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The Truth and nothing but... A monthly column featuring
stories, articles and editorials Payson Road is excited to introduce,
The Truth, a monthly editorial column that is focused on the subject
of Eating Disorders. Unlike our other two columns, the
Corner and The Voice, The Truth is all about ED's. So we want to
hear it. If you've got an article, or a story to share or even medical
information, send it on over. Submit 2007 February 2006 - A Bold New Truth 2006
Archives | 2002 | 2003 | 2004 | 2005 My First Steps Toward a Bold New Truth Well, I know some of you have read these as my life has been through ups and downs. Happily I can report that I officially passed the one year purge free mark this month. I’ve actually had two good years, but this was the first time (and hopefully only time I start this count) that I’ve made it a whole solid year without using food as a crutch, solution or enemy. And let me tell you this, it feels pretty damn good! On that note, I am about to embark on another big change. While I am headed back to school this semester (with one solitary low level math class that terrifies me!), I have decided to go back fulltime in September. I have danced since I was 7, taught since 16, and am now a 27 year old dancer and dance educator. But, I want to go to school for dietetics. I did some college on a part time basis almost 10 years ago, without knowing where I was headed. A dance degree doesn’t add much weight in the dance world and I knew that racking up debt for some other random degree, just to head back into the studio, didn’t make much sense. There are no regrets for that decision, or the time and energy I have put into various dance communities and organizations. Very few regrets in general anymore, but that’s a subject for a whole other article! However, it’s not the right place for me anymore. I was fired from one job at the end of the summer. From an organization I’d worked in for 5 solid years. I wasn’t given a reason, but over the spring recital had intervened on behalf of an anorexic student who was truly suffering and whom I believe to be in physical danger. Her parents were divorced and the one she was residing with was not pleased that I involved the other. While I would make the same decision again, the choice to value the life of a child, I was horribly disappointed with the outcome. I wasn’t even notified in person, but heard through some students, receiving this email several weeks later: Sarah, Things have been so hectic this summer that we are just getting around to responding to your E-Mails. We have completed our staffing for our 2006-2007 classes, and we will not need you at this time. If things change later, we will be in touch. We wish you the best with your educational pursuits. That complete disregard on all levels was one notch of many on my list of disappointments. I also have not been happy with the other main organization I’ve been teaching at since relocating to this area 6 years ago. While I can’t really go into all the details, nor would you wish me to, I feel like this particular place has outgrown its management style and size. I’ve felt disregarded, disrespected, unable to be heard, and lately been flat out treated in a way that I deem poorly. While I love dance with all my heart, it’s not the right place for me any longer. I love the actuality of it, the teaching and the rehearsing and performing, but no longer am very attracted to the idea of it. I think there is just too much drama surrounding what I do for me to feel I have much of a handle on the core of it all. That is a clear alarm that something is wrong with the picture. I’d planned to go back to school part time for the next few years, working as I am now, but shifted that last week. Starting in September I will be a fulltime student. Great goal, Sarah……except for the logistics issue of finances. I have NO idea how I’ll pay the bills. I have so much medical debt from being sick that I can’t imagine adding to that, AND I live in the Washington, DC area where cost of living is through the roof. However, I don’t much care. I am so excited by this prospect that I’ll deal with the issues as they come. Today I bought a huge book of scholarships and can’t wait to sit down with it and see what I might be eligible for. I’d love to tell you that I want to work with ED patients, and I might. But I feel like the dietetics field is evolving with science and with the trends of the population, and that 4 ½ years from now I’ll have many options to choose from. The country might possibly be either eating or starving itself to death by that point. I am not science minded, I am an artist. Yet, I don’t care about that either. This holds so much appeal that I am willing to put myself into something that will be both hard and that the schoolwork for might leave me feeling not too intelligent. I don’t think I am stupid, but I know where my strengths lie. My friends seem pretty shocked, yet very supportive. Most of them have done the school thing, some for years and years, and are there to answer questions. I will be working part time next year, hopefully at the new place I started this year that really is run like a business, but am making that shift in priorities from the present to the future. The future I used to not care about at all. The age old question about what you want to be when you grow up is starting to have a clear answer. For those of you that still feel lost in this disease know there is hope. A sunny day of the other side of years of internal storms and struggles. That is just starting me become apparent to me. Both in what I want to do moving forward in my life, and in the fact that I am able to welcome (and tackle) this change with open arms and a light heart. I’ll keep you posted….. October 2006 Maybe it's my fault. Perhaps I haven't been aggressive enough going after the
support I need to help this organization grow. Who knows. But right
now, I'm in flux, trying to figure out what to do with the little purple page
that could. It's stuck. It can't stay where it's at, but it doesn't know
where to go and I'm not afraid to say that I need help. Because my own life has
been more than most people could bear in 10 lifetimes. Awareness I have students who can't look straight ahead unless I stand in front of them, as that requires looking in the mirror; One who dropped close to 30 pounds this year (0 pounds she didn't have to lose), kids who constantly talk about how much they hate themselves and how they look, kids with sweatshirts to their knees that they refuse to remove. It breaks my heart. I want to take them all to lunch (yes, lunch!), share what I've been through and how they don't want to walk that path. How they can learn to value and appreciate who they are inside and out. Some I really believe would listen. However, as an educator of minors, I must go through their parents. Dealing with the parents has become an immensely frustrating experience. Parents are so often clueless about the issues, and dare I say, often perpetuate the problem in the household. For example, who goes on a diet with their extremely active, healthy weight teenager??? What is this country coming to? I am appalled at the things I see that I can't do anything about changing. Lately I've truly wished I could be blind to all this lack of eating disorder and body image awareness like so many people are around me. It's always easier to be numb, there's no emotional commitment required. Awareness in this country is so slow in coming. People don't see the obvious symptoms of eating disorders exhibited by so many. Just this week, I've started dealing with a really severe acid reflux problem. Can't tell me 10 years of abuse didn't contribute to that...even if I have been "clean" since January. And, even I came through relatively unscathed--which is not the case with so many men and woman struggling with eating disorders. Yet no one seems to hear or see these indirect cries for help. I think I would die if even one of my students became a death statistic. I walk such a fine line between absolutely knowing that it can happen yet maintaining my sense of calm for my student's sake, and also so I'm taken seriously. Getting hysterical about anything is a sure way to be dismissed, yet if you're not upset enough it means you don't care. It's a fine line. Even those who see elements of pending problems often don't say anything until physical safety is on the line. Do people care? Are they scared to speak out? Clueless? Blind? What is the issue here? I challenge everyone who reads this to do one thing this month to bring a small bit of awareness of eating disorders to their world. My birthday is July 1st and that would be the best present I could get...aside from the pledge I've given myself to stay healthy. Even if it's a hug to a sufferer or acknowledgement, even if you don't understand, say it! Say something. The shame and secrecy people with eating disorders suffer can not be overcome if the outside world continues to contribute to the problem by ignoring it's existence. Both on a personal and cultural level it is crucial to spread awareness. Do your part. Misunderstood How are you least understood? My friend and I were talking last night about being understood, and when she asked me this, I was stumped. I thought it might be a good question to ponder. I tend to think I am not very complicated, and that anyone that knows me well also understands me well. However, the more I think about it I realize that I have two sets of people in my life that misunderstand me: Pre-Bulimia recovery friends and Post-Bulimia recovery friends. Pre-Recovery Friends - these are the friends who
have known me through many stages of my life. I like to refer to the
pre-recovery days as the "drama days". These friends remember the girl who
dealt with things differently, with drama. As a result, they frequently
misunderstand who I am ...today (with a few exceptions). They don’t understand
why I don’t complain about things anymore. And how is it that I no longer eat
sugar and flour? That's just crazy! They definitely question me after I rely
some unpleasant occurrence as to why I am not more angry about it. Post-Recovery Friends - So then there are the other people, the “recovery people". Let me start by saying I have met some of the best friends I have ever had in OA, but there is a dark side to the recovery group world. It brings in some interesting (ah hem) people. Example: they get on this whole “inner child” “love yourself" psych-101 schtick that I just can’t handle. It's not for me. I don’t think you change your life by “discovering your inner child” or “telling yourself positive affirmations”. I think you change your life by taking action. If I am talking about my fears or other issues with someone, I tend to be sarcastic. This in turn prompts the "feel gooders" to lecture me on “self-talk” and “loving myself” blah,blah, blah. This frustrates me to no end. Can't someone love themselves and be sarcastic at the same time? It's just my defense mechanism people! There's got to be a balance between pre and post me. I still maintain that the people who know me well also understand me. And I am okay with being understood by few and not by everyone. Silver Linings I am doing well in my recovery. I engage in very little destructive behavior. I have gotten better at reading myself when I need help, if things are slipping. But most crucially, I'm better at asking for help when I need it. That's the big one for me. I used to never ask for help. I would simply suffer in silence and resort to a multitude of destructive comfort zones; binging, purging, starving, cutting, running (which I DESPISE), drinking, occasional drug use (when I was younger). This all with the phone off and effectively locked in my own house and in my own head. I would venture to work, only to run right back to my house in misery at the end of the day. What I didn't allow myself to rely on then was reaching out to friends who I could call on when I found myself in that "emotional" place. They didn't always have the right answers. In fact, sometimes they made things worse. But they were trying and I was learning to ask for help. I went through the same process with doctors and therapists. I saw a therapist and a psychiatrist who didn't help me at all. I actually got sicker. But I did learn to talk more about the problems that were causing these behaviors. A little over a year ago I switched my medical/psych team. When this change happened, and possibly as a result of my early experiences, I was much better equipped to learn what I needed to learn and apply what I needed to apply. Now, with proper medication and the right team of professionals who listen and really understand (or die trying!) I have made tremendous progress. My last purging episode was one afternoon in early January. I was in the middle of a bi-polar depression crashes that occasionally was still haunting me. At the moment, I found myself at a drive-thru on my way to work. Didn't plan it. Didn't think about it. I was not even sure I knew what was happening until I'd consumed everything and was trying to find a bathroom I deemed okay to vomit in. This was different for me. This ritual had previously been planned carefully. Maybe it was fate because those 30 minutes of binging and purging scared me so much that I never wanted to do it again. I scratched my throat, my nose was bleeding everywhere, I wasn't even "very good" at throwing up anymore. It took a lot more effort than it used to take. Not to say that it won't happen again but it was bad enough to leave a lasting negative impression. I guess what I realized is that my binging/purging behavior no longer serves the purpose it used to serve. In fact, it now causes more anxiety than it dispels. This was a revelation for me. So the first thing I did was to call Faye, my dietician, for both the accountability of reporting what I'd done and the pep talk I knew she would give. Faye has a great system she uses, her bracket system. She tells me to put each episode aside in its own place--thus not discounting all that's come before and not coloring or defining what will come next. This was the next stage in learning to ask for help. Once I'd "fixed" whatever "bad" thing I had done I could then be brave enough to admit it had happened. I was now at a point where I could stop mid-meltdown, (though not mid episode or pre-episode), and ask for some guidance and re-direction. This point of my recovery is where I was up until last week when something happened to push me into the next stage. Last Tuesday, I was in a car accident that totaled my car. Prior to that, I'd been lost in my head a lot about all the little things that were wrong in my life, the stress of things to come, and the anxiety that was producing. That's actually what I had started to write this article about on Monday night. The accident wiped all that clean in a heartbeat. I was okay. The small burn on my thumb doesn't amount to much of an injury. My puppy was in her kennel in the back seat and she's fine. And the other driver is also fine. It was technically her fault. While that is good for my insurance, that fact is that it is just a bad intersection that needs another stop sign. My airbags deployed, basically giving me a heart attack, and my front end was mess. The official verdict of totaled came in today and now I have to fight to get money that represents the true value of that vehicle. Had I not wrecked my car at 9:30 AM, I would have gone to therapy at Noon to talk about the little things that were wrong. Obviously I didn't get to that appointment. I was able to keep my appointment on Thursday with Faye, my dietician. While I thought I was doing well, it appeared she was not so convinced. She asked if I wanted to get in to see someone else before the weekend--just to have the chance to talk a bit. In that moment, I felt as though I didn't need to talk. I was doing fine. Tuesday, the day of the accident I was on autopilot with my eating habits--everything semi-normal. By Wednesday I started to lose my appetite. Then the crying set in...repeatedly....at anything and everything...10 times a day. I was a wreck behind the wheel. Everything came to a head on Thursday night when I screamed at my puppy for essentially, being a puppy. That's when I knew I was losing it. However something changed in me. Everybody has life stresses, when you have an eating disorder, you turn to food or in my case food and/or cutting to ease the pain. This time was different. Instead of relying on one of my old standbys for comfort, I went to see my psychiatrist first thing Friday morning. I didn't even call, just showed up and sat there until he had time to see me. I decided this all by myself! I was able to admit that I was not okay, and needed help. I trusted that he would listen and help me even though I didn't have any bleeding wounds to show for it. And guess what, he did! While the additional medication I was given helped me, I believe that the success of my preemptive strike helped more. I deserve to take care of myself and can ask for help. And it doesn't have to be something visible. It can be simply that I am in pain emotionally. Acknowledging this does not mean that I am no longer a valid member of society or a good human being. I don't have to categorize myself as some sub-par creature on this planet just because I need help when I'm hurting. This is my next step in this journey of recovery and for me a silver lining in a long, painful, monotonous journey. Believe me I am not usually a silver lining kind of person. But I'm here to tell ya, silver's starting to look real good. February 2006 Yesterday I went to the gym--which was a feat in itself as I've been going so
sporadically recently. Ten minutes after arriving I managed to lock myself
out of my locker. Let me clarify, by myself I mean, all of my belongings
including my purse, car kings, cell phone, Ipod....Oh yeah. It is so
unlike me to separate from my purse. But I did. So I took the
humility walk down to the front desk confronting stares and giggles as one of
the desk attendants agreed to accompany me to the locker with a gi-normous set
of industrial cutters. And I thought the walk to the desk was
embarrassing. Well, after much struggle, the attendant was able to pop the
lock open without completely cutting through it. Relief. Workout salvaged.
Although I spent the entire bike ride worrying about my now mangled lock's
ability to protect my stuff. The Best and Worst of a New Year It is the best of times it is the worst of times. New Year can mean many things, good and bad. A new year, a new start or another year of the same old resolutions soon to be broken. Our house is no different, we spend most of New Year’s days, once the hangovers have ceased to exist, planning our resolutions and how we are going to carry them through. As the holidays come to an end so does all the holiday overindulgence and a new diet regime, everyone gorges on festive treats until the cupboards are bare. We eat take outs for dinner, chocolates and sweets just because they are there like the last supper over and over for at least a week. Then all changes, shopping consists of health conscious goods that are considered acceptable to which ever diet the household is following that week. We enter into this year after year, usually several times a year. And I wonder why I have issues surrounding food and weight. This year is going to be different! I feel really positive about 2006, more so than I have done any other year. I have made a conscious decision to not partake in the family rituals surrounding this time of year, I now realise all of this is a waste of time and a waste of money. Why set yourself up for failure? Yes I am fully aware that I need to lose some weight, yes I need to change my eating habits and begin a healthier lifestyle. But I am also aware the focus on food and weight contributes to my Ed relapses. Yes, I do have relapses and yes I still consider myself to be recovering. The fact that I can now recognise what is detrimental to my health and ask for help about it is more important than losing those few pounds. This is not something that I have just realised but is something I am just acting upon. I had the best Christmas I can remember and all because my focus wasn’t on the food I was consuming but on the whole day and enjoying the family atmosphere. Every year since I can remember, we have had some argument about food – usually my doing it has to be said. The afternoon of Christmas day I spend in my room thinking about how much food I have eaten, how I need to get rid of it and how miserable I am. This year, I ate with my family and I enjoyed every mouthful, the afternoon was hectic but I did stay with my family throughout. It is the best of times it is the worst of times. So far this year is the best of times. No food arguments, no lying to each other. And best of all I am actually loving food! The Truth
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