What, you think LA or JN gave me permission to throw up food? Um, no. I'm talking about a different type of purging. No worries. I'm eating. Sit back down.
When you're forced to re-examine your life, make sense of it all, and become a freer and better version of yourself (this process is known as therapy...everyone should go through it, although overcoming an eating disorder is not my recommended path), you learn to shed almost everything that you once hid behind. You stop editing, stop watching over your shoulder, and start living the most honest, genuine and true life you could have ever imagined. You, essentially, become YOU. All caps. No mincing. No acting. Just the real YOU.
The best part of that very process is developing the confidence to not really care anymore what others think, and to follow the path you know feels right, natural...unforced.
Of course, there have been growing pains as I've started to shed the crap and heal from years and years of anger, mistrust, resentment, and self-destruction. To a critical eye, one may assume I have "changed"; the irony is that while it appears as though I've transformed...it's really quite the opposite. I am now the closest to the genuine ME I have ever been. Anything that has fallen away, "changed" or been tossed aside was, as I've come to realize, not part of the original package to begin with. It was like the shiny label and fancy exterior used to distract from the flaws of the product held inside.
For years, I shopped. I shopped like crazy and spent money and always had an overabundance of clothes, jewelry, bags, shoes. I was known for having whatever was new, never shopping the clearance racks (because that stuff was outdated and unwanted...obviously). It carried over into my demeanor and approach to life too. Always striving to be polished, professional, play the "political" games I needed to play as a (very) young person trying to move up quickly. I had to be that way. From 18, I swore I'd never return home to the chaos and instability I came from. So I adopted the persona of someone who was so "together" that my success in life was nearly guaranteed.
Well, fuck that. Because I really wasn't together at all. I carried so much anger, so much self-induced pressure, and an utter lack of appreciation for the person I really am. And the battle of trying to "be" something so counter to my genuine self, frankly, wore me out. It caused me to run myself into the ground, starve myself in the pursuit for perfection, and exist in a constant state of overdrive.
I've taken many, many steps recently to shed the garbage. I have pulled those whom I love in a little closer, and held those whom I do not trust a little further away. I have opened up and give, give, give...and I love it. I take the time to listen, to do what is right, and to invest only in those things in which I place value and meaning. I dump my energy into my passions (work, sports, relationships), and waste very little of it on anything that isn't worthwhile.
The last step in this purging was not necessarily the most difficult, but delayed only because it required time. But while battling a cold this weekend, I found the time to dive in head-first...and purge my material belongings.
I'm not talking about a seasonal "let's clean out the closet" mini-purge. I'm talking the fundamental, simplifying-of-my-life-for-good kind of purging that only someone who has come out on the other side of some serious trauma and therapy can truly understand.
I got rid of it all. At least 3/4 of my wardrobe (yes, you read that correctly: 75% of my wardrobe). Shoes. Bags. Jewelry. EVERYTHING. Am I left with anything? Sure. Only what I love and wear regularly. And I need nothing else. I truly need nothing else.
See the thing is...I'm not a clothes horse. I'm really, genuinely not. Sure, I like to look nice for work and to go out with friends. But that's about it. I'm more of an active person who likes to get muddy and run miles and miles and miles, someone who is not afraid to swim in a lake, likes adventure and outdoors and competition. I like to sweat. I like to feel like I've accomplished something, I enjoy the thrill of LIVING...not dressing for living. Sorry, that's just who I am.
Friends joked with me this weekend that this won't last long, that my closet will be filled again soon.
Nope.
Like I said- this is not your run-of-the-mill spring cleaning. This is me. This is the back end of therapy, where I have finally come to realize that I used to pour anxiety and anger into buying stuff, starving myself, overworking to death. Sure, I'll shop. I'll buy things I love and will wear over and over and over again. But I can promise you a good chunk of the money I spend in the future will be invested in other people. In helping those who don't have it. In acknowledging the people whom I love with tokens of appreciation or help when needed.
Not a new version of me. Just ME.
This "permissable purging" of my material belongings produced some other "ah-ha" moments too, most of which were unintended until JN pointed out the fact that the "cleaning of the closet" is a major step for someone recovering from anorexia. Amidst the keep-toss-donate piles that had formed on my bedroom floor, I was forced to subconsciously accept my body and size for what it is now, what it may never be again, and what it could be in the future.
I realized this weekend, while trying to decide what to keep, just how small my "sick" sizes really are. Various pairs of pants were barely big enough to fit over my thighs (and if you know what I currently look like, that really puts it into perspective, as I am still a very thin person). I can remember a time when some of those pants- though they are the smallest size carried by most stores- were too large and needed to be held up by a belt.
I was taking slow steps towards extreme sickness and potentially death. I didn't realize it at the time.
It was humbling. And a little frightening. So much so that I told Big Sis K, LA, and JN how much it scared me to realize how sick I used to be.
With my main goal in mind (to keep as little as possible), I was forced to pick a size. I really could no longer keep six different sizes in my closet while trying to go the "minimalist" route. So I picked the size I currently am, and one size bigger to allow for some flexibility. The rest- bigger and smaller- were given away.
Living in the moment. A new concept for someone like me.
JN's text from Sunday morning (after the massive closet purge) reads:
Awesome that you got rid of the clothes. It's not who you are anymore. Very powerful step. It's important to have clothes that fit right now because it communicates acceptance.
I've accepted who I REALLY am: Fiercely loyal to those I love. Honest. Driven. Unmaterialistic. Generous. Empathetic. Opinionated. Independent.
I've accepted my new size (though I of course struggle with it at times).
I've accepted that those who matter most will never, ever leave. And that there are some people will just be who they are and my only obligation is to either accept them as is or let them be.
This is the kind of purging I could get used to...and I don't think any member of the team would try to intervene.
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