more and more securely as I continue to shape it and make it more clear through therapy and practice. (It’s still pretty foggy and rough.)

I don’t know what the end result will look like, and that is hard for someone who strives for perfection and control. I am one of those people who, once I know the goal, will leap over steps to achieve the outcome as quickly as possible.

But, recovery doesn’t work that way. It took me 31 years to create the lenses through which I interpret and understand the world; crafting a new one… it’s going to take time.

Fortunately, I have that.