When I was sick with anorexia I didn’t cry very much. I was angry a lot, yes, but I didn’t often cry from sadness. I wasn’t the complete emotional void that a person with anorexia stereotypically might be, but I didn’t cry a lot. Which is ironic really, as considering how lonely, stressed, trapped, and irritable I was then, I had plenty to cry about.
Imagine my confusion when I cried whilst force feeding myself in recovery.
The trouble with force feeding oneself, is that there is nobody else there to take it out on. Previously, on the odd occasion anyone else pressured me to eat when I didn’t want to I had raged and yelled. I had directed my frustration at somebody else, and concluded that they were the problem.
Alone, faced with a pizza and a shit load of determination, I had nobody else to tantrum at. That didn’t stop me. I still had a bit of a tantrum, but it doesn’t have the same effect when nobody else is there. I remember feeling very suddenly even more alone than usual. Sat there facing a pizza and feeling all these feelings with nobody to witness them. I felt angry, but it was pretty short lived compared to the sadness. I was sad I had nobody to share this moment with. Feeling sorry for myself.
I was crying whilst I ate that pizza and I didn’t know why. I felt desperately sad. Logically I knew I had nothing to be sad about, and superficially I could tell myself that this was victory and I was actually doing it. That wasn’t meaningless to me. I was thrilled I was doing it too. There is duality that can exist in everything, and one can be scared and sad and excited and thrilled all in the same moment. The wonderful and difficult thing about emotions is that we can be experiencing conflicting feelings all at the same time.
The confusing part wasn’t the diverse nature of my feelings. That I was pretty used to by then. The confusing part was I didn’t know where the sadness was coming from. I understood the exhilaration, and the feeling victorious. I was used to the guilt and shame as that was frequently present when eating something out of the range of my usual safe routine. The sadness? Why?
I imagine I was mourning my eating disorder. Mourning doesn’t sound like the right word. Can you mourn something that you hate? Maybe. It’s more likely that I was mourning 10 plus years of a life not lived fully. You see, in sitting myself down and force feeding myself pizza, I was doing it. I was doing what I hadn’t been able to do for 10 years. And the reality of eating that pizza made recovery feel like a done deal. I knew, the moment I did that, I would recover. Fully.
And the fact that sitting down and eating pizza — a lot of it — was actually so fucking easy, was one of the reasons it was so sad. I could have done this 5, 8, 10 years ago. I could have. I could have made that choice. That was a shitty, shitty realisation. That realisation made me cry a lot. And often, during recovery. As I saw and felt things change, as I daily, hourly, did the opposite of what my eating disorder wanted me to do — and felt how easy it actually was to do that. As I walked though the walls that my head had constructed around me and discovered that they were never really walls in the first place. They were doors I could have pushed open at any time. When I realised that I had only been trapped in my eating disorder because I had been too afraid to even try and not be trapped…
That was a shitty, shitty, realisation.
Ten+ years of wasted life. I could have walked though the door at any time. Ten+ years I would never get back. People I would never get back. Experiences I would never get back. Ten+ years of … (sigh).
It was also a fucking empowering and motivating realization.
I can break down these walls in my head. I have the power to do that. I really do. I’m doing it!
So I cried in recovery, a lot. I rejoiced too. I learnt that recovery — eating all the food I needed and rewiring — was going to be as hard or as easy as I allowed it to be.
Every time I ate I had a choice. I could participate in the negative emotions — guilt, shame, disgust, fear — that were waiting there for me to jump into them. Or I could choose not to. I could actually choose not to. Not only could I choose not to participate in the emotions of guilt, shame, disgust, and fear, I could choose to enjoy recovery. I could choose to enjoy eating. Enjoy resting. Enjoy working with rather than against my body. I could choose.
So I chose.
It really was that easy. Because I understood in that moment that everything has a choice attached to it. Even the things that don’t feel like they do. Even emotions. I could choose not to participate in the emotions that my brain was suggesting. I could choose enjoyment.
It really was that easy. And that, that was the painful part for me.
When you made that decision , to eat and ride the guilt , would you not just have o move around to distract tyoyrself from the guilt ! I can do the eating but not the sitting ! Did you feel the same ?
You are truely inspiring Tabitha thank you
I am the same and would like tips to fight that ‘urge’ to always move.
Thank you,
I agree Wcod, whilist I can now “eat” without restriction, it is ALWAYS “surrounded” with movement, and now, as I am eating MORE than I have, I am “forcing” myself to move EVEN MORE….I feel this is a more viscous cycle than the starvation train!! Thoughts/suggestions anyone??? 🙂
Just putting this here for anyone else looking for an answer – you just gotta do it. Just sit down, and put some music on, or call up a friend, if it helps. In the beginning, you will need something to distract you from the urges. Once you see that nothing bad comes from being still, you won’t have to depend on the distractions as much anymore – eventually, you’ll be able to comfortably sit still, and trust me when I tell you, you will feel so FREE.
Beautifully stated. I’m 38 and have had anorexia since 14.
Recently came across your videos. Wow!
Did well in treatment (or liked having permission to eat) but always come home back to square one.
Best of intentions to stop exercising, to eat more, to stop rituals and live my life. The voice just screams. It will no matter if I listen or not. It seems I’m weak because I cave in.
I am motivated and as you said you can be motivated but if you don’t change….nothing will. What can be my first step?
Thank you so much!
I’m reading you from Australia. My daughter has both restrictive AN and exercise compulsion so your posts and blogs have been very helpful for me. I hope that she can find your determination. You should be very proud of your recovery.
I really appreciate all of your posts and videos and I am always so greatfull dor them. But this one is a masterpice! Really woke up my mind… Thank you for this!
Xx
What a beautiful, lyrical, heart felt, inspiring realisation. We can all learn from it.
This is so true, and so well expressed. Thank you!
Thanks for this very moving testimony ! Si easy to recover but so difficult Aldo when weight control is all what you have (sorry for my english I’m French?)
Another great article. And yes, I can’t believe how much time I have wasted, and how much s**t I put myself through, and all for nothing! How annoying…..
Along side this, and I think you touched on this in another post. Responsibilities – I’m not responsible for what has happened to me but as a mature adult with commitments I have the responsibility, knowledge and support to get on and do what I need to do.
Simple.
Wow, you have just put into words a feeling that I have constantly, now fighting anorexia, but have never been able to express in words. You gave me new insights. Thank you for sharing your journey x
This is so beautifully captures the essence of freedom that lies in just…letting….go. Thank you for sharing your experience and your wisdom. I hope you know that your work really makes a difference 🙂
I too feel a sadness and an anger that I was not, did not know all I needed to do was eat and eat good foods such as fats. Sadly not only did I lose years to eating, I lost the same time and more to drugs and alcohol which almost definitely were a consequence of my untreated ED.
I had this tonight with pasta. I almost got sectioned for refusing to eat pasta in hospital and missed out on hundreds of family meals for refusing to eat pasta. I told myself I didn’t like it. Why? Before I got ill I was a marathon runner who ate loads of pasta. I’m going to recover to go back to being that healthy and strong version of me. I mourned the countless meals I’ve missed with my siblings, regret the hours of rows I’ve caused. The drama I didn’t mean to create but out of anxiety and fear of pasta did. I hate myself for this but I didn’t mean it to happen and I am where I am now and I must let the past go and move forward. I’m sorry to my family. I’m sorry to myself and I hate anorexia for poisoning happy moments.