I am a straight A student. I feel like I always have to have the answer. I feel like I have to know everything. I am embarrassed if I am not the smartest. I have perfect attendance. I do more than my fair share of homework and turn it in on time. This is the perfectionist in me. This is how I operate as a student. Perfectly.
In the past the first day of school is full of anxiety. What if I'm not the smartest? What if I don't have the answers? What if my pen runs out of ink? What if I'm late? What if I go to the wrong class? What if I don't already know everything? I walk fast to class. I'm an hour early (seriously). I check, double check, triple check my schedule to make sure I'm in the right place. I check, double check, triple check to make sure my phone is off. I sit with my clean, fresh notebook, waiting to take perfect Cornell notes. I don't talk to anyone, what if they interfere with my learning experience? I want to make a perfect first impression on the teacher. I sit there, waiting, "I'm perfect," I think, tapping my foot anxiously on the floor. I rearrange my desk so all the corners of papers are flush against each other, my sunglasses and water bottle are perfectly spaced, and I am ready. First one to class, I answer questions when no one else does, the pressure is on. I am the best.
I haven't been a student in years. Today as I walked to my first class it was clear to me that I've been working on self-acceptance, letting go of perfectionism, and embracing myself in the moment. As I walked to class, I noticed that I was not the fastest walker on campus. I was walking at a leisurely pace. I was in no rush to get to class, no rush to be the first one there, in no rush to prove that I'm perfect. "You have plenty of time. You will be on time. Do not worry. Everything is fine. Just because someone is walking faster than you does not make them a better student."
I noticed it in the way I grinned and took a deep breath as I walked through the doors into the main building. I didn't know anyone. I didn't view everyone as competition. I saw everyone as an ally, everyone as a potential friend. It was empowering to feel everyone's energy and knowledge and embrace that I benefit greatly from collaboration, from connection. Perfectionism always had me shutting people out.
I noticed it in the way I introduced myself to people as they walked into class. I noticed it in the way I didn't care about introducing myself to the class, making a perfect impression. I am who I am. I am knowledgeable, studious, excitable, and in school to learn. I do not know everything, I am not perfect, but I'm excited to be me and be a student again.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Power and competency
One of the reasons an eating disorder is so appealing is because it makes the affected individual feel unique, it gives them something that belongs to them and no one else. It's yours.
My eating disorder was my baby. It was my best friend. It knew me better than anyone, and I knew it- inside and out. My eating disorder made me feel powerful, competent, and in control. Little did I know, at the time, the behaviors are an illusion of control. The behaviors are an illusion of power. I am wildly out of control while the beast in my head is controlling everything.
At this point in my recovery, I'm actively trying to engage in activities that I know make me feel competent and powerful.
Power is the ability to do something of quality. Competence is the ability to do something successfully. My eating disorder, in many ways, made me feel both of these. Lately I've been noticing other experiences in my life that make me feel powerful and competent. They include:
Knitting!
Knitting has a calming effect on me. I can follow a pattern (which makes me feel competent), I figure out new stitches (which makes me feel powerful), I finish hats, gloves, scarves, cozies quickly (that makes me feel accomplished), and I give these knit items to people who I love (which connects me with others).
Mountain biking!
I ride the same trails frequently enough that I can feel my skills improving as the season goes on. Who knew riding bikes over rocks would be so fun and so empowering? I see a field of rocks or roots ahead of me, and have confidence in myself that I can roll my bike right through it. When I am still on top of my bike, after cruising through the rock garden, I am overwhelmed with pride and a sense of accomplishment. When I am out on the trails, I say "hi" to other riders, I am polite to hikers, often stopping to have conversations with them. This connects me with people and I always leave these conversations smiling, hoping the other outdoor enthusiast is smiling as well. This gives me the sense of connection that the eating disorder tried to take away. I set tangible goals while riding my bike. "I'm going to try to ride that one rock garden I've never ridden before." I accomplish them, and it feels so good. I feel powerful, competent. Real.
Tap dancing!
Tapping takes a ton of focus. It takes so much focus, I can't think of anything else while tap dancing. This is the kind of escape the eating disorder used to give me, yet tap dancing is a real, healthy behavior. A way to go into my escape zone, without turning to self-destruction. Here's the part that's intriguing to me: Tap dancing was always something my sister was the best at. It was my sister's. Soccer was my sister's, dance classes were my sister's. Growing up I felt like I didn't have anything I excelled at that I could call my own. Enter an eating disorder. Taking a tap dancing class, realizing, and saying out loud, "I'm really good at tap dancing," has been really hard for me because I feel like I'm entering back into sibling-rivalry-land. I calm myself, reassure myself, and remind myself that I can excel at something without having to compete with my sister. I can allow myself to be good at tap dancing. I can reclaim dancing as something that is mine. Every time I claim something as part of my identity, the eating disorder becomes less and less of my identity. I no longer rely on it for my identity. I learn a new step, add to an old step, make progress, feel my body execute the dance step, and feel a sense of power and accomplishment.
These are things that I can be proud of. This pride is more than I ever felt standing a scale as numbers dropped. Because this is real.Holding something I knit, made myself, is real. Rolling my bike over challenging obstacles is real. Hearing my feet execute a new dance step is real. In the last few months I've realized how important it is that I surround and keep myself busy with activities that give me a sense of power, pride, accomplishment, and competence.
My eating disorder was my baby. It was my best friend. It knew me better than anyone, and I knew it- inside and out. My eating disorder made me feel powerful, competent, and in control. Little did I know, at the time, the behaviors are an illusion of control. The behaviors are an illusion of power. I am wildly out of control while the beast in my head is controlling everything.
At this point in my recovery, I'm actively trying to engage in activities that I know make me feel competent and powerful.
Power is the ability to do something of quality. Competence is the ability to do something successfully. My eating disorder, in many ways, made me feel both of these. Lately I've been noticing other experiences in my life that make me feel powerful and competent. They include:
Knitting!
Knitting has a calming effect on me. I can follow a pattern (which makes me feel competent), I figure out new stitches (which makes me feel powerful), I finish hats, gloves, scarves, cozies quickly (that makes me feel accomplished), and I give these knit items to people who I love (which connects me with others).
Mountain biking!
I ride the same trails frequently enough that I can feel my skills improving as the season goes on. Who knew riding bikes over rocks would be so fun and so empowering? I see a field of rocks or roots ahead of me, and have confidence in myself that I can roll my bike right through it. When I am still on top of my bike, after cruising through the rock garden, I am overwhelmed with pride and a sense of accomplishment. When I am out on the trails, I say "hi" to other riders, I am polite to hikers, often stopping to have conversations with them. This connects me with people and I always leave these conversations smiling, hoping the other outdoor enthusiast is smiling as well. This gives me the sense of connection that the eating disorder tried to take away. I set tangible goals while riding my bike. "I'm going to try to ride that one rock garden I've never ridden before." I accomplish them, and it feels so good. I feel powerful, competent. Real.
Tap dancing!
Tapping takes a ton of focus. It takes so much focus, I can't think of anything else while tap dancing. This is the kind of escape the eating disorder used to give me, yet tap dancing is a real, healthy behavior. A way to go into my escape zone, without turning to self-destruction. Here's the part that's intriguing to me: Tap dancing was always something my sister was the best at. It was my sister's. Soccer was my sister's, dance classes were my sister's. Growing up I felt like I didn't have anything I excelled at that I could call my own. Enter an eating disorder. Taking a tap dancing class, realizing, and saying out loud, "I'm really good at tap dancing," has been really hard for me because I feel like I'm entering back into sibling-rivalry-land. I calm myself, reassure myself, and remind myself that I can excel at something without having to compete with my sister. I can allow myself to be good at tap dancing. I can reclaim dancing as something that is mine. Every time I claim something as part of my identity, the eating disorder becomes less and less of my identity. I no longer rely on it for my identity. I learn a new step, add to an old step, make progress, feel my body execute the dance step, and feel a sense of power and accomplishment.
These are things that I can be proud of. This pride is more than I ever felt standing a scale as numbers dropped. Because this is real.Holding something I knit, made myself, is real. Rolling my bike over challenging obstacles is real. Hearing my feet execute a new dance step is real. In the last few months I've realized how important it is that I surround and keep myself busy with activities that give me a sense of power, pride, accomplishment, and competence.
Monday, September 2, 2013
Embracing Boredom
A terrifying emotion for me is boredom. If I feel like I could become bored, or am worried about being bored, I get really anxious. Boredom, to me, means I'm not bettering myself or accomplishing things. I'm not out bettering the world. Boredom means I'm not busy perfecting myself. Boredom makes me feel worthless. As though I'm not contributing to the world.
As I know, negative emotions, including feeling worthless or imperfect lead me to engage in eating disordered behaviors. I've come up with many ways of covering up my boredom; disguising it, masking it, hiding it, swallowing it. I tell myself, "I'm not bored...Only boring people get bored." But I really want to tear my hair out, because I am so anxious, because if I'm not busy doing something, I feel worthless. Augh!
In my spare time, to keep myself from getting bored, I play. My playtime, for me, is time spent outdoors moving. It usually includes riding bikes, running, or skiing. I had to stop calling it exercise, because exercise sounds like a chore. Playtime is more of a privilege, something I engage in when I have energy and want to feel how that energy manifests itself while moving through the world. I love getting outdoors and breathing fresh air, running through the wilderness like a wild animal.
Due to the Rim Fire in Yosemite the smoke is so thick in the Lake Tahoe Basin, AIRnow.gov is rating the air quality "unhealthy for everyone." Not just "unhealthy for sensitive groups," it's "unhealthy for EVERYONE." The smoke has filled the basin for almost two weeks now, keeping us indoors, keeping us from our normal playtime patterns. And, you guessed it, I'M BORED.
I've read, knit, worked on training my dog, and I have terrible cabin fever. I'm working on processing boredom and everything that comes along with it.
First, I admit that I'm bored. It doesn't make me worthless. It doesn't make me imperfect. I have to keep telling myself to take each day (and each minute of each day) as it comes and I don't need to keep myself busy with exercise. I need to embrace the action of sitting, "doing nothing". I have to be okay with sitting still, reading a book, watching a movie, not going outside to exercise.
Second, I have to keep eating healthily even without my playtime. I use exercise to justify my eating habits. I still do this even after years in recovery; I base how much I eat on how much exercise I get. And right now, we can't go outside and play because it is "unhealthy for everyone," so I have to work on letting go of the notion that I can only eat if I'm exercising.
Gyms don't provide playtime, they provide exercise, and I find them triggering for me, so I haven't gone to a gym to get my wiggles out. I feel like I'm going crazy.
My goal for today is to finish this blog post and embrace my boredom. I will not let it rule me. I will not let my boredom shame me. I will not let my boredom make me feel guilty for existing. I will patiently wait for the skies to clear. I will watch movies and knit. I will appreciate the day off from work. I will journal. I will not frantically try to fill my time with cleaning. I will try not to label myself as bored, but rather enjoying a nice, relaxing day off from work. I will tell myself that I deserve to sit and think.
I deserve to take a few minutes of stillness.
As I know, negative emotions, including feeling worthless or imperfect lead me to engage in eating disordered behaviors. I've come up with many ways of covering up my boredom; disguising it, masking it, hiding it, swallowing it. I tell myself, "I'm not bored...Only boring people get bored." But I really want to tear my hair out, because I am so anxious, because if I'm not busy doing something, I feel worthless. Augh!
In my spare time, to keep myself from getting bored, I play. My playtime, for me, is time spent outdoors moving. It usually includes riding bikes, running, or skiing. I had to stop calling it exercise, because exercise sounds like a chore. Playtime is more of a privilege, something I engage in when I have energy and want to feel how that energy manifests itself while moving through the world. I love getting outdoors and breathing fresh air, running through the wilderness like a wild animal.
Due to the Rim Fire in Yosemite the smoke is so thick in the Lake Tahoe Basin, AIRnow.gov is rating the air quality "unhealthy for everyone." Not just "unhealthy for sensitive groups," it's "unhealthy for EVERYONE." The smoke has filled the basin for almost two weeks now, keeping us indoors, keeping us from our normal playtime patterns. And, you guessed it, I'M BORED.
I've read, knit, worked on training my dog, and I have terrible cabin fever. I'm working on processing boredom and everything that comes along with it.
First, I admit that I'm bored. It doesn't make me worthless. It doesn't make me imperfect. I have to keep telling myself to take each day (and each minute of each day) as it comes and I don't need to keep myself busy with exercise. I need to embrace the action of sitting, "doing nothing". I have to be okay with sitting still, reading a book, watching a movie, not going outside to exercise.
Second, I have to keep eating healthily even without my playtime. I use exercise to justify my eating habits. I still do this even after years in recovery; I base how much I eat on how much exercise I get. And right now, we can't go outside and play because it is "unhealthy for everyone," so I have to work on letting go of the notion that I can only eat if I'm exercising.
Gyms don't provide playtime, they provide exercise, and I find them triggering for me, so I haven't gone to a gym to get my wiggles out. I feel like I'm going crazy.
My goal for today is to finish this blog post and embrace my boredom. I will not let it rule me. I will not let my boredom shame me. I will not let my boredom make me feel guilty for existing. I will patiently wait for the skies to clear. I will watch movies and knit. I will appreciate the day off from work. I will journal. I will not frantically try to fill my time with cleaning. I will try not to label myself as bored, but rather enjoying a nice, relaxing day off from work. I will tell myself that I deserve to sit and think.
I deserve to take a few minutes of stillness.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
How It Affects Us
I've been reading many articles about Miley Cyrus' performance at the VMA's. I'm sure we all have. These articles have explained in beautiful detail how her performance was racist, progressive for bisexuality, a "grinding declaration of her adulthood".
I'd like to voice my own opinion on the performance without slut-shaming, without the usual "oh, how sad, look what sweet little Hannah Montana has turned into," but expressing what I experienced while watching videos of the performance.
I don't have television, I didn't see the VMA's live, so when the cyberspace exploded on Monday about this performance I started doing research, watching videos (I had to confirm my age several times to watch the performance), reading articles, and, as a feminist, here's what I have to say:
What do performances like Miley Cyrus' at the VMA's mean for the rest of us? First of all, I had to "urban dictionary" the term 'twerking' as it was in most headlines. Miley threw this move into her choreography many times in her performance. The shock value of this performance was frighteningly high, as I feel it is for most things in our culture currently. I feel like people are banking more and more on shock value to get attention. Everything has to have shock value or it goes unnoticed.
We can claim we are immune, that these acts don't affect us. But media (television, magazines, advertising, and especially pop stars) dictate our culture and set standards as to how the rest of us are supposed to act, and how we feel we are supposed to be living our lives.
Typical reactions to the performance:
Slut-shaming
Shaming the music
Claiming it's not music
Shaming Miley, herself ("What a hot mess")
Claiming, "This doesn't affect me..."
But it does...and here's how...
Because Miley's performance was so shocking, it affects the standards and 'ups the ante'.
How it affects me:
I'd like to voice my own opinion on the performance without slut-shaming, without the usual "oh, how sad, look what sweet little Hannah Montana has turned into," but expressing what I experienced while watching videos of the performance.
I don't have television, I didn't see the VMA's live, so when the cyberspace exploded on Monday about this performance I started doing research, watching videos (I had to confirm my age several times to watch the performance), reading articles, and, as a feminist, here's what I have to say:
What do performances like Miley Cyrus' at the VMA's mean for the rest of us? First of all, I had to "urban dictionary" the term 'twerking' as it was in most headlines. Miley threw this move into her choreography many times in her performance. The shock value of this performance was frighteningly high, as I feel it is for most things in our culture currently. I feel like people are banking more and more on shock value to get attention. Everything has to have shock value or it goes unnoticed.
We can claim we are immune, that these acts don't affect us. But media (television, magazines, advertising, and especially pop stars) dictate our culture and set standards as to how the rest of us are supposed to act, and how we feel we are supposed to be living our lives.
Typical reactions to the performance:
Slut-shaming
Shaming the music
Claiming it's not music
Shaming Miley, herself ("What a hot mess")
Claiming, "This doesn't affect me..."
But it does...and here's how...
Because Miley's performance was so shocking, it affects the standards and 'ups the ante'.
How it affects me:
- It affects the way I feel I need to dress
- What is appropriate to wear? The standards are changing now that a 20 year old can parade around in a gold bikini and rip off a furry leotard.
- It affects the way I feel people see me
- Do I need to act like that? Do I need to gyrate against the man who is in charge, to fit in?
- It reinforces women performing instead of experiencing
- In her book Reviving Ophelia, Mary Pipher explains that in adolescence, girls realize that in order to get what they want out of society, in order to fit in and not make waves, they begin performing instead of experiencing. They find out what others want from them and put themselves on display, take care of others needs, put others before themselves, perform, and become what others want them to be. They perform instead of getting in touch with their own wants, needs, and desires. Instead of taking care of themselves and experiencing their lives. Women become a display, we neglect ourselves and our experience to perform and fit in in order to survive. With her performance, Miley upped the ante. Imagine what her experience of that was like, if she had one at all. This further perpetuates the notion of women needing to perform instead of experience. She was completely on display, taking care of the man's needs, neglecting her own experience. If she was striving for her own, positive, experience I doubt she would be running around stripping leotards off, sticking her tongue out at the audience, and creating such a ruckus in the headlines.
- It makes me feel like I have to compete with THAT for attention
- Miley upped the ante of what is acceptable. How am I supposed to behave now? I'm not a prude, but she was so publicly sexual, it makes me question intimacy, and how our society is viewing intimacy now.
- It affects the way they dress
- "No, you may not wear that gold bikini and be Miley Cyrus for Halloween"
- It affects the way they feel they have to act
- Will twerking be the new norm at middle school dances (did I use that word right?)
- Her fan club is aging with her, "Are we supposed to act like that now? OMG!"
- She was wearing pigtails, dancing with teddy bears
- Which means she is still trying to act like a child. By behaving that way while adorned with a hairdo associated with younger girls, prancing around with teddy bears, she is sexualizing children and still trying to appeal to her younger crowd. She is terrifyingly reflecting child pornography. I think this was the most upsetting part of the performance for me, and I haven't seen it mentioned in any article anywhere.
- It confuses boys as to if that's what they're supposed to be attracted to
- It changes their expectations of women
- Adolescent boys are confused as to what sort of girls they should be giving attention to, what kind and how to give that attention. This performance gave a display of women that now boys may expect that sort of behavior from girls, that is confusing for men and women.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Taking Care of Cody
His ears perk up when I walk into the bathroom, as this is where I keep his food. He starts wiggling when he hears me scooping kibble into his bowl. A glucosamine pill and plenty of kibble are set in the living room and quickly scarfed down. Cody loves to eat.
Cody greets me when I get home from work. I open the door and see his nose poke around trying to get to me. He's wiggling, bumping into me, excited to see me. And, almost immediately, he's on his back "I love you I'm so glad to see you. Rub my belly."
Cody gets two meals a day, one with a glucosamine pill for his joints. Cody gets Dentastix. Cody gets brushed almost everyday. The house is littered with his toys. Cody gets two walks a day, no matter what. Cody gets caressed, pet, and loved. I tell him hundreds of times a day what a good boy he is and how much I love him.
Cody runs beside my bike, he stays out of the way of the wheels, and darts into bushes chasing squirrels. He runs up ahead, stops, and looks back at me, "I'm so glad we're biking today. Watch me run!" He checks in to make sure I'm still part of the pack and then takes off running through the woods. He drinks out of my Camelbak and takes breaks in the shade.
We went on a really long bike ride yesterday. It was much more than I bargained for. Cody ran the whole time. I watch him closely for signs of exhaustion and he didn't show any. Today Cody looks like he's hurting and I feel awful watching him hobble around like an old man. I know I pushed his limits yesterday and I am heartbroken about it.
I take really good care of Cody. I realize that the way I pushed Cody yesterday is reflective of the way I push myself in my daily life and am furious with myself for it.
I push myself well past the point of exhaustion on any given run or ride. I'll not eat sufficient nutrients to support my body during exercise. I won't eat nutrients to support daily activity and I'll expect my body to function normally regardless. In terms of self-care, I don't spend much time taking care of my needs, taking care of myself. I don't spend on positive, loving thoughts directed at myself. When I look in the mirror I am devastated by what I see and berate myself for not being thin enough, not having the perfect body.
Cody looks at me and sees nothing but positive energy coming his way. I take really good care of Cody: I brush him, feed him, walk him, make sure his water bowl is always full. All while I starve and dehydrate myself.
I need to start treating myself the way I treat Cody. I would never starve Cody or make him go without water. I would never assume his needs are unnecessary or unwarranted. I will never push him athletically the way I did yesterday. I take really good care of Cody. I spoil him because I love him. I wonder what my life would be like if I spoiled myself because I loved myself and believed I deserved it?
I would drink when I am thirsty. I would eat when I am hungry. I would cry when I am sad. I would run until I was tired and then STOP. I would look in the mirror and send loving energy to my body. I would acknowledge that I have needs. I would believe I deserved my needs to be met.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Remember that one time?
Having an eating disorder means your mind is occupied with thoughts of weight, calories, food, the size of your jeans, what you ate earlier, what you ate yesterday, and what you're going to eat later today. All the time. It's obsessive. It feels non-stop. Like an ipod of self deprecating thoughts on repeat. For those in this struggle these thoughts are everything. When I'm really struggling I judge everyday by how my jeans feel, what I did or did not eat. I judge everyday through the eyes of my eating disorder, and that's what makes up my life, what makes up my memories.
I've started to look around and see how other people judge their lives and create their memories. A phrase comes to mind. "Remember that one time?" I have a vision of people sitting around, laughing, reliving their greatest memories. "Remember that time Joey did a back flip off that bridge into the lake?" "Remember that huge party we used to throw every Fourth of July?" "Remember that one time...?" Fill in the blank. People are out there living their lives, existing without eating disorders. These are real memories. Real life.
I think of my memories and they include:
Remember that time those skinny jeans finally fit?
Remember that time I had to put a belt on cause my pants kept falling off?
Remember the first time you threw up?
Remember the first time you stepped on that scale?
Remember all those times you said, "I ate before I came"?
These don't count.
This is not a life lived to the fullest.
My latest goal is to start noticing all the times in my life I can laugh with friends and say, "Remember that one time...?" I want to start making real memories that have nothing to do with my weight, food, calories, or body size. My life needs to be full of activities that occupy my mind and keep me engaged in a healthy life.
When I look back on my life, I want it to count. What memories are you making?
I've started to look around and see how other people judge their lives and create their memories. A phrase comes to mind. "Remember that one time?" I have a vision of people sitting around, laughing, reliving their greatest memories. "Remember that time Joey did a back flip off that bridge into the lake?" "Remember that huge party we used to throw every Fourth of July?" "Remember that one time...?" Fill in the blank. People are out there living their lives, existing without eating disorders. These are real memories. Real life.
I think of my memories and they include:
Remember that time those skinny jeans finally fit?
Remember that time I had to put a belt on cause my pants kept falling off?
Remember the first time you threw up?
Remember the first time you stepped on that scale?
Remember all those times you said, "I ate before I came"?
These don't count.
This is not a life lived to the fullest.
My latest goal is to start noticing all the times in my life I can laugh with friends and say, "Remember that one time...?" I want to start making real memories that have nothing to do with my weight, food, calories, or body size. My life needs to be full of activities that occupy my mind and keep me engaged in a healthy life.
When I look back on my life, I want it to count. What memories are you making?
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Short post on Eating Disorder Awareness
I watched Matt Ryd's Eating Disorder Awareness video this morning and several things struck me. Watch it, it's beautiful and powerful. He brought ED awareness to me, someone who's had an eating disorder for 11 years. I am sorry to say we lost this powerful voice last week. Donations are being made in his name to NEDA and ANAD.
First of all, he had a quote that was powerful to me... "What?! I thought eating disorders were a teenage girl's disease." This hit home with me, because I'm 25 and still struggling with something I've been fighting since I was 8. Even in the last few weeks I've been thinking, "Geez, why haven't I outgrown this yet? Isn't this a teenage girl's disease?" I have to keep reminding myself, as Matt Ryd reminded me, eating disorders strike all age groups, all races, all genders, and all sexual orientations. That I'm not out of line in my struggles. That anyone can be struggling with an eating disorder and I am not alone. I have to remind myself the same thing with depression. I keep thinking to myself lately, "I feel like a melodramatic teenager. Shouldn't I have outgrown this by now?" Matt's video reminded me that depression can affect anyone, not just melodramatic teenagers. He reminded me that what I'm feeling is real, and validated my emotions and mood swings.
Even for someone who's struggled for most of their life, it takes a powerful, brave hero like Matt to stand up and remind me that I am not struggling alone. I am not alone in recovery. His quote, "You know someone with an eating disorder," was powerful to me, because I am not public about having an eating disorder. I often wonder how many people I could impact if I was public about my struggles and about my recovery process. Matt was brave, a hero, and an inspiration to continue on my road to recovery. Rest in peace.
First of all, he had a quote that was powerful to me... "What?! I thought eating disorders were a teenage girl's disease." This hit home with me, because I'm 25 and still struggling with something I've been fighting since I was 8. Even in the last few weeks I've been thinking, "Geez, why haven't I outgrown this yet? Isn't this a teenage girl's disease?" I have to keep reminding myself, as Matt Ryd reminded me, eating disorders strike all age groups, all races, all genders, and all sexual orientations. That I'm not out of line in my struggles. That anyone can be struggling with an eating disorder and I am not alone. I have to remind myself the same thing with depression. I keep thinking to myself lately, "I feel like a melodramatic teenager. Shouldn't I have outgrown this by now?" Matt's video reminded me that depression can affect anyone, not just melodramatic teenagers. He reminded me that what I'm feeling is real, and validated my emotions and mood swings.
Even for someone who's struggled for most of their life, it takes a powerful, brave hero like Matt to stand up and remind me that I am not struggling alone. I am not alone in recovery. His quote, "You know someone with an eating disorder," was powerful to me, because I am not public about having an eating disorder. I often wonder how many people I could impact if I was public about my struggles and about my recovery process. Matt was brave, a hero, and an inspiration to continue on my road to recovery. Rest in peace.
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