Last night, I really needed to journal. It's been well over a year since I have actually written anything in my journal or a journal for that matter but I decided that I needed to last night. I reached in my nightstand where about 10 journals live. Some of them are full while others were forgotten about after a few entries. I didn't care which journal I chose as long as there was a free page. When I opened that spiral bound art pad that I had converted into a journal, pictures fell into my lap. Pictures are a great way to bring back fond memories. There was a picture of my Granny (great grandmother) with some of my cousins before I was born. There was also a picture of me when I was 5 and I am sitting in my Saints shirt on the kitchen floor with my arm around my dog, Spanky. Then there were those pictures… You know, "sick" pictures. And with those pictures come memories. But the memories are much different than the memories I feel when looking at my Granny. The memories I feel when I see pictures of me when I was struggling with an eating disorder are so much different. See, when I see those pictures, I am not triggered by how I sick I was. I experience so many emotions: happiness, sadness, anger. But mostly, I look at that picture and I can tell you exactly what I was thinking and feeling at that moment. I cannot do that when I look at 5 year old me next to my dog, Spanky. This picture in particular is the one attached to the note. I was 19 years old and had taken my 12 year old sisters to the zoo. I am also wearing their clothes… When I see this picture, I remember thinking that if I spent the day with my younger sisters and took them to the zoo that it would mean I was a good big sister. I thought that by doing things like that I was earning that title. I had always wanted to be the best big sister for them and when I got sick, there was so much guilt. Even though my eyes are covered with shades, I can feel the guilt in my eyes when I look at this picture. The desire to be perfect and not accept that the eating disorder was a problem.
I don't have many pictures from those days. I tried to get rid of them or I avoided them as much as possible. I don't care to share them (usually) when I do find them because I don't want to possibly trigger someone that may be struggling. I don't want images of me while I was sick to be glorified in any way. (Sadly there are online communities where pictures are displayed for that reason). However, when I saw this picture last night and felt those emotions, I was also overcome with happiness. Happiness because I never imagined I would recover. It didn't seem possible and I couldn't wrap my mind around the thought that I would not struggle with this until the end. And I was willing to accept what the end could have been. This Spring marks 5 years that I have been recovered. It also marks 3 years since I have moved to Texas. Moving to Texas, I am sure so many people were worried about that transition. Even though I had been recovered for 2 years, I tend to struggle or relapse with a big change in my life. But things are different now. The friends I made when I first moved to Texas have helped me more than they will ever know. Immediately after moving, I joined a running group called The Runners of Arlington.
When I moved to Texas, I began running with these people and loved it. I still remember my first run, I called my Mom after with so much excitement to tell her about it. Not only did I run with the Runners but we hung out together. We had parties together. Sunday Fundays. Pho lunch dates. Basically, I had a normal & healthy life. Any time I have an ED thought, I immediately think about my normal and healthy life. If, even for an instant, I think about acting out on a behavior (believe me, they come), I remind myself of my normal and healthy life. You cannot have a normal and healthy life while living with an eating disorder. You can't have a normal life while living with an eating disorder. You can't have a healthy life while living with an eating disorder.
My normal and healthy life are what keep me on track. I am not willing to give these things up ever again. I recently read a story in the blog section of the Huffington Post called "A Tale of a Recovering Anorexic". Something that really stood out to me and I can relate to is what she says about running:
"What I didn't expect, though, was that running would forever alter my relationship with my body. As I ran harder and longer and pushed myself to greater goals, I developed a new identity. I saw myself as a runner, as an athlete. I wasn't running (primarily) to stay thin but to hit new PRs or train for an upcoming race. Now, the thought of burning away last night's ice cream or this afternoon's salad wasn't my motivation; the feeling of strength, of powerful legs carrying me through mile after mile, was.
Even more impressive, though, was my shifting perception of food. Training leaves you hungry -- real hungry. I'm talking ravenous, bottomless pit, stash two Power Bars in my purse kind of hungry. As an anorexic, I would have suppressed those feelings, totaled my calories, and decided to drink an iced coffee or two. But as a recovering anorexic, my thoughts were different. While they would begin at suppression, they would change course and remind me that food was my fuel. Without it, my running days would come to an end and my months of hard work would have been for not. And with that I'd pick up my fork (or spoon, or hands) and eat anxiety free. Ironically, the one activity that is so intertwined with eating disorders, mine included, was the key to my psychological freedom."
I love that because when I moved to Texas, I really believe that joining the running group and making those friendships is what helped me to not think twice about going back to the comfort of the eating disorder.
Of course I couldn't just leave the picture as is. I wanted to attach a picture of me recently. I like this picture because it shows strength and what I can accomplish with determination. I hope to one day have the picture of me on the right fall out of my journal and know that I tried my hardest and that means it was my very best.
