Why I Can't Just "Start Eating" Sometimes

Just when I think I have the ins and outs of my eating disorder all figured out, another puzzle piece drops down from out of nowhere. And then I'm forced to figure out the following:

• How the hell am I supposed to make room for the new puzzle piece now that it's here?
• How did I put the puzzle together without realizing this piece was missing in the first place?

And then I kind of wonder why I've been given a puzzle to put together at all. But there is never an answer to that question...I just have to grab the pieces that are given to me and figure out what to do with them.

Today, while staring at some food and contemplating my own issues with it, I started to wonder why it is always so difficult to begin to eat again once a pattern of starvation sets in. Sure, there is the physiological explanation that the body simply "adjusts" to the lack of food and begins to find other avenues for energy. But as with all aspects of disordered eating, there is more to the story than just the scientific reasoning; in fact, that's the easy piece. The psychological piece of the puzzle is liket the odd-shaped interior piece that requires some extra effort to place.

For me, it all boils down to control and the significance it plays in my life. Mama K (who now considers herself more of a "Big Sis" than a mother, thus allowing for more fun and irresponsibility in our somewhat complex friendship) often says "well, just start eating again" when I fall into patterns of meal-skipping and starvation. So it is her simplistic advice that got me wondering: why is that first step towards getting back on track so difficult?

And another puzzle piece then fell from the sky.

When I slip back into relapse, it is generally not intentional or even weight-driven. It starts with stress, a busy schedule, and a few skipped meals or morning/afternoon snacks. The hunger sets in, and it's a familiar, "cozy" place...because I have established a pattern of using starvation and/or other self-destruction as a coping mechanism during turbulent times in the past. Once ED is in your past, it takes serious work to stay on the straight and narrow. So letting it slide a little becomes comforting, taking added stress off an already full plate.

By the time I catch myself slipping back into extended starvation, I usually have already started to lose weight. Thanks to distortion, the weight loss begins to feel "right". So the pattern continues a little longer...then a little longer...and then before I know it, I am no longer M but Anorexic Girl yet again.

Then, I am forced (by either myself, a friend, or a medical professional) to take that first step back towards the meal plan. And I fall to pieces when presented with a perfectly acceptable "safe" meal straight off The Original LA Meal Plan. What is up with that? I know the food is "acceptable". I know I'm in such a caloric deficit by that point that a small meal isn't going to put a dent in weight gain. So what is it?

Imagine starving for over a week. I know it's not normal and most people have never and will never come close to that sensation. But try to imagine it. And then imagine being faced with food. What would be your biggest fear?

That you won't be able to stop once you start eating...because your body is in desperate need of FOOD.

The reason it's so hard to break the pattern of starvation is the fear associated with overeating...aka "losing control"...aka being "gluttonous" and "undisciplined". As if one cracker, or even 10 crackers, might lead to devouring the whole box.

Which it probably would.

Because the body is starving.

And then I'd hate myself for not having any sense of self-control.

So the anorexic continues to starve. It's just easier to starve than to try and stop when the body is screaming "more food, more food, MORE FOOD!"

Part of Dr. K's motivation for my brief yet critical summer hospital stay was to "break me out of the eating disorder cycle". At the time, I thought I knew what she meant, although I clearly did not. Her rationale now makes sense: taking that first step is by far the hardest, but crucial to breaking the cycle. And it's almost necessary for it to be supervised or coached...because otherwise, the body takes control over the mind and all of the physical hunger, emotions, control, malnourishment...they all collide at that moment and make it nearly impossible to think clearly.

Slooooooow Down and Chew

Whether I want to admit it or not, my body is still recovering from the marathon. I was riding high all last week, the adrenaline still pumping and feeling like an indestructible steel statue. Over this weekend, however, my body decided to just be done with the whole thing, throw in the towel, and shut down. It's just screaming "MERCY!".

So I gave in. If there is anything I have learned in the last year or so, it's that my body talks to me. I ignored it for a long time, but now I listen when it screams and bitches and moans and digs in its heels.

Don't get me wrong. I still exercised a decent amount this weekend both on the bike and running. But I backed off because I've come to the realization that it really doesn't do any good to push. In fact, my success at the marathon can probably be chalked up to the fact that I moved healing and rest to the top of the to-do list in the weeks leading up to the trip and race. I used to think my body liked and appreciated the pounding; but in reality, it seems to perform better when I take the time to let it be every now and then.

This is the new "zen" me. Well, the closest someone as high-strung as me can get to "zen". 

I'm reading a book my naturally "zen" and "hippie-esque" boss (her and JN would be fast friends) threw on my desk the other day: Eating Mindfully. Mind you, I have to be careful with food-related books, as the content can sometimes trigger restriction or obsessing over what I eat (the complete opposite of what we are trying to do here). But LA, who knows me best, gave me the green light to read this one and got all giddy the way she normally does when she hears the slightest reference to geeky nutrition stuff.

 So I'm only a few pages into Eating Mindfully and I'm already buying into the philosophy, which basically states that we have become a society of mindless eaters. So true.

While restriction was pretty much the name of my game at the height of my eating disorder, I still had moments during which I ate quite mindlessly. Granted, I usually caught myself, beat myself up with guilt, and ran to the bathroom to "get rid of it", but I do remember moments of "weakness" (that's an eating disordered reference by the way...there is no "weakness" associated with allowing yourself to eat something) during which I was shoveling anything and everything into my mouth after days of starvation.

Haven't you ever sat in front of the television and suddenly found yourself at the bottom of a bag of chips? Or at the movie theater slurping the last little bit of a gajillion-ounce Pepsi only to think "holy shit...is all that Pepsi now swishing around inside of me..."?. Or reached for a third, fourth, fifth slice of pizza just because it was in front of you?

That's mindless eating. We all do it.

So my new goal for this week is to eat mindfully. Listen to my body (which is screaming at me "recovery, please!"), eat when I'm hungry, eat what I'm craving, and take the time to enjoy it. In reality, we should all be doing that.

Last week brought several days at work during which I "forgot" to eat lunch. I am currently wrapped up in a lot of projects, and when my crazy mind gets going, it's hard to stop and "enjoy" a sandwich or something. I finally emailed LA one day when I was up to my ears in stress and said something along the lines of "I want to punch everyone in the face, I am way too stressed, I am drowning, and I haven't eaten lunch and don't see any time in the near future to do so."

After she finally convinced me to eat (with really nothing more than an email saying "please go eat"...but I listen anyhow, because she's, well, like my mom), I inhaled my turkey sandwich and carrots and returned to work. Almost immediately, the thoughts starting creeping in: Fat. Gross. Sloppy. Sluggish.

But, alas, thanks to my months and months and months spent in therapy...I understood it. I hadn't taken the time to eat mindfully. Therefore, eating too quickly made me 1. feel unnaturally full, and 2. like a ravenous pig who cannot control her urges. Both are psychological triggers for a previously anorexic person to purge, restrict, or over-exercise later on.

I was so proud of myself for figuring this out.

And the philosophy of Eating Mindfully confirms what I figured out. When we don't take the time to listen to our bodies, rush through meals, neglect to truly enjoy the food...we engage in all kinds of psychological battles with ourselves and start to think:

• I cannot control myself. I am disgusting. 
• I overate AGAIN. Fatass!
• Gluttonous pig. 
• My gut is sticking out, and I am certain I instantly gained 12 pounds from lunch alone. 
• (Enter other damaging food-related self-talk here...)

So I tried out some of the suggestions this book has offered me already (even though I'm only on page 8 or something), and zoned in on the flavors, textures, and nutrients within the foods I ate this weekend. I chewed slower, tried to enjoy it (kind of hard for me, given the ED past), and just went with the flow. And I have to say, it made eating a lot easier. 

Why do we assume that because we eat a "junk" food we must either 1. eat it all (as in: "Might as well!") or 2. eat so little that we barely enjoy it (as in: "I will have ONE Dorito...)?

Really, it's not that black and white. And the most balanced approach to food, as with most things in life, is somewhere in the gray. Everything in moderation, but with awareness and reflection at the root of the action.

So my issue was with anorexia. Yours might be with overeating. Or maybe it's just an over-obsession with food or body. Whatever it is, we can all benefit from paying a little more attention to the food in our mouths. After all, it's hard to deny that a strong psychological link exists between what we eat and how it makes us feel.

A New Kind of Swagger

Running 26.2 miles truly gives you a new kind of swagger. I feel, having now completed a marathon, that regardless of time or perceived level of "success", the step you take across the finish line is the first step into a whole new version of yourself.

I don't care who you are. Even the most humble person develops at least an ounce of cockiness after completing one of the greatest athletic challenges of all time.

So what happened? What was the race like? You want the gory details? Hell if I know. I was half out of my mind towards the end, and the second the finish line was in sight it was as though a giant eraser just cleaned out all memory of pain or distress or self-doubt. I sort of remember the pain in my quads, Linkin Park blaring through my iPod, and throwing a Gatorade cup on the ground in anger when I saw the mammoth Hill Intended to Kill You at mile 25.

Dr. Joe, always relating life to sports so I can understand it, told me once that life mimics the marathon. There are so many highs, lows, challenges, victories, experiences...it is ever-changing. When you "hit the wall", you have to just keep going, knowing that another "runner's high" may only be a mile or so away. Running a marathon, like in life, requires a lot of hope and grit and faith.

I finished my first marathon in 4 hours, 24 minutes...only about 20 minutes behind my initial pre-injury goal. I bawled my eyes out when I crossed the finish line, so much so that the race official thought I was hurt. All of the physical pain of the previous four hours fell away instantly, and here's the amazing thing...a great deal of the emotional pain of the last year or so fell away with it. It was the most incredible and life-changing experience I have had to date.

And what does someone recovering from an eating disorder do once she finishes a marathon? Not what you may expect: I ate like there was no tomorrow. Sweet potato fries, pulled chicken sandwich with an amazing Southern barbecue sauce, cole slaw, potato salad, potato soup, jello shots, wine, ice cream cone, countless slices of pizza, salad, fried (yes, I said fried) ravioli, Belgian waffle, scrambled eggs, fruit, cupcakes, Starbucks...

And then when I arrived home a day later...

More cupcakes (compliments of LA), a veggie burrito, glasses of chocolate milk, Turtles from my student assistant...

I couldn't get enough. But you know what? I enjoyed it. I really did. And I talked to JN last night on the phone and can honestly say I can let it go. I realized, in talking to JN, that the body I sometimes try to "fix" is the same one that carried me through 26.2 miles of running (something, let's be honest, very, very few people ever attempt to do...let alone complete). So, hey, ya know...if it wants some foods it usually doesn't eat...whatever.

And carelessly swallowing large amounts of junk food without too much of an afterthought is just one small facet of the new swagger.

The other facets of the new swagger come from a renewed confidence and trust in myself. Running a marathon taught me that when I'm faced with immense struggle, only I truly have the ability to pull myself through it. Tangible proof (in the form of a marathon finish) that I do, in fact, possess that ability is a bit of a game-changer looking forward.

Over the last several weeks (months, actually), I've picked up on a common theme that has been peppered into conversation, comments, emails, etc. It's come in different forms and isn't always cut and dry (in fact, rarely so bluntly stated, but often implied): you only run these distances because you have an eating disorder.


Um, no. But thanks for your concern.

I may have used running as a vehicle to burn loads of calories before. But just because I still run (or RUN...capital letters imply the sheer insanity of the mileage) does not mean the motivation is the same.

I run for the rush of the finish. I run because I enjoy the confidence gained when completing the goals I set for myself. I run because my good friends run, and it's a way to stay in touch with each other (what else do you think we do when we run for hours together?). I run because I crave intensity in my life and exercise is how I choose to use my energy. I run because I like to do the things other people are afraid to try. I run because I like challenges. I also run because, well, I'm kind of good at it. So why the hell not.

It takes some time spent in eating disorder therapy to let go of the previous motivation for exercise. But just because someone lets go of the disordered motivation for the activity doesn't mean she needs to give up the actual activity. There's a difference.  

So completing the marathon has given me the swagger to brush that implied belief aside when I sense it behind the "concerned" words of others. Some will always see me as weak, sick, and eating disordered. That's fine. I get it. I'm still thinner than most women my age, I still eat healthfully, sometimes slip back into old thinking (but always reach out to LA, JN, or Dr. Joe immediately, like I've been trained to do), and continue to exercise more than the vast majority of the general population. Those are the things people will see on the outside and use to form their judgments and opinions. I can accept that. But that doesn't mean I need to stop what I'm doing, especially if I'm confident that I'm a better, healthier person now than I was a year ago.

LA reminded me once that many people think that weight gain and eating junk food is a a sign that a formerly anorexic person is "healed", but that those outward signs are not at all indicative of whether or not someone has overcome their eating disorder. Rather, it's the stuff people cannot see: the change in motivation for exercise, the self-acceptance, the improvement in body dysmorphia, the movement away from a need for perfection. Only the individual (and maybe the support team who has been there all along) is able to see, feel, and experience the real change and growth.

Swagger comes from knowing inside that you've become a better, stronger version of yourself...whether those on the outside can see it or not.

I went to physical therapy yesterday and consulted with my therapists and doctors about my recent problems with my leg. Given the success of my first (and what I thought was my only) marathon, I've been given more...as long as we correct some of the orthopedic issues with orthotics and continued physical therapy.

So I'll be doing another. And who knows how many more. There's also a 50K on the books for this summer, and a host of other half marathons and fun races with friends. I'll be continuing to run a lot of miles to train for them because I want to have the best shot at achieving those accomplishments; not because I am a "former eating disordered" person.

I am now a marathon finisher. I am a runner. I now run because that it where I choose to spend my energy and time and competitive spirit. That's the bottom line.

I'm also a lot of other things: loyal friend and wife, a writer, a professional, a leader... I'm not defined by running, but it is something I enjoy a great deal. It has also saved me and helped me to grow as a person and brought amazing people into my life. It's given me the mental strength and resiliency to overcome nearly anything I encounter.

A weak, sick, person cannot complete a marathon.

But I just did.

Food for thought.