In the borderland of anorexia recovery

I thought anorexia had been torn from me body and soul forever after David left.

Now he is back.

And so is anorexia.

Anorexia nervosa started creeping back a few weeks ago.

Taunting me with anxieties and fears; driving me to seek solace in dangerous places.

I look in the mirror and wonder who I am with this newly gained flesh.

I step on the scale, the relentless pursuit of thinness hovering in the back of my mind.

I know the numbers are a lie, and mean nothing without the power I give to them.

I know the path I have been on has been one of health and recovery and life.

I think of the future, and there are two alternative paths.

One is the path of anorexia and self-destruction. I fight to face the feelings stirred by recovery, but sometimes fail and use medication or alcohol to dull the inner pain. I don't want to become the victim of an accidental overdose. I want to learn how to handle anxiety so powerful it feels as if it could kill me.

The other path is one of healing and hope. It is a scary path, filled with anxieties that must be faced and food that must be eaten and weight that must gained. For I know until I reach my healthy goal weight, the anorexic thoughts will continue to nip at me and I will not be free. But I am so close to being free...

From 3-7 October 2010 journal entries.

This is the borderland of recovery. The word borderland implies a middle state of not belonging to any place or group. You are the "other." I am not yet recovered. I still sometime restrict and count calories and fight the thoughts of anorexia. I still weigh myself every day, and that number still means something to me.

Yet, I am not emaciated nor in physical danger, except for a persistent low potassium level which could impact my heart function (I also have potential heart problems from having scarlet fever. Typical for me, I try not to think about it.) But I am overall healthy and my mind is more clear than it has been for months. I know I must continue on the path of recovery. Neither my mind nor soul could handle failing this time.

Perhaps I am not failing. As I traverse the borderland of recovery, I see both many obstacles and many sources of help scattered throughout. The main obstacle is my mind and the still-obsessive drive to lose weight and become unimaginably thin again.

I am trying to discern why this thought remain pervasive. My therapist believes I am still afraid of life, and this is my way of staying safe. But the question is why am I afraid of life? I'm not sure. Sometimes life is beautiful and wonderful; the sun shines through my study window and caresses me and the brilliant leaves of orange and yellow and red fill my yard. It is a dying time, and yet reminds me that everything God creates is beautiful and life will come again.

Things are going wonderful for me in many ways. My husband and I are reconciled and are working hard to reestablish the intimacy we shared before anorexia nervosa decided to join us as a third partner in our marriage. I am working hard toward fulfilling my dream to obtain my master's degree, and I was recently admitted to the English department's writing program. This means I can pursue writing as my career, and use my skills as a writer and journalist to help people with eating disorders and mental illnesses. This means so much to me, and I am gratified in particular by one comment made by a professor reviewing my portfolio: "You have a rare gift." (She added that means she will push me hard to cultivate and hone that gift, and I might not always like what she says or wants me to do.)

I have a wonderful group of readers of this blog and recently it caught the attention of Ladies Home Journal. I am now working on a piece about my experiences with anorexia. I also will present my graduate paper on this topic at an English conference later this month, and will be interviewed by an Internet show by HealthyPlace.org next week. Finally, I am working on a presentation on eating disorders to present to students at the university, fulfilling another dream to begin to create a ministry to both present my story as a warning and help young people realize that we all different and beautiful in God's eyes and that is good.

But I'm not recovered. I am still walking through the borderland of recovery and know I can cross into either territory. At times, I feel as if I am on a very thin line and I am teetering either way. Cross one line and I am embrace life and all it has to offer. Step over the other line and I am looking at a lonely future with little hope and dreams destroyed.

My protection in this in-between state is my Lord and Savior Christ Jesus, and He guides me through the harrowing journey of recovery. He tells me I am beautiful and wondrous in His eyes when I look at my body and see fat that I want to carve out. He assures me that I am His child when I doubt myself and listen to my anxieties and fears that come of this world. He reminds me that my body is His gift and I am responsible for its care and love while I am on this earth.

I often wonder how long I will be on this earth. There are times I don't feel as if I belong here; the borderland is a lonely place and I haven't yet met anyone else wandering there, fighting for strength and recovery and wondering if s/he is the only one there. If you too feel as if you are in the borderland of recovery; if it is hard and you need an encouraging word or prayer, contact me via my e-mail on my profile.

I dream of a world where we all help each other; that not one of us becomes the Good Samaritan left forgotten by the side of the road. We all have wounds inflicted by our eating disorders and I believe we can help each other heal.

Christ Jesus is my guide through the borderland and will lead me to safety. Without him, I could not make it. But He also requires me to work hard on my own recovery. He will be there to guide me but I have to do the work, whether it means picking up the fork and eating the food or hiding from my feelings through unhealthy means.

The choice is mine. Choose to move forward and cross into the land of recovery. Or not.

The lies of Proana

My mind feels as if it were split in two by anorexia. Part of me is pulled toward eating less and losing weight. The pursuit of thinness feels so strong, ready to pull me under. But is it really being thin that I want? I don't think so.

People say I am too thin now; losing more pounds feels rather pointless and yet . . . I look at pictures of those who are young and thin; fake photos to draw me in and trap me. I will never look like that. It is a lie. I won't tiptoe between raindrops nor walk across snow-covered fields with nary a footprint.

The Lies of Proana

Il Faut Souffrir Pour Etre Belle

  (One must suffer to be beautiful)

Welcome to the world of fantasy

Where slender young women

float through life

untouched by the ravages

of their starving bodies

and

wasted minds.

Did I ever believe any of this? Do I still? Is my mind torn in two? As I struggle to eat, both believing I need to lose weight and then seeing the truth, I wonder whose mind is it, anyway? Who is in control here and am I that easily manipulated? Or am I sometimes drawn toward this fantasy world because I find it too hard to escape the reality of anorexia? I wonder ...

It is so easy to believe the lies of proana. The women pictured look flawless — smooth, delicate skin, slender bodies and glossy smooth hair. Who could resist the allure of these images?

Proana says all you have to do is not eat. Of course, not every one of these websites actually say you must starve to achieve this imaginary life. Starvation is sometimes just a whisper behind the positive posts of eating less and exercising more; of ways to avoid food and how much better you will feel the less you eat. 

Some proana sites go further, trying to make starvation sound virtuous; a state to aspire to:

 "Starvation is fulfilling. 

Colors become brighter, sounds sharper, 

odors so much more savory . . ."

LIES! I wish I could reach through the website where I found that and shake the person, yelling You are starving, that's why things seem different and strange. Starving!!! Lies which help perpetuate the downward spiral of so many women. More fulfilling??? I remember in some of my worse restrictive times I would suddenly get an urge to snatch food from someone eating in front of me. The smells and imagined taste almost were too much. And yet part of me was (is?) susceptible to this and it scares me.

The other, healthier part of me wants to break free of anorexia forever. I am tired. Tired of counting calories. Tired of worrying about every single bite I put in my mouth. Tired of fighting with my mind all the time. I struggle to maintain some semblance of a normal life and at each turn, crouching in every corner is anorexia.

Tired of thinking about a life without my husband, a life without love and joy.

The anxiety is the worse. I wake up afraid of everything. Having sex with my husband. Food. Getting out of bed. The fear that I will amount to nothing. Eating. Not eating. Facing the day. Taking a shower and deciding what clothes to wear. Completing assignments.

Nothing is untouched by anxiety. Nothing.

The other day my husband told me he was leaving unless I made a real effort toward recovery. I thought I was. I was thinking about what I needed to do, writing about it, trying to work through the fear of eating and gaining weight.

I felt I was making an effort. I was thinking about it; doesn't that count for something? Of course, I also was talking about not gaining anymore weight and possibly losing more. I feel fine, I said. Why can't I stay the way I am? Why can't I just accept I have anorexia and live with it. I could give up treatment and let things happen,

What did I expect? For David to say, sure that's fine, being under one hundred pounds is perfectly okay by me?

I'm such an idiot sometimes. I cried more that night than ever before . . .  I promised to do better and I do truly want recovery. It's just so hard and I'm not as strong as people seem to think.

Last night, I told my doctor I want one of two things — either anorexia to kill me or to be free. Anorexia nervosa purgatory just isn't working for me.

Then I had an — epiphany? A revelation? Maybe a word from God, I don't know. I suddenly thought, What if I just stopped worrying and started eating like a normal person? What would happen? Would I literally explode? Would it kill me? Or would I start becoming the person I was, only better? 

I think of the past and dream of the future, thinking of the possibility of a rich and normal life . . .