Glass Room

Everything is so unfamiliar. She is walking around in this room which she has been in for most of her life yet today every step seems like she is walking on new ground. From one corner of this room to the next, she glances around and it’s as if this is all new. The walls are glass. She places her palm on the wall and suddenly realizes that people are outside. Her heart beats faster and but her mind is still. Blankly she stares. The smiles on their faces are showing emotions unknown to her. As she backs away, there appears a door. She runs to the door as if she knows what is behind it, but knowing in her heart that she needs to find out, she runs; but she can’t open the door. She starts to hear dull laughter from the people outside and starts to cry. How did she end up here? How long has she been here? Why does this room seem comfortable yet confining? She cries and dwells on these questions. Then, someone opens the door. A few people walked in and paced the length of the room. Empty and cold. They try to speak with her but she can’t understand. How long has she been here? There is something unique about their eyes; she wants what they have but can’t voice her need. The people come and go; watch and speak and this girl does nothing but look at them with concern. What are they thinking? Why can’t she understand? What is outside this room?

At once, everyone leaves. She gets up, touches the glass wall, and dreams. Why were the people outside so much different than her? Why are their eyes different? Why do they laugh? What do they say? She braces the fear and opens the door and takes a step outside the room of glass. The air is different. Took a deep breath in and she felt her heart beat. It wasn’t beating so fast but not slow. Steady her heart beats. A person that had tried to talk to her numerous times before came to her side. She trembles and for the first time someone is at her side. It’s scary but comforting at the same time. This person starts to speak but this time she understands a few words.

A group of people run up to her side at this time. She feels weak; trys to speak but can’t. Their voices are downed out by the thoughts in her head. Should she have left her room? Is it better to see things from the outside instead of being in them? When she was in her room all she saw what was present; now that she walked out she can remember moments… she remembers very specific situations she witnessed from inside her room. The glass allows her to see what is happening outside. She cannot stand the noise. The noise starts to replay in her head now. “Focus, focus,” the people say to her. Who are these people? Why am I out here? How can they handle the noise? Her legs shake as she turns around grabbing the frame of the door. If she can just get back to her room, it won’t be so loud.

RE: Hugs

“I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it so much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break. Even now, when people lean down to touch me, or hug me, or put a hand on my shoulder, I hold my breath. I turn my face. I want to cry.” –Marya Hornbacher ( Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia)

This entrance is mainly a continuance of a recent blog post called “Hugs.” I stated how a simple hug could possibly help me recover and how it is something I want but am somewhat fearful of at the same time.

Recently I hung out with a friend of mine. I’ve known him for around 7 years and although I don’t see him a lot we can always get together and have fun and it is if we never were apart. This guy knows a lot about me for not seeing me often… we don’t even talk often and somehow he knows things I haven’t even said.

After hanging out together with some friends we off by ourselves and ended up sitting outside on this couch… it was unbelievable. This guy saw right through everything. He sat right close next to me and said everything I fear. I was able to speak about my ed without feeling judged. He didn’t try to change me or yell at me to change my thinking. He listened.

Later he took me back to my car and went for a hug which he knows I dislike and I backed off at first but gave a hug. We started talking about that- hugging. And it was an awkward conversation… I told him how I hate hugging but its something I need more often. He then pulled me toward him and held me tight till I relaxed. I wanted to cry.

This all sounds so lame coming from me. But that had to be one of the best moments ever. He knew I didn’t want it, but I needed it. I thank God for that moment. I hadn’t felt that wonderful in a long time. I felt cared for that night. He cared. He was everything I needed in that moment.

Sounds so dramatic but I’ve just never had that. It was one of the best moments ever.

Thoughts and feeling/ Lies and Truth

(lies)

Thoughts and Feelings:

I can’t do this. Hell, I can’t do anything.

How am I supposed to take care of someone else when I can’t take care of me.

I can’t handle all these classes. Its all so unfamiliar.

I can deal with the ED… I can just manage it until I move out or when I get older and then I will get the help I need.

I shouldn’t have told anyone about this ED. I would’ve been better off.

You won’t amount to anything.

You’re friends think you are too much trouble. They would be better off if you didn’t talk to them.

How will you cope? How will you feel okay?

I need to be alone.

Lifes too much for you. Some people just aren’t cut out for it.

Maybe if they just notice how sick you are you will be able to get help. Maybe they will care.

If I just let ED take over I’ll finally reach my full potential. Maybe then I will discover my love for life.

Its intriguing seeing how far down you can go.

Really? More sugar?

Ed isn’t something you can quit or fail at.

You have to get worse how else will God save you?

(truth)

I can do this. Things I set my mind to can be done.

Taking care of someone else will give you joy! Remember how you love helping others?

Its five classes. You can do it. Remember you made it through your AP GOV class. That was like law school. Remember all the work you did your senior year? AP gov, calc, English… you can do this.

Deal with it now, don’t wait. You can’t afford that.

Its good you told someone. You’ve grown in your relationship with God because of it. Would you rather live in ignorance?

Hey, you are already the child of God.

Your friends would’ve left you a long time ago. They have fun with you. They laugh with you. They are here to stay.

Prayer.

You need people.

Jesus died so you could have life. He thought you could handle it.

They’ve seen you sick.  They wont help. Let go of that. Get better despite them.

Only with God can you reach your full potential. Remember when you are really into your ED how unhappy you are and how much life sucks? Remember how it was hard to get out of bed? That’s not a girl who loves life.

How about you see how far up you can go?

One more m&m is not going to make you gain 5 pounds. Its not the end of the world.

ED can kill you.

Hes already saved me. <3

What if I said give up?

What if I were to tell you give up? What if I were to tell someone who has hit bottom give up on you? That is a terrifying thought, right? Who in their right mind would tell a troubled person at their worst moment to give up on themselves?

Now what if I told you, “give up on yourself, therefore all you can do is look toward God.” If you were to give up your desire, your truths, your everything, and gave up to God? How would it change things? Would I feel free? Would I be lost? Would being lost be better than believing in myself?

I realized this past week that I have made God into something small. I believed that He could not heal me of this disorder. I was too sick to save. But I was special, everyone else can be rescued from the point they are at but not me. I was God’s one exception.

But as I hit a low this week, where I felt exhausted and tired of dealing with all the health problems ED brings about I felt a little hopeless. I lay on my floor, cried and told God I can’t keep doing this. I just want to give up on everything. The world is too much. Adulthood is something I never asked for. Making decisions is something I can’t do. Functioning is becoming way too hard. I wanted to give up on life. And as I continued thinking about what giving up meant I realized I could give up on me. I would be okay with giving up on me. But there is no way I could give up on God. He’s too great. He loves me too much. I pondered this thought for a few days. What does it mean to give up on you but not on God? Is that even possible?

I came to the conclusion, however, that it is possible. I could give up everything and just let God control my life and lead me where He needs me to be. I’m giving up trying to be the best. I’m giving up feelings. I’m giving up trying to make all my dreams come true. Why am I doing that? Because obviously feelings/ trying to be perfect/ chasing after the wind is getting me nowhere and causing me lots of harm. Maybe giving up and allowing God to work will be just what I need. He can do what I can’t. I can’t function on my own; I need His help to do so. Its freeing… giving up on me means giving up my disorder and trusting God will change my mindset since that is impossible on my own it seems.

It’s time for God to lead… the God that wants the best for me, something better than I could ever dream of. It’s time for me to be totally submissive to God who is so much bigger than my problems.

Making a step now to pray more and get into the Word more. Lately I’ve been writing down my prayers which I recommend. It helps my mind not wander and helps me not dwell on topics and looking back through written prayers I can see subtle changes in my thinking and see where God has answered prayers.

How great is our God, that even hitting a bottom I’m not alone and can go to someone who genuinely cares. Ptl.

Hugs.

Since I can’t sleep I decided to write down what I’m thinking in hopes that as I lay down my mind will stop repeating scenes.

“I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it so much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break. Even now, when people lean down to touch me, or hug me, or put a hand on my shoulder, I hold my breath. I turn my face. I want to cry.” –Marya Hornbacher ( Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia)

I think of this quote quite often.

Sometimes when I am struggling with my ED, all I want is someone to sit down with me… make me just sit still for one moment and say I am here for you and give me a hug. Even thinking about that makes me cry. Sometimes I think that would make all the difference in recovering.

I have had people- acquaintances, who have giving me a quick hug, which always makes me uncomfortable but that isn’t what I want. A hug is supposed to show someone you care. Now that I’m thinking about it there have only been a few times where someone has hugged me and it actually meant something.

Maybe this is why I miss therapy. Maybe this is why I miss A New Beginning. Even though I wasn’t there for too long I felt cared for. For the first time in a long time I felt as if people cared. They didn’t really know me… but as I told my nutritionist I had to stop going there and I was saying goodbye. She got up and gave me a hug. Not that one arm, as you are leaving, type hugs… she held me tight and told me that she and my treatment team cared. I cried.

I cry now. Thinking the only hugs I have received that have done what they should was by therapists (my first therapist hugged me too which is odd now that I think about it. I told her I didn’t like people touching me.)

Maybe it isn’t even the treatment that I wanted or that I miss. Maybe I miss being cared for.

Hug someone. Maybe it’ll be a difference.

Blog Carnival: Weight stigma I

This blog post is written for Voice in Recovery WeightStigma Blog Carnival. Throughout the next month or two in preparation for the National Weight Stigma Awareness Week (September 26-30) Voice in Recovery (and Binge Eating Disorder Association) is having a blog carnival where everyone can share their experiences and bring about awareness on the topic of Weight Stigma. Please visit the website and join in the Blog Carnival!

Stigma. Stig-ma. Stig-muh.

1.       A mark of disgrace or infamy; a stain or reproach, as on one’s reputation.

2.       A mental or physical mark that is characteristic of a defect or disease.  (dictionary.com)

Personally, I don’t hear the word stigma a lot; but when I do it’s usually used when talking about taboo subjects, in my anthropology classes, or when talking about mental illnesses. You hear about different social stigmas but one I (and I’m assuming the public) do not really hear about is weight stigma. That’s right; I said it, weight stigma.

There are various times in my life where someone has made harsh remarks to me about my weight, however one memory sticks out more than the others. This comment was not made in the start of my eating disorder, but it was a key part that led to me quitting something I loved and it gave more power to my eating disorder.

Ballet class. I absolutely loved it. The pink tights, black leotard, the whole-nine-yards- I loved it! I enjoyed the intensity of class, the classical music playing, and the gracefulness of each move. I particularly liked how the teacher taught class. He was classically trained and principal dancer in his home country’s ballet. I looked up to him. He corrected every wrong move someone made and pushed his students harder than one possible. In his class of around twenty-five, he had a select few of students that he pushed harder and focused on more- I was one of them. He would call the select few students out, tell us how fantastic were doing, what specifically we need to improve on, and use us as examples to everyone else. At first, this was great. Who doesn’t want to feel special by their teacher? Who doesn’t like to be called out in class for doing something good?

Although this felt great at first, it took a turn for the worst around the middle of the year with him. He started comparing my body to other petite girls in class. I recall during one class, as everyone was on their backs on the floor doing hundreds of sit ups, my teacher would walk and look at each person as he counted the number of sit ups we did. When he got to me he stopped over me and watched me for a second long than the others and said in his broken English, “You need to lose that weight in your stomach.” I was stunned. I knew I had some extra pounds on me but I was by no means overweight; however, once he said that statement, my eating disorder really kicked in to high gear. A normal healthy weight no longer would be accepted as okay or healthy. I was fat. A fat ballerina. After we finished working out, a group of girls and I were complaining about the intense workout we just had and my teacher looks at me and says “if you were to lose that weight you would be a great ballerina.” It wasn’t just me that heard this comment… my friends did to.

It is difficult to put into words how these words affected me. My idol, someone I looked up to.. just told me I need to lose weight. He would continue with these statements.

Beyond making me upset and anxious to go into this class- a class I once loved, I felt uncomfortable in my own skin (more so than ever), and I started paying more attention to the number on a scale. Because of the pressure I started to feel in my ballet classes and worrying about my health, I eventually had to quit ballet. Now I’m not blaming him directly for my eating disorder, but I do think his comments played a part in continuing my disorder and leading me to become more obsessed about what I ate.

What I’ve learned since my ballet days is that people hear these comments all the time. People look at others and make comments about their weight oblivious (?) to the fact that saying phrases like you need to lose weight in order to fit some ideal can cause serious harm; and truly affect the lives of those who they are speaking to. Putting pressure on people to lose weight (when not a health risk) can be extremely hurtful. As you can see from my story and to the others who are posting about WeightStigma these negative comments can influence eating disorders and continually perpetuates the idea that the size of our bodies determine how successful we are in life… or in my case how successful I would be in the ballet world.

This is ridiculous. This is a serious problem our society faces. The weight/size/stature of a person does not tell ones personality/talents/successes…

Now its time to my weight is no longer going to define me and cause me to be scared to be seen in my pink tights and leo. I’m not going to be afraid or persuaded that I cannot do something because of the shape of my body and I no longer want to hear these harsh comments made about weight.

Help me in changing our communities from holding the idea that there is such thing as a perfect body or that the model type body is the only thing that is beautiful; dancers help me change this idea that in order to be a good dancer you don’t have to be petite/underweight/super thin and that you can be a beautiful dancer no matter your weight.  

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A Goodbye Letter

Dear Ana,

I’m getting to a point in my life where I cannot have you constantly beating me down. It’s time to go our separate ways no matter how painful it may be, you see, it’s the best for me. I’m tired of you controlling my life. I’m tired of me trying to control my life. Time to give God full control. Although that does seem a little scary I know He will take better care of me than you ever did/will/can.

Throughout the years you have been there for me- a consistent part of my life, really. You have been my way of coping through pain and how I celebrate in good times. For the past year however, you have not been a positive part of my life. The past year I have tried many times to find what I love, what I want to do, to stop making you god and start living life for God. I can’t do these things with you in my life. It just won’t work out.

For the last few months, you made me sick. For a little while you made me feel at peace. Finally I stopped caring about everything. As I lay in the hospital bed that YOU put me in, I found peace. At first it was wonderful. However, you caused me to hurt my friends- the people that really cared for me. I remember the looks on each one of their faces and I recall the guilt that I felt in knowing that I broke several promises. You turned me into someone I didn’t even know. I stopped being a good friend. I stopped caring about my own life. I desired the worst and felt like I deserved the worse because of you.

Although, I realized the harm you caused me I still loved you. It became a love hate relationship at this point. I recognized the hurt you caused yet I still expected you to provide me the comfort/security/everything I needed. As I continued to deal with you, you made me miss great opportunities, lie to friends, miss school, you made me hurt myself.

Today, you scared me. You have caused me to think I’m not deserving of things I need to live. You caused me chest pain, headaches, a racing heart, arrhythmias; you cause me to want to go to the hospital. I no longer desire that.

I’m going to tell you what I desire. I desire to live a life that God has given me-one that is filled with purpose, beauty, and joy. You cannot do this for me and even if you could it would not be to the extent that He can provide me. I am His. He will save me from your grip. He will do more than you ever could. I desire Him. I am choosing Him. I am choosing life. Not you.

I say goodbye Ana.

Yours truly.