Forgotten Brothers - Day 7

Today think about men who suffer from eating disorders. Either write from your experiences as a male ED suffer, from the point of view of a friend of a man suffering an ED or else imagine how the experience of an eating disorder and of recovery is different for men.

This topic is very difficult for me being that I try to write from my own experience and avoid projecting too much on others.  Not that I don’t have a ton of ideas and opinions about other people’s experiences but I’m guessing most, if not all of them, are inaccurate and sell others short.   The experience I do have is through relationships with men and it’s strange to reflect and see that after all these years in rehab and day treatments and group recovery, I don’t know very men who have admitted an eating disorder.  On top of that, I can only remember one man I knew when I was eighteen who admitted he was bulimic and I don’t recall ever having an anorexic male friend.  I participated in a sport where I know the bulimia and anorexia among males is much more common than in other arenas, so I am absolutely certain that I just didn’t notice.  It is sad to think that even from someone who watched and compared every little thing and every little habit of every girl, I didn’t see the men. 

I remember the man I knew with bulimia.  I remember we shared a lot of our pain and heartache with each other about the disease.  He was a lifeguard at the pool that summer and a wrestler all throughout high school.  He told me how his weight struggles has begun as a young kid but that his bulimia kicked in when he had to do weigh ins before wrestling matches.  At eighteen, without a sport to pursue any longer, he couldn’t stop binge purging.  He had lost the ability to control his intake and his absolute need to vomit afterwards.  I totally understood his disease and related to his behavior, but I could not console him at all.  I remember that the loneliness he talked about sounded slightly different than mine.  He called himself a freak and told me he wasn’t much of a man and that he was weak.  I believe these were feelings that came from being a man with a disease hidden from the world as an ‘acceptable ailment’.  It was heart wrenching to listen to his stories but I’ve never forgotten.  I have coached kids since that show all the signs, most were wrestlers at some point and divers with me.  The approach I have taken is simple education, nothing personal.  I might need to think about whether or not that’s even supportive.  If they’re suffering, they may feel like lonely week ½ man freaks. 

I admit I have been part of the forgetting crowd.  Today, I strive to join the support reaching out to my forgotten brothers and to meet any hand asking for help in the future.  You are not alone.  We have the same illness and recovery is possible for all of us.

Dear Doctor - HFC Day 6

Write a letter to a medical professional (general or mental health) or write an advert for a medical professional. What do you need from them? What don’t you need from them? What matters to you? Use your own experiences if you feel able to do so.

Wow, I wish I had a few days to look at this one.  What a great topic.  I have seen so many professionals, and I believe all of them did the best they could to help me find health.  I am sad to say that I believe the majority, with few exceptions, did me more harm than good.  That sounds harsh and I admit that it is harsh, but it is my truth.  I also know in my gut that I would not be where I am today without each and every professional affecting my life in exactly the way they did at the time that they did.  Just thought I’d get that out of the way before I began.  Here we go….

Dear MP,

First, I would like to say thank you.  Thank you to all of you who took my case, who fought for me when I could not fight for myself, who pushed me to look within, who told me I was good enough, who encouraged me to continue living, who locked me up when I was not safe, who welcomed me back after I strayed, who wanted me to live more than I willed to live myself.   Without you there would be no me.  Thank you.

Secondly, I have some feedback to offer you after all these years.  I know as professionals you know that this is only my experience but perhaps you see cases like me more often than once a lifetime.  I’m willing to bet you see cases like me quite a bit actually.  So maybe, just maybe, you’ll find some use in my feedback.  I had such a loud head when I came to you for help.  It seemed like most of your exercises made those noises louder.  I guess I don’t really understand why you looked so hard and dug so deep to find the reasons.  I mean I was in pain and instead of finding something to help me out of that pain, you encouraged me to find more so that I could find where all that pain started.  I must say it was wonderful to think that I could find a fall guy or thing or whatever.  I’m sure you’re not surprised to hear this elusive fault entity was never found.  What you might not guess is that a lot of people and a lot of me was hurt trying to find it.  We, you and me MP, pointed fingers trying to catch targets.  Well, I have news for you-  My parents didn’t abuse me.  My siblings didn’t leave me out.  I was not bullied.  My coaches were tough and I appreciated that.  My talents were treated as gifts, and I was no dog and pony show.  People didn’t call me stupid nor did/do I feel stupid.  I was and always will be loved.  I AM NOT A VICTIM!!!  I get it.  I get that these things could have been big deals for a girl showing my symptoms, but they just weren’t for me.  So, at some point I implore you to stop digging!  I mean sure, I had some skeletons in the closet and I had to look at some of those.  Great.  So what?  I had uncovered all of them within probably the first couple months of therapy and over a decade later nothing new had surfaced, nothing from my past anyway.  Plenty of new demoralizing, painful, tragic moments had come from my behavior and my obsession with disease, addiction and death.   I was also now a bona fide Axis II Borderline Personality Disorder.  One diagnosis I can absolutely see as accurate.  I had learned it all in the groups, the institutions and the rehabs that were supposed to help me.  I knew how to stay sick, to play sick, to welcome sick, to love sick.  Why in the world did you keep digging into my first 10 years of life at this point?  I mean where was the hope?  Where was the celebration of the life I was living in the moment you were sharing it with me?  Where was the direction for some contrary action?  Pity was what I felt from you in my last five years of ED.  Pity.  Does that ever help anyone break free of emotional, physical and spiritual bondage?  Really?  I mean you’re not even joining me in the conversation at that point.  You’re just nodding, writing prescriptions, agreeing with the crap hole that was my life, and the impossibility of me finding recovery.  This was supposed to move me towards health?!!!  I’m sorry, I just don’t see it.  

Thirdly, I will admit that I was never fair to you.  I never told you the whole truth.  I wanted to be taken care of and becoming healthy meant independence and independence was utterly terrifying to me because it meant you wouldn’t take care of me.  I was so afraid to live my life that I didn’t allow you to help me begin to re-enter it.  I allowed you to help me stay sick.  I purposefully served you plate-fulls of misery so you would lock me in psych wards and care for me 24 hours a day.  I shattered myself into tiny pieces so that I would remain forever broken, and so you would forever attempt to repair me.  Thank you for being my support for so long.  Without you, I would have had to use more desperate, louder methods to attract help, and I probably would have died in the process.

Finally, I will tell you what I hope you will do with the next ‘me’ that comes your way.  Challenge me.  Tell me to stop thinking about myself and my problems so much and to go and help other women the way I keep telling you I’m called to do.  Contradict me.  Tell me I am wrong when I call myself ugly.  Tell me you see me differently than I see me and that you believe someday I will agree with you too.  Tell me to stop the pity party and start using my gifts, my voice, my light.  Cry with me please.  Cry with me because crying heals and when you cry with me you allow me to go out from you refreshed, energized and understood.  Celebrate my family and my talents.  Tell me to spend time with them and to help them at those family parties.  To show up for life by giving some life to those I love.  Tell me to dance and sing and craft and laugh with my family.  Tell me to celebrate me and to allow my family to do the same.  Teach me to give compliments and to accept them with honesty and grace.  Oh, and one more thing, hug me when I leave your office (That’s for Rita and Lou Ann – thank you).

Again, thank you all who saw me to this place I am today.  Make no mistake, without you there would be no me.  Keep therapising, doctoring, and dieticianing.  You do save lives!!

Love from, Fran

Top Five of Me - HFC Day 5

Whether you have body image issues or not, eating disorders attack the body. Write today, whether poetry, list, stream of consciousness or whatever way you choose about what you appreciate your body for, what parts of your body you treasure most and why.

My top five body appreciation parts:

(Hahahaha! Who would have ever thought I’d be writing something like this?!!!!  I remember all the times they asked me for just one good thing about myself and even with suggestions I couldn’t do it!  Now, I whittled my list to five in order to save my wrists and hands on the typing because I have three entries to write - I take the weekend off from writing.  Anyway, when I wrote the title with a giggle, it just  struck me as such a miracle/gift/oddity.  I’m looking forward to this.  What?!!  J)

1. My feet – I’ve always liked my feet.  This one stands at number one because I can’t really remember a time that I HATED my feet.  I don’t know if I can say this about any other part of my body.  My feet have been true companions if you will.  I did break my big toe a couple months ago and it was extremely ugly but it’s almost back to normal.  Still a little on the swollen side but I’d say all in all… my feet are still pretty cute.  Also, my feet are pretty amazing, functionally speaking.  I have excellent balance, strong toes and pretty decent flexibility in my toes.  How cool that I can dive the way I can much thanks to my feet!
2. My hair – Now this was in top competition for the number one spot because my hair has provided hours upon hours upon hours of pure entertainment.  I love playing with my hair and creating funky do’s and trying on different colors.  My sister encouraged me to be a hair dresser for a long time because I have so much fun with it.  She and I used to have races to see who could French braid our own hair the fastest, then backwards, then inside out.  I once made an affirmation art therapy scrapbook for an assignment and title it ‘Crazy Hair’.  I still have it.  My hair has spoken to my personality, my mood, my acceptance or rebellion, my self-worth and altogether me over the years.  My hair is an expression and I love expressing me.
3. My hips – Yeah and it’s number 3!!!  I never, ever thought I’d appreciate my hips.  I fought against my hips.  I put my hands over them as if cutting off that section of my body when I looked in the mirror praying they would disappear one day.  You know the drill.  I just wanted them cut off.  Well today that’s not the case.  One thing I’ve learned in recovery is to love other women.  In turn, I’ve learned to love myself as a woman.  This did not happen overnight nor did I consciously work on, getting rid of the fear of having a woman’s figure.  The hatred of my hips kinda just slowly but surely faded into the background.  Then, after a time, I started to see beauty in them.  Amazing.
4. My tummy – My tummy is my signal.  It signals when I’m straying from my course.  Warning, warning, warning!  Any mind games or food games I play, I will recognize the consequences of them in my tummy.  Whether that’s in the form of feeling bloated, seeing new weight added, having cramps, having gastrointestinal problems or feeling empty and flat, it will reveal where I’m at with my body image and my abstinence.  It’s a gift really.  I don’t have to wonder what’s up with me for too long before my tummy tells all. Heehee.
5. My shoulders – I’m strong.  My shoulders are broad, yet feminine.  I love my strength and athleticism and find a quiet comfort in that.  I love that my shoulders allow me to carry a posture of confidence and openness.  I pull my shoulders back, open my eyes and welcome the world in.  And it’s so, so beautiful.  

Enjoy Your Body - it's the only one you've got!!!  YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL!

Hungry for Change - Days 4, 2, 1

My ED…

Recovery…

This has been a powerful exercise for me.  It felt difficult, if not impossible, to depict what my disease and recovery really are to me in just a few words.  I wrote a bunch of random thoughts and feelings and arranged and rearranged words.  As I did, I found that I was really digging into the core messages of my disease and recovery.  My eating disorder started as a thing in which to find refuge, but quickly became nothing short of a living and very lonely hell.  The details are of no importance, that’s the core and ugly truth of the disease for me.  I was hoodwinked and then I was trapped.  I became resigned to my disease.  I knew sickness was all there was for me and I would die alone.  Heavy stuff.  Recovery is light.  My friend likes to say “wear recovery like a loose garment”.  I get it.  There is so much freedom in recovery and in being able to move in whatever direction I please.  I can do this because I’m secure in the beauty of my recovery, and in the amazing examples and support I have all around me. I don’t fear it all falling apart because what sense would that make?  I couldn’t figure out how to add a very well used mantra of mine to my slogan without making it too long, but it really does represent my hope and faith in recovery.  

In the voice of something bigger I hear, “I didn’t bring you this far just to drop you on your ass!”

When I’m in fear, when I think I need fixing, when I want a fix, when I’m too tired, when I can’t see the solution, I remember that I am never alone.

Weighing in briefly on my missed days…

1. I have faith and hope today. 
2. The freedom to dance. 
3. Being Auntie Frannie Fran Fran.
4. I LOVE my family.  I LOVE people.  I get to experience life with others.
5. I have my giggles back.
6. Women are special and priceless and I get to learn from other women today.
7. I trust in change today.  I pray for growth.
8. I ENJOY parties and banquets and holidays!
9. I have a purpose today.
10. I am alive and life is good.

One reason – I want everyone to hear and know

RECOVERY IS POSSIBLE

Fixing Fear with Food

For a girl who once lived every single day wondering where, how, when and how much I could binge and purge so that I could relieve the excruciating pain in my heart and quiet the noise in my head, it seems strange to say I’m having any trouble at all with food today.  But for a girl who lived 15 plus years in the throws of bulimia, I can’t afford to decide I’m just the same as every other woman out there worried about body image and dieting.  This isn’t because I’m such an abnormal eater today or that I’m in a constant battle with food and weight because that’s just not true.  I enjoy a great deal of freedom in my meal plan and certainly ‘look’ normal in my approach to food.  People appear almost shocked when I do share my eating disorder story with them.  The reason I cannot afford to say I am a ‘normal’ food person is because that’s just not true either.  If I begin to playing with my food, adjusting portions to fit into a new size jean or feel better around certain people, I’m playing with my life.  If I allow myself one day of restricting, one binge, one purge, I’m opening a whole box of crazy, and there’s no telling if it will close again, ever.  I know how fast and hard I fall when I go there and in a very short time most everyone can see I have changed.  They might not know it is food that’s striking me psycho, but they know something is seriously wrong. 

So I am struggling with food lately and it’s really affecting my body image.   Interesting now that I wrote that, I don’t know which came first.  You see, my husband and I moved across town a few months ago, and I have been uncharacteristically shy around new people since.  I feel such a powerful loneliness even when surrounded by a hundred folks in recovery and I have frozen up and closed myself off.  So I show up and am in my head at meetings and gatherings thinking that everyone is judging me… BY THE WAY I LOOK.  Danger, Danger, Danger!!!   I don’t know about you but if people are just going to judge me by what I look like and decide from that if I’m good enough to talk to, I better look super duper uber HOT!!!!  I have no idea how much better I need to look to get to superduperuber, but I know darn well I’m not even close.  That’s enough for me to start the mental tirade against my own body and overall self worth.  I’m not pretty enough.  I’m not skinny enough.  I’m not fit enough.  I’m not good enough.  I’m not what I used to be.  I’m a failure.  I SHOULD FIX THIS.  If I can be skinny and fit and drop dead gorgeous again, THEN people will talk to me and like me and THEN I can be happy and outgoing again.  THEN I can be me again.  

The temptation to actually act on the barrage of criticisms in my head has been extraordinary.  I have felt the extra bites, the skipped breakfasts, the late night eating that I really, really wish would just fix my discomfort.  I want to believe my screaming head that says I can fix it with food, because that seems the quicker way.  Thankfully, I have been taught to seek the truth in all things before I act out of desperation and before I go on a full scale binge or purge or start weighing myself multiple times a day.  So, I took some time today to find the truth through all the bullshit in my brain and found it fairly quickly.  The truth is that change is really hard, and I am uncomfortable.  That’s it!  I have not recently become ugly or gross or less than or incapable of forming new friendships.  Nothing about the funny, outgoing, grace-filled, caring, friendly, recovering woman I am has changed.  I simply don’t like feeling vulnerable and am afraid of rejection.  Duh, I’m human.  So after two weeks of internal turmoil and self deprecating thoughts, I can see that my perception of myself, my own worth and my security were knocked off balance by the fear of change.  I will ask to be put back to center now and smile into the mirror a few times today in gratitude of the woman I see looking back.

 

Maybe this week I’ll play a different tape when I go to meetings that says, “I’m okay and what you think of me is none of my business anyway so what’s your story?”

Related Posts:  So little talk of food