Final Installment of the Very Vacation-y Saga: Wandering Alone

I vacation on the East Coast alone. Of course, I was going to stay with and visit friends and family but I knew that no one had the time to entertain me. I spent time with others when they were available and the rest of the time I spent doing exactly what I wanted to. Of course, I had a list of all the things I wanted to do and see and merrily spent my vacation checking them off. I never anticipated the profound effect that this alone time would have on me.

The first thing I realized when I was wandering through Washington D.C. and New York was how important it is that people are able to spend time with themselves. I look back on my formative years living in one city or another with my young parents playing by myself. I'm very grateful for those hours that allowed me to explore to caverns of my own imagination. Tapping back into that quiet, curious side of ourselves is one of the healthiest ways we can honor our own thought-processes. There's also something to be said for being seen alone in public, especially in tourist areas. Go to a museum alone and watch the families and couples around you; sometimes it's like being on the outside of a fishbowl. Then stick your pinkie in and stir it around. It's fascinating how open to chat total strangers are, especially if you're a young woman who's only obvious goal is to see and hear. That's an important key to being alone: being willing to make friends. Because when you're alone you've got the power not to. You can be as autonomous, quiet, and shy as you please. Or you can strike up a conversation, make a new friend. You are singularly your own desires and actions. How often can we say that?

The most profound impact of my being alone during my vacation was actually the very succinct recognition that I didn't in fact feel alone. This hit me one rainy day when I was trying my best to make the most of another long, winding expanse of alone-ness. Sometimes it got me a little down: it's hard to entertain oneself in foreign cities (and on a tight budget) for days on end no matter how much one respects the time. On this particular day I trudged through the New York rain from cafe to cafe, waiting for something interesting to happen. As I walked along, the thought crossed my mind that I was lonely. But it dinged around like a marble in a hollow bowl. My mind told me that I should be lonely in that moment. My heart and soul didn't feel that way at all; they felt the power of something walking by my side, holding my hand in the most warm, pleasant manner. See, the whole time I was on my vacation I felt very spiritually connected to my divine entity, named Fate. Beware: the term "Fate" is a bit of a misnomer (to be explained in a later post). But I've taken to utilizing this ideology to express thank-you for all the great things, little and small, that happen to me and to ask for help when I need it. I've become very connected to this spirit-being. The whole time I spent alone I was acutely aware that this being was by my side. And I never once felt lonely.

In my Eating Disorders Anonymous group, we might call this a "Milestone."

Wandering alone on my vacation taught me a lot of things. It wouldn't be a full lesson on the self without revealing some of the darker sides of my psyche, as well. The problem with being alone on vacation when you're recovering from an eating disorder is that you've got a lot of space in your mind for disordered thoughts to infiltrate. My vacation was rife with little triggers: all the walking involved, extra time for working out, excuses for "tourist runs," lots of new and foreign foods, a tight budget, and a lack of social interaction. My meal plan was completely lost to wandering the city and trying whatever new foods struck my fancy. I'm proud of the many previously off-limits foods I indulged in. On the other hand, it was so easy to over-exercise, so easy to justify not spending money on snacks, so easy for my mind to tell me why this was OK. In retrospect, my trip highlighted one very important part of my eating disorder: it's effects are best mitigated by spending time involved with tasks and engaged with others. When I'm active and conversing I notice my hunger cues quickly. If I'm underfed I can't function in conversation, I get irritated and bored with tasks, I fumble through interactions, and I get headaches. When I'm alone I find it much easier to ignore or avoid these issues; I can float along in a sort of dream-state.

When I visited my nutritionist two weeks later I had lost a lot of weight. Nothing that I can't gain back but it was devastating all the same. The thing was, I knew it. I could feel it in my body, the way my clothes fit, the way I always seemed hungry and yet distrustful of that hunger. Just wait to eat, spread out your meals, maybe you'll eat less- that's what ED said. And I could feel it in my mind...sometimes, I didn't know where my mind even was.

Losing weight is a bad, bad thing when you're in recovery. If you give the ED space to take over it fills those mind-gutters like a monsoon in the summer. You've got to build up the levees and keep the thoughts at bay with a strong, clear head. I'm proud to say that I reached my first weight-gain goal and am (hopefully) nearing my second. At this pace I should be back where I need to be in a couple of weeks. It was scary and depressing but I'm determined not to let it get the best of me. Every time I feel the urge to restrict, I remind myself not to. It's my mind at stake.