From Kryptonite to Secret Weapon

Yesterday, I had a coming-to-Jesus moment with my therapist. The scripture? "Thou shalt admit thine still has an eating disorder, and if thine wants to recover, thou must drop all silly actions, ASAP." She was right, but that didn't make the pill any easier to swallow, and I've been gulping ever since.

Yesterday marked the one-week point of my having been in PHP. When reflecting upon the last week, the extent to which my eating disorder permeated my thoughts and actions is evident. In treatment we like to celebrate the successes, so I will start by saying that I conquered many fears last week (confronting the group, finding new coping strategies to get through urges, spaghetti and ice cream, a triggering outing, solo meditation). Yet, these successes did not bring me the deep satisfaction and pride from successes past. Some dark creature was gnawing on them in the back of my mind.

That dark creature was all the ways I was allowing ED to dictate me. In PHP we have little 10-15 minute breaks throughout the day and two long breaks in the morning and before dinner. Every break presents to me the overwhelming opportunity to go out and move around. Sometimes, I can deny those urges, staying inside, limiting the scope of my movement, or practicing mindfulness techniques (like meditation). However, each break is it's own beast, and in reality I can find far too many excuses to move.

I haven't felt like myself in a week. Actually, I haven't felt like myself in a year and a half. For a snippet of time in IP/RES, though, I started to feel really good. I felt connected to my inner creativity and those around me; I felt strong, inspired, and motivated. And I was sitting still. I haven't felt like myself this past week because I haven't been acting as myself; I've been acting as ED. My subconscious was trying to tell me, but I just kept walking right past it.

Because of my actions, I can expect an increase in my meal plan this week. I probably haven't gained any weight. My therapist explained just how important it was for me to reach the maintenance stage (my goal weight): that's when I can actually learn my own hunger cues, work on body image and practice healthy exercise. The need to rectify the week's damages, both physical and emotional, have made me feel disappointed in myself, guilty, unworthy and weak. The battle rages on.

When I explained all of this to my mother, she completely identified with me. When she got pregnant with me she was in a toxic relationship with my biological father. She was depressed, desperate, and operating in combat mode, acting in a way completely contrary to her basic character. She said, "I looked at you and realized that, in order to be a good mother, I had to stop." She broke relations with my biological father and became the best mother on the planet.

In a sense, I was my mother's kryptonite: she was living a life a lot like someone with ED, using habits to function, rather than listening to emotions and acting by values. The relationship with my biological father was kryptonite to her life, the toxic demise of even the strongest superhero. I represented their union.

And then, my mom made a change. She saw the kryptonite and decided that it could be a secret weapon. Through me she discovered her values and committed to living her life by them. She admits how difficult it was, and that she still struggles today. But when she starts to feel the walls closing in, she reminds herself that she will never go back to that way of living.

Right now, ED is my kryptonite. I have the opportunity to turn it into a secret weapon, but I must commit to the struggle. I know my values. I want to recover. So it's time to call out the big guns. I am Superwoman; KAPOW!