Family & Eating Disorders

YouTube's allowed me limitless videos now, which is awesome. This means I can make and post videos that are longer than 15 minutes. I don't normally need/want to talk longer than that, but there are some topics on which I seem to keep going and going. :)

In any case, in response to a message I received regarding family,(difficulty) understanding, control, and challenges, I made a bonus video entitled "Family & Eating Disorders." There are so many things out there for parents of kids with eating disorders, but not much for the other way around (kids who have parents with eating disorders) or spouse support, etc. There are so many different "significant others" in people's lives so I tried to make this video as applicable as possible.

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,

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!

Discovering "Recovery Thinking"

You can be honest about struggling. Because struggling means you are fighting something...that you're not just sitting there and taking it...or giving in. And THAT is really saying something.

I think a lot about how so many women fear the number on the scale that sometimes seems to be creeping up on them.

I really understand what that is like; I used to feel that same fear of the weight and the number on the scale. It made me crazy.

Recovery can often seem like a battle of your two selves. A seemingly endless ping-pong game.

It comes down to this. You see the number. You wince. You try to tell yourself it's okay because you're trying to be healthy. But it doesn't feel okay. And you don't feel good about it.

You think about restricting.

You know you shouldn't. (Am I right so far?)

And you try to get support from others to keep your saner thoughts in the forefront of your mind.

The thing is, if you give in to restricting to lose OR maintain (your body may, as it changes, find its normal weight is a couple pounds higher than what you've been maintaining, hence the slow creep of the number on that scale) you are going to be back on a downward spiral. So keep that in mind.

It's so easy to say you will only restrict enough to get back to what you feel is a comfortable weight, but that's the eating disorder wheedling its way back into your head and slowly clutching you again until you continue and continue and continue, a lower weight always being desirable.

You know this. It's so simple to say right now that you'd only restrict a little bit, but it's a dangerous move. A recipe for disaster.

I know from experience.

Once, when I tried to recover and got to a "decent" (though still too low) weight, I began to freak out even though I was still determined on recovery, and I told myself I'd only restrict to get a tiny bit lower, just so I'd feel better in my own skin. So I did.

Bad move. I was down to below xx lbs. in no time at all. And I REALLY wanted to get better. But there I was. Back at Unhealthy and trying to climb my way up to Healthy again.

I don't want this to happen to you or anyone. I know the mindset an eating disorder can instill, and I want you to know that you are stronger than your inclination to restrict when you see your weight on a scale.

As I've said before, a scale is an inanimate object that should never define you. I know it takes a while to realize this completely but nevertheless, it is something you can tell yourself over and over again when you feel miserable because the number you've seen isn't the one you'd like to be seeing.

And eventually, the more resistant you become against restriction and other eating disordered behavior, the less that number you see begins to bother you. It goes like this. You see it. You don't like it. But you don't feel the desire to restrict.

Days go by.

You see it. You don't like it. But you pass it off in a couple seconds and forget about it for the rest of the day.

Days go by. You see it. You are indifferent. You neither like it nor dislike it.

Days go by.

You see it. You are indifferent. You may not even feel like stepping on a scale is important in your life.

Days go by.

You see it. You are indifferent. You feel good. GOOD. Because a number doesn't dictate your mood.

Days go by.

You see it. You like it. Why? Because it means you are free at last from the power of the scale and the number.

It could take months, years, maybe a decade, but it can happen. Remember that when you step on the scale and try not to let it ruin your smile or your day…because the day you stop letting a number ruin your day, you are one big step closer to peace.

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

Detecting and Reflecting

I think it’s important to take the time to reflect. To reflect on where you’ve been, who you are, and how you became what you are currently. No matter how busy you are, no matter how crazy your life is, no matter what pressing issues are at hand, it is always important to take the time to reflect. It doesn’t have to be an hour. It doesn’t have to be half an hour. It just has to be time. To think. To reflect on YOU. To remember. To understand.

Sometimes it’s painful to remember what you’d rather forget. Other times, it’s angering. Often it is surreal, as though the past represented a different human being than the one you are today. It makes no difference what reflection provokes, because no matter what, what is created is real emotion. You don’t want to deny yourself real emotion, however intense or painful. It presents itself for a reason and you owe it to yourself to listen to it, to experience it, and to acknowledge it.

Sometimes, when the reflection is done, you’ll feel a little lighter, a little better, and even like you’ve gone another step farther.

It gets easier the more you do it. By hiding the past, by covering it up, smiling about where you’re at now, and moving on, you are setting yourself up for problems in the future. By forgetting your struggle you are not erasing the pain, you are smoothing cement over it—and it will always grow through the cracks in cement again, even if it takes years.

Be aware. Don’t wallow in the past, of course! But don’t cover it up as though it never happened. If you had a child who died, you would be in pain, but you wouldn’t pretend your child never existed to make yourself feel better. You would remember, and slowly go through the grieving process, and manage to live again. Even if you did pretend the child never existed, it would be only a temporary solution. Something, at some time, would inevitably remind you of the child who passed away, or of the pain you felt.

You have to work with pain. It’s an ugly lump of clay. Work with it. Make it into something good.

In the spirit of reflection, I’ll openly reflect here.

I just got married. I feel on top of the world and very comforted. I am content. It strikes me as quite a contrast to what I used to be a few years ago. My mind inevitably dips back to college, recalls friends and fun and wonderful nights of laughter and love. Then I remember that despite all the great times, I was miserable. Below the surface, below the unforgettable college days, below the fond memories and sweet times with friends, I was miserable.

Some knew it, some didn’t. Some saw the mask of carefree happiness slip over my face of mental pain. For all the happy college memories I have, I also have as many terrible ones. Furthermore, a wonderful day of friends and fun, though undeniably good, never negated the inner turmoil I was feeling.

I was always looking for something more. Something to help me. Something to get inside of me and make me bloom, make me fly away from the feelings I had. I was desperate, seeking, sad, searching, and above all, unsatisfied.

I reflect on this girl when I realize how happy I am now.

She keeps me going in the right direction every day. She keeps me from faltering. She keeps my head in the right place. She helps me remember the pain and be thankful for the way things are today.

I’m lucky. I broke out of it all somehow to slowly make my way to happiness. It was a long road with lots of potholes and rocks and slippery spots. But I was successful.

One important thing remains: Without reflecting on the past, on where I’ve been, who I am, and how I became what I am currently, I would not be successful. Reflection is somehow as vital to the recovery process as eating when you are hungry.

Sing It, Say It, Believe It

Falter no more.

Open the door.

Let in the light.

Hold yourself tight.

Don’t drag your feet.

Persevere and repeat.

You can be free.

You hold the key.

If you falter, just walk.

If the door’s shut, then knock.

If the light goes away,

Wait for a new day.

If your arms are not strong,

Hold yourself with a song.

Here it is.

Don’t drag your feet.

Persevere and repeat.

You can be free.

You hold the key.

You can be free.

You hold the key.

Don’t drag your feet.

Persevere and repeat.

© Arielle Lee Becker 2008

Free From the Fight

My heart leaps, and reaps…it gently seeps the lessons I’ve been taught. No longer caught, I live my life without the strife of pain, strain, or fear of gain—I’m free. The world has opened up to me. I see. Struggles past have hurt their last and I have cast a new light—and in my sight is everything. I sing. I bring with me the story. There is no glory—only fact. Exact truth. No age or youth. Just life and understanding, the helping-handing, the demanding…of solution. Revolution. Retribution. I’m here, I’m here—for restitution! I’ve found at length I have the strength to now survive…really thrive…to jump and laugh and come alive. I’ve stood my ground, I’ve looked and found, I’ve died and tried to live again. I can. I can! There is no wall, no battle call, no way to know when you might fall. You must stand tall. You must recall the way you do not want to live—then give, and give and give some more, ‘til you are spent and on the floor. And then, yes then, and only then—it’s time for your ascent. You’ll start out bent…but slowly you’ll stand tall again. You can.

(c) Arielle Lee Becker 2008

Addressing the Tunnel

It’s funny how you can grow to know yourself as a person—a whole person—and like what you know. It’s a fun discovery sometimes, to dip into the soul of someone who’s been with you all along, but never really seen as a complete entity. It’s so easy to know yourself as depressed, or crazy, or worried, or anxious—or as a body. But to really know yourself for what you are—totally—is something altogether fascinating. Of course, you may not like everything you learn about yourself, but we all have faults and discrepancies within ourselves. It’s only natural to find yourself imperfect. But you know, it’s true what your teachers always used to say: “Nobody’s perfect.” But you can be good at being you. You can be real.

I list a lot of techniques and strategies for a recovery-helpful lifestyle on this blog, all of which I feel strongly about, but when it comes right down to it, you have to be willing to go into yourself and feel. And then get rid of the bullshit. And the voices from others. And the worry. And the self-pity. And the not feeling good enough. And only then will you be able to get rid of the pain.

The right path is never the easiest one, you know. And the more you struggle, the better you will feel when you’ve overcome what it is that is bringing you down. In essence, everything worth fighting for starts with a struggle. And believe me, your health and your happiness are definitely worth fighting for. I may not have known at the beginning that I would feel as good as I do, but I wouldn’t go back to that horrid beginning for anything. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. And if you don’t see it yet, climb a little farther. And when you begin to see the glowing edges of that light, you will want with all your might to reach it and come out on the other side, free at last from the stifling and dark tunnel you’ve struggled through so long. It only makes sense, doesn’t it?

But as always, saying is easier than doing. Much easier. But every action starts with a thought. So let this post be your thought. And begin.

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