Dr. Joe's Bonfire

Dr. Joe wants to have a bonfire...metaphorically speaking (I think- I doubt that he regularly invites patients to his house for casual bonfires. Plus an eating disorder patient might just be sent over the edge when presented with a s'more or a piece of processed meat on a stick).

Dr. Joe wants to burn my two college degrees...my race bibs and medals...my swimming ribbons...my personal training certification...my accomplishments, achievements, and awards. He says a bonfire is in order to show me that even when all of this is burnt to a crisp, I still exist.

I, of course, panic when he says this. All that hard work up in flames? I think not. Those things define me. Likewise, being several pounds underweight (the skinny runner/swimmer girl) has come to define me. Today, a student on our campus even called out to me: "hey there, Tall Skinny Girl"...nice). It took a lot of work...pain, even, to deteriorate to this point. Although I am fully aware of how sick the eating disorder has made me, it's a tough thing to let go of because it's an achievement (an unhealthy one, of course)...and achievement is what drives me in my life. It's the carrot dangling out in front of me at all times.

Even throughout my treatment, I have been driven by the lure of achievement and success. I was once referred to as the "Perfect Patient" by Dr. Joe (before he knew me well enough to know this would force me to hold myself to a ridiculously high standard while fighting to maintain that title). I tried my best to turn in perfect food logs, and I would be crushed by a relapse or a screw-up. I can remember several Monday mornings on which I arrived at LA's office in tears because I had purged one to many times that week, hadn't been able to bring myself to eat the appropriate servings of protein, or had skipped a few consecutive meals. Each time, she would look at me and say "it's ok...let's look at what you did do."

And then I'd take a deep breath and we'd move on.

My need to achieve and maintain my title as "Perfect Patient" sometimes kept me from saying what I wanted to while in Dr. Joe's office, or allowing myself to cry or get angry. I was somehow afraid they may abandon me if I showed I wasn't making progress, showing achievement, earning success. Lately, though, I've come down with a serious case of the "I dont give a f^*#s" and it's been making the process a hell of a lot more productive. Sure, I'm certain Dr. Joe wants to slap me across the face at times, but he's also seeing the real me for once, and it's allowing us to finally get somewhere.

My assignment for the week is to compile a list of positive things about myself, but there is one rule: they cannot be tied to achievement in anyway. They must be tied to me as a person, and would still exist even if he were to burn my medals, degrees, ribbons, and all other evidence of success. That throws a wrench in the process.

Battling an eating disorder or not, that's a tough task when you think about it. What defines you? When people ask about your life, what would you say? For me, it's my education level, my job, my athletic pursuits, the certifications I hold, the achievements that fill my resume. I would imagine most others would answer that question in a similar manner.

I was honest with Dr. Joe tonight...I'm going to have a hard time with this assignment. When I look at myself right now, I'm not able to see much. I see someone who has to mentally gear up to consume a turkey sandwich, someone who trashes her body, someone who has lost her strength. My fallback answer for this assignment would be how hard I train, the position I hold, the degrees hanging on my wall...you get the point.

So I have six days to think it over and get a list together. If all my accomplishments went up in flames at Dr. Joe's metaphorical bonefire...who would I be?