A Letter for the Fighters

Dearest YOU,

Maybe you're hurting. Maybe you're numb. I can feel it in your words when I read them in the forums, blogs, Facebook groups, and messages. But your spark is not gone, because I can feel that too. Am I worried? Yes. But am I hopeful? Yes. Always. Why? Because I know you can do this. I know you can beat this thing that for some reason has seen fit to grab hold of you. I know you didn't choose to have an eating disorder, but what's awesome is that you can choose to recover. Be brave, be bold, and make that choice! This world needs you - the whole, beautiful, amazing you...not the hurting, numb, compromised you.

I know you're stronger than your eating disorder. I know you are a fighter. Are you forgetting?

I can't let you forget. I won't let you forget. I can't let you throw away all the progress you've made. You deserve better and recovery is the only "better" there is. Trust me. I know how it is - sometimes a huge part of you wants to just throw in the towel and let the glamorous version of your eating disorder take over. But you are not a quitter. And that glamorous version may scream "You'll be thin!" or "You'll be happy!" or it might spout pleasing numbers at your numbed mind or illustrate pictures of contentment, but it's all fluff. Fallacy.

I've seen what you can accomplish - even from a afar. I've seen what you can do on your own, and with help, and with support. The fact is, you can accomplish a lot and amaze people around you - not by your dwindling physique or your unwavering exercise routine, but by your determination, your true beauty, your intelligence, your passion, your creativity, and your sense of fun.

You have a real sense of fun.

And guess what? It's going to go away. A part of you thinks you'll be happier if you continue down this path of letting the illness and obsession take over... but you're wrong. And I don't want you to find out the hard way.

I know sometimes it all seems like too much. I know sometimes recovery seems too hard, too annoying, too overwhelming, too invasive. And I know that you're screaming inside, "That's not what I want! I want to be thinner! I want to be happier! I want to be in control!' or whatever it is that pesky, devilish voice says to you. But every time you give in to that screaming voice, you're losing a piece of yourself.

And I don't want to see you go.

I'm willing to play hardball and tell you to cut the crap. I'm also willing to love you fiercely and wholly. And you're allowed to vent and rage and cry and freak out. As long as you won't give in to that voice. Deal?

I know it sucks. I know it's hell. But the time to move forward is now. You can do it.

No, you can do it.

NO, you CAN do it.

Okay?

I love you. Now get to work.

Love, Arielle

You're Invited to a Celebration!

Need a pick-me-up? This quick, bonus video might be just the thing for today:

Being Kind to Yourself Through Physical/Mental Recovery

Important topic this week, folks.

We're starting a new 4 week rotation this week! (Set-backs / Relapse / Relapse-Prevention)

This week's topic:

Week of March 4 - 10 - Being kind to yourself when new to recovery. Recognizing the struggle that might persist even when you are physically and behaviorally improved. Having compassion for the struggle. Setting up a strong support network to work through it. Not being HARD on yourself for having a hard time with it.

Day #24: Parent Conference

I actually wrote this post FOUR years ago and at the time, it generated a lot of messages from parents (especially moms) who expressed their gratitude for it. But besides the fact this simple letter was written to parents of those with eating disorders in order to give advice, I think it gave them more. I think it gave them HOPE. Because they knew it was written by a recovered woman and that meant recovery was possible for their daughters.


A word to worried parents:

I was once the anorexic daughter that parents worry about. Now that I'm recovered from anorexia and can look at the situation clearly, it's easy for me to articulate what might be needed and wanted—from the point of view of the sufferer. 
 

Okay, let's be honest; both parties are suffering. 


I feel the best thing you can do for your daughter (or son) is to love her and support her, which you obviously do if you are reading this. Try to understand her. She is probably feeling as though not many people do, but all you have to do is let her know that you WANT to understand. That you care enough about her to want to help her in any way you can. And that you will always be there for her when and if she needs you.

Don't be obtrusive. Don't be harsh. Sometimes it takes a big wake up call to make someone snap to the realization that they are really damaging themselves, but try to be the rock she can turn to when she is faltering. There are plenty of ways to show her the error of her ways without punishing her, condemning her, or making her feel worse.

My parents did good things and bad things. But it's hard for parents—and for anyone—to know how to deal with an eating disordered child, especially when that child is actually a young woman and not a child any longer.

Ask her if she wants you to do anything. Ask her if she wants freedom, support, more recovery resources, info about a support group, a shoulder to cry on, etc. Perhaps she wants nothing. Perhaps she doesn't know what she wants. But if it was me (and it was me once), I would greatly appreciate having my mother or father pose those questions to me.

If she's been in treatment: Just because a treatment place did not work for her in the past doesn't mean she can't get help or will be resistant to other forms of support. One thing that really helped me while I was a college student was going to a support group with other young women who were facing the same problems. We learned to want to help each other, which in turn helped us to help ourselves. If she cares about the well-being of other girls like her, she may invest time in a path towards recovery and soon start to hear what they are saying—and use what she is telling them on herself and her own situation.

Sometimes eating disorder support groups are not publicized and are hard to discover. Ask your local hospitals, do a search online, or contact an eating disorder specialist for info. Don't push…but it's always worth keeping in the back of your mind.

I really feel for your situation. I have a very good relationship with my mother and I know how helpless she felt when I was very ill.

Be there to listen to your daughter, but if she doesn't want to talk, don't press. All you can do is try your best to help her and the rest is up to her. No one can make her do anything—and if they do, it will only be temporary. She needs to make a choice for herself and set goals. 


But you can support her in these goals. 


Show her how great life can be without her eating disorder instead of showing her how bad her life is with it.  


Oh, and this:
Tell Her (it's short)

[it's an old, old video and very homemade, but hey... you got the message, right?]

Day #15: A Letter to Little Me

I actually shared this EXACT post on my own a couple of months ago during Eating Disorder Awareness Week, because it's an idea I always promote. Check it out here in my post "Invest in You" (for an extra photo, haha) & also below.

Arielle,

Don't be afraid. I'll carry you quietly, because you need complete and unconditional love--and my arms will be full of enough understanding that I won't have to use words.

I'll show you what it is to live for you and not for others and what they say and do. I'll let you cry when you need to without feeling ashamed and I'll comfort you like a blanket that soothes all your troubles, worries, and aching limbs. I'll let you stretch into a woman and prove to you how great it can be when you accept yourself and all the changes that go along with being you.

I'll travel great distances to listen to what you have to say. I'll never make you feel alone, unwanted, slighted, or misunderstood. I'll let you be mature when you want to be and I'll let you be a child when it helps you to heal. I'll make promises and I won't break them.

I'll brush your hair. I'll rub your back. I'll sing you songs. I'll nourish you. I won't suppress you--or second-guess you--or leave you. I am invested in you.

You are important to me...because you are me.

Love, Arielle 

I share this so that you can see how genuine and real and comforting it can be. I share this so that when I invite you to write a similar letter to yourself as a child, you'll know I walk the talk. Will writing a letter to yourself as a child heal all your pain? No. Will it be that magic recipe that sends that eating disorder packing for good? Probably not. But will it help? I hope so. It certainly can't hurt.

So, your mission - if you choose to accept it - is to find a photo of yourself as a child. Happy, sad, lonely, sweet, funny, silly, whatever it is! And look into that little face. And with it next to you, grab a piece of paper and write to YOU. Or prop it in front of your computer and start typing... and write to YOU. The little you.

Why? Because it can be hard to write loving things to the adult you, the current you. (It shouldn't be! But it often is!) But it's very VERY hard to write mean, self-hating, disappointed things to a child - even when that child is you.

Give that child what it needs. Say what you need to say. Say what you need to hear. Be real. Be genuine. Be loving.

Day #14: Crimes Against Clients

Today's prompt invites me to share my experiences about a professional or professionals (doctor, therapist, nurse, etc.) who had a negative impact on my recovery, to ponder how they made me feel, to explain  how I spoke to them about it and their response. But with the exception of a gynecologist who told me to drink milkshakes and eat cheeseburgers to fatten up and some pretty incompetent university health center nurses who had to look up "fainting" in a reference book when I arrived with complications of my anorexia, I have been lucky enough to have had some very positive experiences with professionals.

Every professional who was part of my "team," several years ago, was great: therapist in Pennsylvania (L.C.S.W.), university therapist in Delaware (psychologist), registered dietitian in Pennsylvania, registered dietitian in Delaware, group therapy leaders (PhD students & psychologists), etc.

I met the demand for work and I felt respected. When I didn't feel completely understood, the message that they were TRYING to understand was always there.

So today, instead of recounting a negative experience with a professional, I have a slightly different story to tell you. There was a time about 7 years ago when I was faced with the opportunity to share my perspective and educate someone or sit silently and let the negativity continue. I chose to use my voice and this is the tale:

When I was a senior in college, I was taking a class called Sociology of Sex and Gender. It was a good class, and in it, we spoke often of eating disorders and body image, because those are major things women deal with in today's world. Eating disorders and body image issues are also feminist issues. That said, class discussions often turned to personal experiences and/or stories.

There was a girl in my class named Holli who had a roommate with what sounded like (from Holli's description) a serious eating disorder, namely anorexia. During a week when we were discussing, as a class, eating disorders and their various manifestations, effects, and victims, Holli brought up her roommate. She declared that her roommate was "anorexic" and "crazy." I didn't like the adjective "crazy" she used to label her roommate because of her restrictive, paranoid, and obsessive behaviors, but I also took it personally because I had anorexia (though was making significant progress in recovery) myself.

Holli went on to say that her roommate's hair had begun thinning and falling out and she was "crazy" because she still said she'd rather be thin with ugly hair. Now, granted, this is irrational thought, but I related to the poor roommate from past experience when I was just as ill, and it seemed to me (by the manner in which Holli was speaking) that Holli had next to no compassion for this troubled girl. The more Holli spoke, the more I felt irked and sad inside. I did not dislike this girl, Holli. In fact, she had always seemed rather nice and friendly. But I distinctly did not like the way in which she talked about her roommate. Holli sounded selfish, as though we as a class should have pitied her for having to live with such a freak. She also sounded coarse, as though she didn't want to try to help her roommate. But this was all, as far as I could tell, because Holli didn't understand. And more than that--she made no effort to TRY to understand what her roommate was going through.

It hurt me that Holli would pass this girl off as "crazy" for having a problem and a disease. So I decided I couldn't stay silent. I decided it was my duty to let Holli know how it feels to live with anorexia and to show her what she could do to be supportive and/or understanding.

I did not speak up in class. What I had to say would not have been appropriate, nor did I want to let everyone in the room know I had an eating disorder. I would have gotten emotional. I would not have been able to be as articulate as I wished to be. I wanted to be anonymous, because Holli sat at my work station in the room and knew who I was. I wanted to speak to Holli anonymously, but how was I to do this?

After class, I followed our professor (a wonderful woman named Dr. A) to her office. She invited me in and I told her I wanted to talk to her about something. I was beside myself. At that point in my life, I was young, still recovering, and very shy. And I was very nervous. I know I was blotchy as I tried to formulate my thoughts. I used the direct approach; this professor seemed like one to whom I could talk. I told her I suffered from anorexia, was on my way down a healthy track, and felt disturbed by the day's class discussion. She looked ready to listen. I explained how Holli's story made me feel. Dr. A seemed to agree with me. I told her how I wished I could tell Holli how it was from my perspective and how it was for me when a friend DID want to help me, DID try to listen and understand. Dr. A was nodding vigorously and was all for my idea. I think the professor had noticed the "rolling her eyes" way in which Holli had talked about her roommate and I think Dr. A found it as upsetting as I did. Dr. A suggested I write a letter to Holli anonymously, then Dr. A would give it to Holli for me.

It seemed a fine plan to me, so I went to my apartment that day and composed the following letter:

Dear Holli,

I am someone in your Sociology of Sex and Gender class and after hearing you talk about your roommate, I wanted to write to you. I have struggled with an eating disorder for years now and when I was a freshman here at UD, I was confronted by the best friend I had made at college, a girl who lived across the hall named Sarah. I was going through a really hard time in my life, and was in the throes of anorexia; I was sick, tired, and preoccupied with food all the time. I could really relate to a lot of what you said about your roommate and her eating habits. In the worst times of my disorder, I often didn’t eat for days at a time and was a very low weight. My friends were very worried about me because what I was doing was so noticeable, and my hair had even begun to fall out like your roommate’s.

I know it was extremely hard for my friend Sarah to do what she did because she probably worried that I would get mad, fight with her, or blow her off completely. But somehow, she found the right words to say, and that is what I wanted to share with you. I know how hard it must be to watch someone you live with do self-destructive things to herself, and I know it is a very difficult subject to broach, but sometimes it is getting your thoughts across in the right manner that really makes all the difference.

I realize your roommate may be completely resistant to getting help or even to listening to what you have to say, and for all I know, you have probably tried many things over time to help her. I just wanted to share my experience with you, from the point-of-view of the sufferer, with the hope that it can help you approach your roommate in the future and result in something beneficial. I know what the person suffering wants to hear and wants to feel (generally speaking), and while your roommate may not be willing to fully listen to you yet, if you say the right things she may think about them later, ponder them, and eventually get the help she needs. In any case, it’s worth a try.

When I was a freshman, Sarah knocked on my door one day while I was crying in bed (a common occurrence in those days) and asked me through the door to let her in. (I think the timing of when you talk to someone about this is key; if your roommate seems upset one day, maybe that is a good time to bring it up, instead of when you two are watching TV or something.) Sarah wanted to know what was going on (and what HAD been going on with me), but I was afraid to tell her…afraid she wouldn't like me anymore…afraid she wouldn't want to live with me next year. I thought she would think I was weird…and more than that: I worried that she would think I was crazy because she wouldn’t understand. The first thing that was important was that she didn’t judge me at all. She spoke to me carefully and assured me that she didn’t think less of me, didn’t think I was a freak, and didn’t think I was crazy even though she didn’t understand what I was going through. (Even if you feel all these things, I think it is vital to actually express them, because these things can never be said enough when a situation is so delicate.) Sarah sat there on my bed with me and listened while I cried out everything I’d been keeping to myself. She just told me she was there to listen and she let me say the things I wanted to. She didn’t come there to give me a list of reasons why she was worried or to give me a list of suggestions for what I should do. She just hugged me at the right moments and told me she would help me.

I know that this kind of incidence involves an exchange of some kind, therefore if your roommate isn’t as open as I was willing to be, the situation would not pan out the exact same way…but I honestly think, no matter how little or how much she wants to tell you about her problem, that you can never say “I’m here for you” too much. Eventually, she will start to believe it and maybe realize you don’t want to judge her. Instead of asking me why I did the things I did, or why I felt the way I did, Sarah simply asked me what was wrong. We talked for a long while and she said something I always remind myself of when I’m feeling particularly lost—she said she’d never leave my side throughout college and that she would help me in any way she could. It meant a lot to me to have someone say that. Sometimes support is the greatest thing—an offer to do nothing but be there.

Something I would advise you to avoid would be naming her problem. For instance, I have always recoiled from calling myself “anorexic” because it labels me in a way I don’t want to be labeled. Nor would I want to continually say “I have an eating disorder,” or have anyone say to me, “I think you have an eating disorder.” There are ways to say exactly that without using those words. The words “anorexic,” “anorexia,” or “eating disorder” seem powerful and scary. I don’t like to say I’m anorexic—I am me and anorexia is what had me in its clutches. So, if you do want to try again with your roommate, talk to her about her, about what she needs, and about how she feels—not just about her problem.

I know you are very concerned about her by the way you spoke about her in class, and it breaks my heart to know someone is struggling with same issue I struggle with, because I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Even though her habits might be strange and it might seem crazy that she would rather lose her hair than change her eating patterns (as you mentioned in class), just try to remember that anorexia or any eating disorder is truly an illness like anything else, and irrational thought is part of it. I know how it feels to think in that way and sometimes compassion is the number one thing I want if I am feeling adamant in my desire to keep doing what I am doing…not agreement that I am doing the right thing, but compassion for the way I feel and how difficult it is to feel in such a strange way.

I hope you will take this letter to heart and consider approaching your roommate again, and I hope you don’t mind that I wrote this to you. You seem very nice and genuinely troubled by what is going on with your roommate, so please don’t think I am claiming that you handle the problem in an inappropriate way—it is hard to know how to handle a problem like this—I just really want to show you the other side and try to give you new ways of helping her, if that is at all possible, because I had a good experience with intervention and I wish that for everyone. I wish you the best of luck with it, and thanks for listening.

I'll never know the effect that letter had on Holli (or her roommate, for that matter), but I can only hope the fact that someone would take the time to anonymously write such a detailed letter to Holli would have been enough to make her think and feel and grasp even a thread of understanding.


It would have been easy for me to sit there and feel hurt or sad by the "eating disorder" discussion that occurred in my college class. It would have been easy to feel offended by the fact that several people shared the opinion that people who struggle with anorexia are "crazy." It would have been easy for me to do nothing. But something made me use my voice, and who knows, maybe Holli listened. I like to think that she did.

Invest in You

7 years ago, in 2005, at age 20, I wrote a letter to myself as a child.

Arielle,

Don't be afraid. I'll carry you quietly, because you need complete and unconditional love--and my arms will be full of enough understanding that I won't have to use words.

I'll show you what it is to live for you and not for others and what they say and do. I'll let you cry when you need to without feeling ashamed and I'll comfort you like a blanket that soothes all your troubles, worries, and aching limbs. I'll let you stretch into a woman and prove to you how great it can be when you accept yourself and all the changes that go along with being you.

I'll travel great distances to listen to what you have to say. I'll never make you feel alone, unwanted, slighted, or misunderstood. I'll let you be mature when you want to be and I'll let you be a child when it helps you to heal. I'll make promises and I won't break them.

I'll brush your hair. I'll rub your back. I'll sing you songs. I'll nourish you. I won't suppress you--or second-guess you--or leave you. I am invested in you.

You are important to me...because you are me.

Love, Arielle 

I share this so that you can see how genuine and real and comforting it can be. I share this so that when I invite you to write a similar letter to yourself as a child, you'll know I walk the talk. Will writing a letter to yourself as a child heal all your pain? No. Will it be that magic recipe that sends that eating disorder packing for good? Probably not. But will it help? I hope so. It certainly can't hurt.

So, your mission - if you choose to accept it - is to find a photo of yourself as a child. Happy, sad, lonely, sweet, funny, silly, whatever it is! And look into that little face. And with it next to you, grab a piece of paper and write to YOU. Or prop it in front of your computer and start typing... and write to YOU. The little you.

Why? Because it can be hard to write loving things to the adult you, the current you. (It shouldn't be! But it often is!) But it's very VERY hard to write mean, self-hating, disappointed things to a child - even when that child is you.

Give that child what it needs. Say what you need to say. Say what you need to hear. Be real. Be genuine. Be loving.

Dear Readers, You're Not Alone

Now that National Eating Disorder Awareness Week has come to a close, there is a letter I'd like to share. It's a Thank You letter written by me... to all of you.

Dear readers,

Whether you are in the depths of despair, chugging along in recovery, maintaining new health and wellness, are a fellow activist, a worried parent, or a concerned friend or significant other, THANK YOU for coming here. Thank you for reading and listening. Thank you for recognizing that an eating disorder is not something of which to be ashamed, but something that requires help and support, like many other things in life. Thank you for trying, day to day.

You are not alone.

I'm on the other side of this screen, sending out positive energy and thoughts to everyone who needs them most. And out there are hundreds of other girls, boys, men, and women who are taking this journey with you. Eating Disorders feel lonely. They isolate you. They push others away. They make you feel like there's no one but you and the disease. It's simply not true. For every pair of eyes reading these words, there are dozens of others out there trying to win the same fight.

Keep your chin up, even when it feels like your head is being pushed under water.
Take one day at a time - there is no other way to do recovery.
The eating disorder might be your reality - but you can change your reality.
YOU CAN CHANGE YOUR REALITY.
Some people don't know that. Some people realize it too late. Some people don't understand the concept.

It's true. You can change your reality. It doesn't have to be this way.
And you can start today.

With love, encouragement, and understanding,

Proof that Eating Disorders Affect Everyone

I received some mail from ANAD (Anorexia Nervosa and Associated Disorders) on Monday. I'm an ANAD eating disorder support group leader and they send me regular mail. Well, this week I was really intrigued by the contents of their mail. In fact, I made a brief video about it and read the (less than 1 page) letter. Check it out. It's very telling.

By the way, YouTube is having some major issues this week, so a few of my videos from earlier posts may not be working. Hopefully all will be fixed soon, but I know some videos are not currently viewable.

A Letter to E

This is a real letter - to a real friend of mine. But it could very easily be a letter to any of you, if some details were changed. She's struggling. And I'm struggling to find the right words to push her in the right direction.

Dearest E,

You are hurting. You are numb. I can feel it in your words. But your spark is not gone, because I can feel that too. Am I worried? Yes. I've said it to you countless times already. Am I hopeful? Yes. Always. Why? Because I know you can do this. I know you can beat this thing that for some reason has seen fit to grab hold of you again.

I know you're stronger than your eating disorder. I know you are a fighter. Hell, everyone who knows you knows that. Are you forgetting?

I can't let you forget. I can't let you throw away all the progress you've made. You deserve better and recovery is the only "better" there is. Trust me. Please trust me. I know a huge part of you wants to just throw in the towel and let the glamorous version of your eating disorder take over. But you are not a quitter. And that glamorous version may scream "You'll be thin!" and spout pleasing numbers at your numbed mind, but it's all fluff. Fallacy.

I've seen what you can accomplish - on your own, with help, with support. The fact is, you can accomplish a lot and amaze people around you - not by your dwindling physique, but by your determination, your true beauty (curls, freckles, a really great smile, and yes - a body that's lovely whether you see it or not), your intelligence, your passion, your creativity, and your sense of fun.

You have a real sense of fun.

And guess what? It's going to go away. A part of you thinks you'll be happier if you continue down this path of letting the illness and obsession take over... but you're wrong. And I don't want you to find out the hard way. Not again.

It all seems like too much. I know. I know recovery seems too hard, too annoying, too overwhelming, too invasive. And I know that you're screaming inside, "That's not what I want! I want to be thinner! I want that number to keep going down!' But every time you give in to that screaming voice, you're losing a piece of yourself. And I don't just mean in pounds.

I don't want to see you go.

I'm willing to play hardball and tell you to cut the crap. I'm also willing to love you fiercely (and ferociously). And I'm also willing to listen to you vent and rage and cry and freak out. Any time. As long as you won't give in to that voice.

And one last thing: This whole thing totally sucks.

I know it sucks. And I know it's hell. But I'm here for you. And the time to move forward is now. You can do it.

No, you can do it.

NO, you CAN do it.

Okay?

I love you.


Love, Arielle


What do you think, guys? Can you give E some encouragement?

Advice for a Friend of an Eating Disorder Sufferer

My recent video in response to the viewer question:

"My best friend suffers from an eating disorder and I've tried so hard to help her, I've supported her, encouraged her, got information for her, gone to appointments with her, but nothing helps. I know I can't save her. I know I can't force her to get better. But I just wondered if there is anything else I can do to help her and how I am supposed to continue being her friend as she continues to starve to death."

It's 10 minutes long, but worth watching if you are a friend of an eating disorder sufferer... OR if you have friends who you don't feel understand. I hope you can take something from it.

I've been thinking of all of you and I'm sorry for the brief hiatus. Lots going on!

Much love! Here's the video!

Letter to All

There are times when I feel there is so much I have to say and there’s just not enough time in the day to say it all. There are times when I feel no words can adequately express what is my heart. There are times when I remember the life I used to lead and am overcome with the deepest of desires to help. To reach out. To give back. To support. To explain. To send love.

You are out there. And we’ve never met, but I truly think about you often in my daily life. When I am at the grocery store, I wonder about you. When I am in my kitchen, preparing dinner, I wonder about you. When I am going to sleep at night, I wonder about you. When I am looking in the mirror, I wonder about you. You are very important to me.

I am not here to rescue or to save, but I do hope that I can help even in the smallest of ways. I have to admit that I feel a strong sense of duty (no, that’s not exactly the right word…maybe a calling is better) to share and help and support. I don’t mean this in an arrogant, self-righteous kind of way. I just mean that I can say with complete honesty that I have come a long way and I know I can give a sense of understanding and a positive outlook. Clearly, I am not perfect and I will never pretend to be. I do hope, however, that by telling you I was once in a terrible, low, unhealthy place and am now free and happy, I can give something. Something. Whatever that “something” may be.

In a strange way, I feel as though I went through my eating disorder partly for a reason: so that I could help others. So I could mold that experience into something new and positive. So I could bend it into something else that I could be proud of. I can’t seem to shake this concept. It always feels true. I came out of my whole horrid nightmare with a pure clarity—a really good understanding of what I had experienced and had struggled with and had overcome.

It is very fulfilling for me to give even the tiniest glimmer of hope to others that there is life after an eating disorder. It is very meaningful for me to be able to read all your wonderful, strong, and spirited responses and emails.

I think you are all incredible and fantastically beautiful. I just wanted you to know.

All my love,
Arielle

A Common Bond

A friend recently informed me she had been reading this blog and that it really struck a chord with her. She hadn’t known about it and stumbled upon it randomly. She told me she read it avidly, every single post. She worried it was a violation of privacy, but I assured her it was a public site for a reason and I had no intention of hiding my battle with anorexia or my recovery from it.

I was extremely touched by her letter to me and very glad my blog had meant something to her, though she did not suffer from an eating disorder herself. She told me she had had some issues with food and body as well, and mentioned that she’d like to share her experiences with me. I can’t wait to have lunch with her and really talk.

It’s not that this friend didn’t know I had an eating disorder. She most certainly did. She just didn’t know I was writing about it, and then was unsure if I wanted her to find out that I was. Truth is, I want it out there. I feel it’s important. And a lot of people read it. And that’s okay with me. I have no problem talking to people about my past because it is a part of me and I have come a long way.

The topic of my eating disorder does not upset me. I examine my place in recovery every day in some form or another and I’m not afraid to talk about it, especially with people who want to understand. Really, a woman’s relationship with food is a more common thread between us all than we might realize. There are lots of different ways people use food, lots of different ways they cope, and lots of different ways they get healthy. I think it’s important to notice this.

My friend told me that she had her own journey to discover who she is and who she is with food. I like that she told me that. I feel closer to her just knowing she can relate to this blog. My friend also mentioned that she was worried about eating in front of me or about openly displaying her own habits she uses to keep herself healthy. As I told her, people don’t have to worry about eating in front of me or about the habits they use to keep themselves healthy. I have learned to not be triggered by these things. I will always be aware of eating disordered issues, but I can truthfully say that I consider myself recovered and I’m okay now. I would not have started this blog in the first place if I didn’t think I was strong enough to be someone who could help others. I’m great now! Happy, healthy, and very recovery-oriented. It doesn’t rule my life in the least, so to anyone who ever worried—I would say please don’t feel self-conscious about eating with me.

There was a time when I would have been uncomfortable to even go out to eat with any of my friends. That was a couple years ago now. For the last almost two years I’ve been actively recovering, gaining weight, staying healthy and fit at the same time, and working on learning about myself and my eating disorder. I’ve helped myself mentally. I’ve learned to live in the world at last.

In the letter my friend wrote me, she asked about my experience being mistreated by girls in middle school. And she had questions about the impact of my eating disorder on our own friendship. I tried to answer her as best I could. It’s often hard to come up with definitive answers in respect to eating disorders. At least that’s been my experience.

She was familiar with my middle school "mean girls" scenario. It messed me up for years even though I didn’t outwardly dwell on it much. I know she remembers. I didn’t realize how eating disordered this incident made me until later. It was definitely a weird kind of coping mechanism. The friend I’m speaking of was a great friend to me during that time and thankfully helped me cope in healthy ways along with my unhealthy ones.

I tried to get across to my friend that in the future, I’d be honored to be the listener if she wants to talk to me about her relationship with food. I think we can both understand each other well.

“I want to learn more than I already thought I knew,” she wrote to me. “ It's important as a woman and a future teacher, and as your friend.”

As I said to her, I think that’s wonderful. I feel that way too. It’s definitely a continuing goal of mine. And I so appreciate her saying it to me. It means so much and I’ve thought about that statement a lot since she wrote it to me a few weeks ago.

So, in closing, to my friend, I’d like to say: Thank you.

Here’s to honesty and sisterhood.

It's All About You

You'll have to excuse the lull in posts recently. My dear grandfather passed away the week before Christmas. I hope all of you had a wonderful holiday and were able to cope with any problems, triggers, and/or circumstances that came your way. I thought some of you might be feeling down, or overwhelmed, or anxious, or all three. So...

Write yourself a letter. Don't over-think. Don't over-analyze. Don't DO anything but write. Talk to yourself. There is only one rule: do not use any negative words (i.e. fat, ugly, stupid, bad, etc.). Speak to yourself as you would to a little girl who had been crying because she was so desperate and upset that she didn't know what to do or where to turn.

If you would like to share with me, I will post your Letter to Yourself here. Sometimes seeing your own words in print somewhere other than where you put them is an embodiment of strength. arielle.becker@gmail.com

And of course, I will first share with all of you.

Arielle,

What can I best do to comfort you? Come here. Lay your head down on my lap and let me tell you what a good girl you are. Cry if you need to; I won't ask you to stop. Sometimes crying helps get out the bad to make room for the good. If you want to hold my hand, I will leave it out and open and ready for your grasp. Breathe, Arielle. Let it all out. Make room for the good. It will be okay. You have so much power inside you. You have the power to make everything okay. I will help you. You don't even have to ask. If you want to be silent, I will wait with you and our hearts can be the only sounds in the stillness. If you want to talk, I will listen. Relax, Arielle. Lean against me. You don't have to hold yourself up right now. Rest against me. Get warm. Feel loved. Don't worry. Don't be afraid. I'm right here and I'm not leaving. I'll take you anywhere you want to go.

Arielle

The Holidays are Upon Us

To all:

The holiday season can be a tough season. It's often full of family, food, and obsessive behavior. I'm writing this to let you know I understand. The holidays can make you squirm and wake up full of dread each morning. But you know what?

They're not supposed to. That's not what the holidays are all about.

They're about a thousand things and none of those things should be negative or unhealthy or depressing. The question is: how do you get yourself into the right mindset?

You have to psych yourself up for it. You have to be positive and remain positive despite all the negativity you might feel closing in on you. You have to worry about YOU and not about others. I know it's hard--many times those "others" are your family or your close friends and you feel conflicted or manipulated or overwhelmed. Those feelings are okay and completely natural. All feelings are--because they're what you FEEL and they are honest. But you've got to do what's best for yourself and sometimes that means thinking only of yourself at a given point in time.

I know it might sound strange--me telling you to think of yourself during the holidays, when everything else out there promotes goodwill toward the less fortunate and giving to others besides yourself--but you have to consider that if you are first good to yourself, you will much more easily be able to be good to others. You have to start with yourself and go from there. It sounds so simple and so difficult at the same time, doesn't it?

I once had an aunt comment on what I was eating at a family holiday dinner. I had put some things on my plate and had handed it to her so she could add something to it that was nearest to her. "That's not YOUR plate, is it?" she'd said.

I just looked at her.

"I mean, you don't eat all that, do you?" she asked.

It didn't matter why she said it or what she meant by it. It was too late; the damage had been done. She'd gotten the message from my silence that I was shocked she'd say such a thing to me (for at the time, I was very very thin), but when my plate was handed back to me I didn't feel like eating. I'm sure she had no idea what she'd done to me with that short conversation. But there was a lot wrong with that conversation.

For one, she'd drawn attention to my eating. Second, she'd commented on the amount. Third, she was clearly surprised which made me question myself and what I was ready to eat.

In short, that small incident completely ruined my day. And if I'd had the right mindset at the time, it wouldn't have. Now, I know there are situations you will all deal with over the holidays that will be worse than that...or even less severe than that...that will irk you, upset you, and make you miserable. This was just an example. The point is: don't let it upset you.

As usual, it's easier said than done. But all you have to do is TRY. Just try. When something upsetting happens, or you see or hear or feel something that triggers you to do whatever self-destructive or eating disordered behavior you typically fall back on, DON'T DO IT. Don't let it get the better of you. Don't give in to pain and sadness and frustration. Use your anger or your emotions to build yourself up. Do what's healthy and what is good for you. Be good to yourself. Think of yourself. Don't think of someone else's comments or the way someone else looks. Don't think of all the food and how you shouldn't eat it. Don't think of the obsessive behaviors that may have become natural to you. Think of you and the child you once were that is still a part of you. And give her/him what she/he wants. You are allowed to indulge. You are allowed to nurture. You are allowed to FEEL GOOD. You are allowed to BE HAPPY.

Really.

Write a note to yourself. A short one, a long one, a sentence, a few words, or whatever you want. But write a note to yourself that is positive, that quickly reiterates that you can get through things. Maybe it will say: YOU CAN DO IT! YOU ARE STRONGER THAN YOU GIVE YOURSELF CREDIT FOR! Or maybe it will simply say: IT'S OKAY. But whatever it is, write it. To yourself. On an actual piece of paper. And keep it. And put it in your coat pocket, or your purse, or your wallet, or something you almost always have with you. And when you're dealing with some holiday stress or you're feeling overwhelmed, take it out briefly and look at it. Reassure yourself. You will thank yourself later. Maybe later that day. Maybe later that month. Maybe later that year. Or maybe even years from now. But you will thank yourself.

Do you really want to have miserable holiday season? Or one filled with grief, obsessing, nervousness, anxiety, pain, etc? Of course you don't. And you don't deserve to. You deserve all the good things the holidays can bring. I know you can't get rid of all those bad feelings and behaviors in one day--or in one holiday season. But you can START.

Start now. Start with THIS holiday.

Best of luck to you all. You can do it!

Arielle

A Letter To the Other Side

This was in an eating disorder news feed today, which reminded me of something I'd like to post. First, here is the article: Eating Disorder Dilemma.

When I was a senior in college, I was taking a class called Sociology of Sex and Gender. It was a good class, and in it, we spoke often of eating disorders and body image, because those are major things women deal with in today's world. Eating disorders and body image issues are also feminist issues. That said, class discussions often turned to personal experiences and/or stories.

There was a girl in my class named Holli who had a roommate with what sounded like (from Holli's description) a serious eating disorder, namely anorexia. During a week when we were discussing, as a class, eating disorders and their various manifestations, effects, and victims, Holli brought up her roommate. She declared that her roommate was "anorexic" and "crazy." I didn't like the adjective "crazy" she used to label her roommate because of her restrictive, paranoid, and obsessive behaviors, but I also took it personally because I had anorexia (though was making significant progress in recovery) myself.

Holli went on to say that her roommate's hair had begun thinning and falling out and she was "crazy" because she still said she'd rather be thin with ugly hair. Now, granted, this is irrational thought, but I related to the poor roommate and it seemed to me (by the manner in which Holli was speaking) that Holli had next to no compassion for this troubled girl. The more Holli spoke, the more I felt irked and sad inside. I did not dislike this girl, Holli. In fact, she had always seemed rather nice and friendly. But I distinctly did not like the way in which she talked about her roommate. Holli sounded selfish, as though we as a class should have pitied her for having to live with such a freak. She also sounded coarse, as though she didn't want to try to help her roommate. This was all, as far as I could tell, because Holli didn't understand. And more than that--she made no effort to TRY to understand what her roommate was going through.

It hurt me that Holli would pass this girl off as "crazy" for having a problem and a disease. So I decided I couldn't stay silent. I decided it was my duty as a girl with an eating disorder to let Holli know how it feels to live an anorexic life and to show her what she could do to be supportive and/or understanding.

I did not speak up in class. What I had to say would not have been appropriate, nor did I want to let everyone in the room know I had an eating disorder. I would have gotten emotional. I would not have been able to be as articulate as I wished to be. I wanted to be anonymous, because Holli sat at my work station in the room and knew who I was. I wanted to speak to Holli anonymously, but how was I to do this?

After class, I followed our professor (a wonderful woman named Dr. Andersen) to her office. She invited me in and I told her I wanted to talk to her about something. I was beside myself. I am (at least I was then) a bit shy. And I was very nervous. I know I was blotchy as I tried to formulate my thoughts. I used the direct approach; this professor seemed like one I could talk to. I told her I suffered from anorexia (which was perhaps no surprise as I was very thin), was on my way to heading down a healthy track, and felt disturbed by the day's class discussion. She looked ready to listen. I explained how Holli's story made me feel. Dr. Andersen seemed to agree with me. I told her how I wished I could tell Holli how it was from my perspective and how it was for me when a friend DID want to help me, DID try to listen and understand. Dr. Andersen was nodding vigorously and was all for my idea. I think the professor had noticed the "rolling her eyes" way in which Holli had talked about her roommate. Dr. Andersen suggested I write a letter to Holli--anonymously--then bring it (or email it) to Dr. Andersen. The professor would then call Holli over to her at the beginning of class and give it to her.

It seemed a fine plan to me, so I went to my apartment that day and composed the letter I'm about to post here. A letter to the other side.

Dear Holli,
I am someone in your Sociology of Sex and Gender class and after hearing you talk about your roommate, I wanted to write to you. I have struggled with an eating disorder for years now and when I was a freshman here at UD, I was confronted by the best friend I had made at college, a girl who lived across the hall named Sarah. I was going through a really hard time in my life, and was in the throws of anorexia; I was sick, tired, and preoccupied with food all the time. I could really relate to a lot of what you said about your roommate and her eating habits. In the worst times of my disorder, I often didn’t eat for days at a time and was a very low weight. My friends were very worried about me because what I was doing was so noticeable, and my hair had even begun to fall out like your roommate’s.

I know it was extremely hard for my friend Sarah to do what she did because she probably worried that I would get mad, fight with her, or blow her off completely. But somehow, she found the right words to say, and that is what I wanted to share with you. I know how hard it must be to watch someone you live with do self-destructive things to herself, and I know it is a very difficult subject to broach, but sometimes it is getting your thoughts across in the right manner that really makes all the difference.

I realize your roommate may be completely resistant to getting help or even to listening to what you have to say, and for all I know, you have probably tried many things over time to help her. I just wanted to share my experience with you, from the point-of-view of the sufferer, with the hope that it can help you approach your roommate in the future and result in something beneficial. I know what the person suffering wants to hear and wants to feel (generally speaking), and while your roommate may not be willing to fully listen to you yet, if you say the right things she may think about them later, ponder them, and eventually get the help she needs. In any case, it’s worth a try.

When I was a freshman, Sarah knocked on my door one day while I was crying in bed (a common occurrence in those days) and asked me through the door to let her in. (I think the timing of when you talk to someone about this is key; if your roommate seems upset one day, maybe that is a good time to bring it up, instead of when you two are watching TV or something.) Sarah wanted to know what was going on (and what HAD been going on with me), but I was afraid to tell her…afraid she wouldn't like me anymore…afraid she wouldn't want to live with me next year. I thought she would think I was weird…and more than that: I worried that she would think I was crazy because she wouldn’t understand. The first thing that was important was that she didn’t judge me at all. She spoke to me carefully and assured me that she didn’t think less of me, didn’t think I was a freak, and didn’t think I was crazy even though she didn’t understand what I was going through. (Even if you feel all these things, I think it is vital to actually express them, because these things can never be said enough when a situation is so delicate.) Sarah sat there on my bed with me and listened while I cried out everything I’d been keeping to myself. She just told me she was there to listen and she let me say the things I wanted to. She didn’t come there to give me a list of reasons why she was worried or to give me a list of suggestions for what I should do. She just hugged me at the right moments and told me she would help me.

I know that this kind of incidence involves an exchange of some kind, therefore if your roommate isn’t as open as I was willing to be, the situation would not pan out the exact same way…but I honestly think, no matter how little or how much she wants to tell you about her problem, that you can never say “I’m here for you” too much. Eventually, she will start to believe it and maybe realize you don’t want to judge her. Instead of asking me why I did the things I did, or why I felt the way I did, Sarah simply asked me what was wrong. We talked for a long while and she said something I always remind myself of when I’m feeling particularly lost—she said she’d never leave my side throughout college and that she would help me in any way she could. It meant a lot to me to have someone say that. Sometimes support is the greatest thing—an offer to do nothing but be there.

Something I would advise you to avoid would be naming her problem. For instance, I have always recoiled from calling myself “anorexic” because it labels me in a way I don’t want to be labeled. Nor would I want to continually say “I have an eating disorder,” or have anyone say to me, “I think you have an eating disorder.” There are ways to say exactly that without using those words. The words “anorexic,” “anorexia,” or “eating disorder” seem powerful and scary. I don’t like to say I’m anorexic—I am me and anorexia is what had/has me in its clutches. So, if you do want to try again with your roommate, talk to her about her, about what she needs, and about how she feels—not just about her problem.

I know you are very concerned about her by the way you spoke about her in class, and it breaks my heart to know someone is struggling with same issue I struggle with, because I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Even though her habits might be strange and it might seem crazy that she would rather lose her hair than change her eating patterns (as you mentioned in class), just try to remember that anorexia or any eating disorder is truly an illness like anything else, and irrational thought is part of it. I know how it feels to think in that way and sometimes compassion is the number one thing I want if I am feeling adamant in my desire to keep doing what I am doing…not agreement that I am doing the right thing, but compassion for the way I feel and how difficult it is to feel in such a strange way.

I hope you will take this letter to heart and consider approaching your roommate again, and I hope you don’t mind that I wrote this to you. You seem very nice and genuinely troubled by what is going on with your roommate, so please don’t think I am claiming that you handle the problem in an inappropriate way—it is hard to know how to handle a problem like this—I just really want to show you the other side and try to give you new ways of helping her, if that is at all possible, because I had a good experience with intervention and I wish that for everyone. I wish you the best of luck with it, and thanks for listening.

I'll never know the effect that letter had on Holli (or her roommate, for that matter), but I can only hope the fact that someone would take the time to anonymously write such a detailed letter to Holli would have been enough to make her think and feel and grasp even a thread of understanding.

Arielle

"What do I need?"

Sometimes in life, we need a few moments just to breathe and forget about all that is surrounding us. We need to relieve ourselves of the pain and the discomfort and the bad feelings. Sometimes we need to close our eyes and drift into our own minds. We need to stop worrying about everything out there that is bringing us down, making us anxious, filling up our space. Sometimes we need to ask ourselves what we need. It's an important question. One that shouldn't be overlooked.

So ask yourself, right now, "What do I need?"

Close your eyes, breathe deeply. Wait. Breathe again. Feel the air. Feel yourself. And ask yourself. "What do I need?"

Then help yourself give it to you.

Arielle

To Me

Again, I wrote this about 2 years ago. This is like the letter to myself I posted earlier (below), except this is a poem and it's not necessarily to me as a child, but it does speak to the child that is IN me. I love this poem, because I say all the right things...to myself.

I need to tell you what to do--
Ask it fast and mean it true--
It's for me and it's for you:
Help yourself--it's helping two...
You and me and me and you.

I need to give you what you need,
Bandage up your wounds that bleed,
Hold you up so you succeed.
Stop and know it is not greed--
When it is time you will be freed.

Believe, achieve, receive, and grieve
For all of You that you deceive.
Reply and try--do not deny...
Above all, do not leave.

I need to hold you close to me--
Breasts and bones and dignity,
Curly hair and eyes of blue,
Because you're me and I am you.
Reaching fingers, awkward knees,
Jutting ribs, despondency...
Aching heart and tired head,
Little soul once so well fed...
I need to hold you close to me--
Precocious words and empathy,
Dreams and love and weight and pain,
Creativity and shame...
Promises and fragile skin,
Song and breath and smile and sin...
Panic, pressure, lies and fears,
Worries, wishes, fits, and tears.
I need to hold you close to me--
The loneliness, anxiety,
Feelings old and feelings new,
Because you're me and I am you.

(c) Arielle Lee Becker 2005

***

If you'd like to share your own poetry or letter (or anything for that matter), check out Tell Your Tale Tuesdays. I'd love to hear from you!

Letter to Myself

I wrote this letter to myself about 2 years ago. (There's definitely a pattern of 2 years ago being the time I decided to turn my life in a new and better direction.) It's sort of to me as a child and sort of to me just as me. I knew that little Arielle needed some comforting words. This letter made me smile and it made me cry. I look back on it sometimes to remind myself that I am taking care of her and how much that means.

Arielle,

Don't be afraid. I'll carry you quietly, because you need complete and unconditional love--and my arms will be full of enough understanding that I won't have to use words.

I'll show you what it is to live for you and not for others and what they say and do. I'll let you cry when you need to without feeling ashamed and I'll comfort you like a blanket that soothes all your troubles, worries, and aching limbs. I'll let you stretch into a woman and prove to you how great it can be when you accept yourself and all the changes that go along with being you.

I'll travel great distances to listen to what you have to say. I'll never make you feel alone, unwanted, slighted, or misunderstood. I'll let you be mature when you want to be and I'll let you be a child when it helps you to heal. I'll make promises and I won't break them.

I'll brush your hair. I'll rub your back. I'll sing you songs. I'll nourish you. I won't suppress you--or second-guess you--or leave you. I am invested in you.

You are important to me...because you are me.

Love, Arielle

A Letter To the Past

This is something I wrote when I was 21, after talking with my counselor about a specific year in middle school when I was "shunned" by some girl friends. We discussed how detrimental it was for me and that at age 11, when I was in a crucial stage of development, my eating disorder really began. Perhaps it was only a seed, but that seed learned to grow and I can see that very clearly now as an adult. I had never really allowed myself to be angry and forthright with these girls, so I did so in this letter. Finally, a decade after that year in middle school, I was able to say what I had always felt, and add in some of my adult thoughts as well.

Dear girls,
You are not really "dear" to me. Nor are you labeled mere "girls" in my mind. You are "mean girls" who have been detrimental in my development. Why did you do what you did to me? I think I know the so-called real reason, but it still doesn't make your behavior natural or acceptable. You did it really because you were jealous. Because you didn't understand why I had developed physically before you. Because you didn't like that I got lots of positive attention from teachers and boys because I was "pretty". Because, in your little girl minds, you wanted to break me down. You wanted to "show me". You wanted me to feel pain. You wanted me to be un-popular, un-wanted, un-loved, forgotten, shunned, snubbed, and alone.

You were all nice once. You were my friends. But in the name of something I still find difficult to understand, you backed each other up. Ganged up on me. Ignored me. Mocked me. Wrote hateful notes to me because you were all too ashamed or afraid to tell me hurtful words to my face. Why? One thing that hurts a lot is that I know you fully realized you were being mean--and yet you continued. And the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, and soon, a year of my childhood--and a crucial year at that--was gone. Drowned in tears of misery and loneliness.

Ten years have now passed. 11 to 21. And I keep thinking...if only you knew how much what you did to me affected me. If only you knew how "outgoing" changed to "reserved", how "opinionated" became "accommodating", how "present" became "hidden", how "vivacious" became "subdued", how "filled" became "starved". I don't fully blame you. I don't push my issues onto your conscience. But you had something to do with the way I am today. You played a part in molding me. You helped shape me--not by gently caressing me, but by hammering me...banging me down until I was less.

Why?

You made me cry. You made me retreat into myself. You made me a prisoner of suffering. And now suffering is so familiar that I cling to it, use it to cope, use it to keep myself in check.

You manipulated me, girls. You followed, girls, instead of being leaders, instead of standing up for what was right. You tormented, girls. You ripped me apart. You broke me down...then pretended it had never happened. But I did not forget...even though I forgave...so quickly...because I was so hungry for friendship again. Ravenous.

I went home one day--pale, wan, lonely--and I sat down on the toilet seat in the bathroom, brought my knees up to my face, and I bawled. Sobbed. "They told me I'm conceited," I cried to my mother, probably the least nasty thing you girls actually said, but something that hurt the most because I had done nothing. "They're jealous," she said. But I was not comforted...because I was still alone. The reason did not matter.

Why, girls, why? Do you remember the things you wrote to me? I think my mother still has those horrid notes in a box somewhere. She took them from me, upset, and called your mothers to inform them what was going on--what you were doing to me. Your mothers did not approve either...but you did not stop. And I was still alone.

In 6th grade Social Studies, Mr. Moyer set the class to work on an assignment, then he asked me out in the hall. "Are you okay?" he asked me, as I twisted a yellow scrunchie on my wrist. "Is everything all right?" I know I named two names--the two that hurt the most because they'd been my best friends since age 5; "_____ and ______ aren't speaking to me," I said, lightening the situation by choosing those words instead of harsher ones. He told me he was worried about me. He told me to come to him if I needed to. But there was nothing he could do. Furthermore, can a man really even understand what girls can do?

Skinny. Sickly. Sad. Me. Lonely. Listless. Lost. Me.

The germ named Anorexia grew. It might have stayed small, unknown...but it grew. Then. That's when it started. The beginning of it all. It might not have begun...but it did. Why did you do it to me, girls? Why?

Arielle, age 21.