Looking For Recovery? You’ve Come to the Right (Wrong?) Place.

I suppose when someone types in “recovering anorexic” or “anorexia recovery” or “recovery from anorexia,” they are looking for beacons of hope. Maybe it’s a girl at the end of her rope, finally contemplating recovery after a long struggle with anorexia. Maybe it’s someone who has just begun the recovery process and is looking for someone who relates to just how hard it is. Maybe it’s a concerned mother looking up resources for a sick child, scared and lonely and feeling helpless.

But instead, my blog is probably one of the first sites they find.

If you type in “recovering anorexic,” google has place me first on the results list. With “anorexia recovery” I am seventh, and with “recovery from anorexia” I am third.  Given that the first thing they see is my URL, anyone who isn’t familiar with my blog will most likely click on it assuming they will find someone who has been through anorexia and subsequently “recovered.” Instead of entries of a girl who is happy and enjoying life ED free, they will get someone who had previously entered recovery but then relapsed back into her illness.

Sometimes this makes me feel bad. The bulk of my views come from google hits, and the overwhelming majority of search terms have to do with recovery. Nobody finds my blog looking for thinspo or tip and tricks (not that I would necessarily want that).  Nobody finds my blog looking for general eating disorder information. I’m assuming most of the people who find my blog via google are either contemplating recovery or have already entered into recovery, and I can’t help but think my blog with either make them feel like recovery is hopeless or that it will somehow trigger them back to their old behaviors.

Now, if you know anything about me, you know I’m an advocate of taking responsibility for your own feelings and actions. If someone is triggered over my blog, that is out of my control. It isn’t directly my fault if someone relapses because of the content here. But that doesn’t mean I still don’t feel bad about it. I know, I know, I can take my own advice and change how I feel about it. And most times I am able to do that, but then there are those times when I scroll through the search terms and see nothing but “recovery.” I wish this blog were still a blog of hope and inspiration, but unfortunately, it’s a blog of disappointment and hopelessness.

I consider changing the name, but I know I never will. As most of you have already pointed out, “relapse is a part of recovery,” so in a sense, the title still works.

I still do believe recovery is possible. So to any new readers who have come here in search of something inspiring, recovery is possible. I don’t believe anyone will ever be cured of an eating disorder, but I do think if we find a recovery approach that works, and we stick to it on a daily basis, we can learn to live our lives free of ED symptoms. Don’t let my relapse discourage you. Realistically, relapse rates are high for any eating disorder/addiction, but there are plenty on this earth who have stuck to recovery and have not relapsed. It’s a hard, long process, but recovery is possible and it’s worth it. I was happiest in recovery, my relationships were strong, I was physically healthy, and even when things went “wrong” in my life, I was able to handle each situation with maturity, grace, and confidence. People may not understand then why I relapsed, or why it’s seemingly impossible for me to get back into recovery, but that would require a whole different entry on the relapse process. Just know that I am a firm supporter in recovery and that if you try it, you may just find that it was the best thing you’ve ever done.

For new readers looking for recovery, I encourage you to start reading my blog from the beginning. If you read my entries from 2007-2010, you will be able to read three years worth of recovery related entries. As they say in the 12-Step program, take what you can and leave the rest. Take what you can from my recovery entries and leave behind the relapse ones if you find they do not help you. This blog can still be seen as a tool of recovery, and if anything, use these relapse entries as a warning of what NOT to do in your own recovery.

And again, thank you to those who regularly come back and read; my fellowship grows stronger each and every day, and even though my relapse related entries may not help everybody, I’m hoping this blog in general has helped a lot of you in other ways, even if it’s just to feel like you are not alone.

I’m Sorry, I Just Can’t

It’s Friday night. I have two options: I can go home or I can go to my regular 12-Step step study. I choose option two because I haven’t been in two weeks; I have to keep up appearances or else people will wonder what’s going on.

I no longer feel the need to go. I’ve worked the same damn steps multiple times; I can only write down the same resentments and defects so many times before it just becomes a chore rather than a tool. There are things I need to surrender, but they aren’t pressing enough for me to do so. So I sit down, tune myself out, and hope the hour and a half group goes by quickly.

The first two members share on Step 6, commenting on their negative characteristics and what they are doing to eliminate them. I catch glimpses of words like “selfish” and “dishonesty” between thinking of what babble I am going to say once it’s my turn to share. I haven’t done the homework for the week; it’s pointless. I know my defects and I know what I must do to get rid of them; I don’t need to analyze them over the ten blank questions that lay in front of me.

Each member takes about ten minutes; I already know I’ll take under three.I come up with brilliant comparisons and 12-Step lingo that will make me seem like I am doing better than I really am, although half the members will most likely see through my exaggerations. As they say, you can’t bullshit a bullshitter.

A third member shares and I get bored. I try calculating calories in my head. I am currently running off of 460 for the day, leaving 190 left over for home. I can’t calculate correctly in my head so I openly scribble numbers on my paper trying to see which foods I can eat later. We are low on options but 190 calories is a lot. I could have eight slices of turkey meat. I could have a Carnation Instant Breakfast drink. Hell, I could have a half cup of ice cream with 50 calories to spare. But I settle on one and a half cups of rice cereal with a half cup of milk. I tally the calories on my step work, making sure everything fits.

When it’s my turn, I spew out some half-truths and omit other things completely. My husband and I really have been doing well. I really am trying to manage the eating disorder. I really am trying to gossip less. I smile and act like I am not totally tired and hungry and cold, and once I finish, I patiently wait for the last two members to go. I tune them out, too.

When the meeting finishes, the only man in our group who is abstaining from bulimia comes to speak with me. He’s in his 50s and has taken me under his wing. He asks me if I can commit to going to the Sunday morning meeting. I tell him I can’t commit and that I am sorry. He asks me to commit to an hour of program a day. I again say sorry, but that I can’t. I suddenly feel like I am being pressured to join a religion that I don’t agree with. I tell him that I feel like I am disappointing him. He says I could never disappoint him, but that he wants to see me get better. He says I am young and that I have my whole life ahead of me. He begins to get misty-eyed and says, “I want to see you alive to live that life.” He hugs me and I say thanks, repeating that yes, I know that this is lethal and that I know I should be in recovery. I am uncomfortable to the extreme, and I feel guilty for making a grown man tear up. I leave in haste, feeling like I just broke a man’s heart. I decide I should probably just drop out of the study.

They just don’t understand. My life is manageable. My food is decent. My health is fine. I’m not depressed. I enjoy my life. I am not running away from my problems. They are making this a bigger deal than it is.

Then why are you still trying to control your food and weight?

I don’t know.

I go home and eat my cereal. And later, even though I am not feeling like eating, I eat a bit of ice cream and peanut butter. I’m okay with this, and go up to bed.

I am the same weight this morning as yesterday, and I am okay with that, too.

Tomorrow I have the option of going to the morning meeting, but that, I am not okay with.

I am sorry, I just can’t.

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Overeaters Anonymous WAS Home

I want to post a comment I received regards to the OA (Overeaters Anonymous) program:

Be honest with yourself if not with anyone else – you are a part of OA groups because you get a perverse satisfaction in knowing you have more will-power than them. You like strutting around at only 80lbs in these meetings and having others gaze enviously at you. You like knowing that you don’t truly know what it’s like to binge or over-eat. You hide behind the facade that there are no anorexia groups for you to attend, and yet you made “the first” over-eaters group on Facebook – why over eaters? Why not anorexia? Well, because you feel better about yourself being part of an over-eaters group. Anorexics would pose too much competition for you.

You accuse others of comparing themselves to you, and yet you throw yourself right in their face to compare. You pretend, “I’m just like you!” but you’re not, and you know you’re not, and that’s what makes you feel better at the end of the day. Knowing you’re the one “with the most control” out of the group.

I think it’s important for me to address this issue.

Before my relapse, OA was home. In treatment, despite the majority of us suffering from anorexia or bulimia, Rader Programs introduced us to Overeaters Anonymous and had us go to OA meetings. Why? Probably because we had a better chance of finding support there than other 12-step groups, given that Eating Disorders Anonymous and Anorexia and Bulimia Anonymous groups are so hard to come by. With that said, I didn’t really click with the program at first. I didn’t understand the steps or the principles, and so when I got out of treatment, I never went to the meetings. I will say that in a general sense, Overeaters Anonymous is a group for people with all types of EDs. Yes, the title of the group is Overeaters Anonymous, but if anyone took the time to read the literature, it also welcomes anorexics, bulimics, and everybody in between.

Anyway, when my house burned down in 2007 I was in relapse again and my counselor urged me to go to OA or else she couldn’t see me anymore. So I did.

OA saved my life. I never once compared myself to the people there in a negative way. I never judged them. I never intentionally tried to make anybody else feel bad about themselves or their compulsive overeating. The people there welcomed me with open arms and I went back, every week, for about three years straight.

I started OA on facebook because that was MY fellowship. I belonged to this wonderful 12-step group that helped me find spiritual recovery from my eating disorder. It helped me reconnect with a higher power, it helped me become a humble person, it helped me be of service to other people, and it helped me let go of eating disorder behaviors. If you take the time to go back into this blog and read the entries pre-relapse, you would see that I was a very, very different person. In fact, in the FAQ, I never had weight stats. I never mentioned my weight or BMI. I never mentioned much about my personal life. I never posted pictures. I stuck to the principle of anonymity and was very cautious about what I posted. My number one goal was to help other people through helping myself, and I never wanted to trigger anybody.

I will say it again: OA SAVED MY LIFE. People can complain and argue that I’m not like the people in there, but I never felt more connected to people in my life than in my first few years in the program. We were different, yes. We were struggling with different issues. But we were all using those issues to hide the same things: insecurity, pain, sadness, emptiness, unhappiness. We were all coping in unhealthy ways, despite undereating, overeating, purging, over-exercising,  using laxatives, dieting, restricting, bingeing, whatever.

In terms of the comment saying I don’t know what it’s like to truly binge or over-eat, I don’t want to spend too much time arguing about that. I’m pretty tired of people getting their panties in a twist over whether or not I binge. I will apologize for the misuse of the word in some entries, but there have been times where I have truly binged. This diary doesn’t cover the entire ten year span of my eating disorder, so it’s not safe to make assumptions in regards to what I do or don’t do.

I can tolerate people criticizing me, but please do not criticize my place in the 12-step program. I was a different person when I was in recovery. If that sounds like a cop-out, then it is what it is, but it’s true.

Do I throw myself out there for people to compare themselves to me? Sure. Online, I’d say that’s a pretty fair assessment. After all, I have admitted to being a compulsive attention-seeker. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t post pictures or stats. But in OA? Never. I never once, even during my relapse, have I gone to a meeting with the intention of showing off my weight or bragging about my relapse. I’m a selfish person, but I’m not that selfish. I’ve known the people in that meeting for five years, and they are the last people I would ever hurt. I care for them more than I care for a lot of people in my life, and if my weight bothers them, then that’s out of my control. Do I feel disconnected from them? Extremely. Do I feel insecure when I talk about my anorexia? Absolutely. But I never did when I was in recovery. But I think the difference is back then, I was at a healthy weight and it was easier to talk about the anorexia in past tense than it is to talk about it in present tense.

In terms of the very last sentence of the comment, what’s funny is I came onto wordpress today to write an entry about how out of control I was. I’m not in control at all. Even if I managed to fast for a week straight, I wouldn’t be in control. This entire week I have been very out of control in terms of food. I’ve attempted to severely limit my food intake and have ended up over-eating almost everyday. I haven’t had a bowel movement in three days. I feel both emotionally and physically uncomfortable and feel very weak (emotionally). So no, I don’t think I have more control than anybody in that group. I actually feel embarrassed and unworthy to BE in the group, because most of the people in my step study are doing very well in their recovery and I’m the only one in relapse. Realistically, I’m in the least control and the one who looks like a fool. The people in that group probably feel more pity than they do jealousy.

I find it generally odd that people criticize me for telling the truth. I admit my fault and mistakes, and people still like to write condescending comments in regards to those faults. I already know I’m an attention-seeker. I already know I am overly judgmental towards some people. It’s not like you have to remind me. I read the comments and I do get defensive, but then I have to realize, “Well, they are true. You already know that.” It is hard hearing it from others, but what my point is, why do people get so frustrated over it? I suppose it’s because I don’t make any effort to change.

My brother once cheated on his wife and said, “At least I own it. At least I take responsibility for what I did. People often deny their faults, but I don’t.” In the end, it doesn’t make it right. I can tell you all until I’m blue in the face how awful a person I am, but it doesn’t mean much until I change.

We are on Step 4 of the program right now. Steps 6 and 7 is where we deal with our character defects. We’ll see how that goes. The question is, “DO I WANT TO CHANGE?” They say in program how we wouldn’t have defects unless they helped us in some way. The attention obviously feeds my insecurity. The judgement also feeds my insecurity. As does the gossiping. The selfishness, I suppose, feeds the need to only look out for myself. So yes, my defects do help me. But am I willing to let them go? They say in recovery that we must be both physically and emotionally abstinent. So even if we get rid of our ED behaviors, we still need to get rid of all the negative shit that came with it. I’m not ready to let go of the ED behaviors. Am I ready to let go of the negative traits? I’d say yes, but the hard this is that they really go hand-in-hand. On some subconscious level, I may be afraid to practice humility because that means I would probably, overtime, let go of my ED behaviors. Being stuck in this constant bubble of negativity keeps me in my eating disorder. But being in my eating disorder also keeps me in this bubble. I don’t think I can pick one or the other. I have to let go of both in order to achieve the full potential of recovery.

Compulsive Overeater VS. Anorectic

When I started this blog, it began as a tool of my recovery as I continued my journey with Overeaters Anonymous, a 12-step program for eating disorders. If you are a new reader, and you go back to the beginning of this blog, you’ll see that the entries I wrote in 2007 were very different than the ones I write now.

I don’t talk much about the program anymore, even though I do occasionally post 12-step work. I feel disconnected from the program, especially now that I am in relapse, but even more so because the majority of people in the meetings are compulsive overeaters. What is strange is that I felt such at home with OA and never saw the differences of compulsive overeating and anorexia. I never once thought that the people there were lazy, or fat, or struggling with a problem lesser than mine. I never once thought that maybe, on some level, those who saw me secretly resented me for being underweight and not having issues with food as they did. I never saw those things, because recovery was too important for me to let those things get in the way. If people had issues, those issues were no business of mine, and if I had issues, then I wasn’t following the OA tradition of putting “principles before personalities.”

Now that I am in relapse, I see things totally differently. I don’t like talking about my relapse. I don’t like “complaining” about how hard it is to eat normally. I don’t like saying how I feel like I’m fat. Why? Because I know most of these overweight people who struggle with binge eating disorder are probably offended in some way.

I started the first OA group on facebook and a fellow member said she wished she could shake those who were underweight in order to convince them they weren’t fat. She went on to say how jealous she was of us, and how we had nothing to complain about until we knew what it felt like to be 200 + pounds.

Without going into too much detail and breaking anonymity, I responded by stating that posts like hers are part of the reason why I don’t feel comfortable speaking up about anorexia in an Overeaters Anonymous meeting. She then responded how she understood because she “used to be anorexic” but that it still frustrated her to see underweight people complain about being fat. For an “anorexic” who “understands,” I find it hard to believe she would get frustrated at someone who legitimately felt they were fat. She justified her rant by saying how people like me make her feel like crap because she wishes she could look like us. Last time I checked, how YOU feel is YOUR responsibility. I’m also pretty sure my weight, all 80 whopping pounds of it, does not have the power to make you feel like crap.

I can see how one can get frustrated. I, too, get frustrated when the Abercrombie-wearing, big sunglass-sporting, bleach-blonde, duck-lipped teenager complains about how fat she is when clearly, she knows she isn’t. But there’s a HUGE difference between that type of person and a person who sits in an OA meeting who may be desperate for help and in need of support.

If I could go to Eating Disorders Anonymous or Anorexics and Bulimics Anonymous, I would. But unfortunately, I don’t have the luxury of living in LA or San Francisco where all those meetings are held. So until then, I will continue to attend OA. In the end, we ALL have issues with weight and food regardless if we are underweight and restricting, overweight and bingeing, or a mixture of both. I may not understand what it feels to be overweight. You may not understand what it feels like to be underweight. But regardless of what weight we are, we are all judged in one way or another. Being overweight sucks. But being very underweight isn’t a party either. Please don’t tell me you wish to be like me. An eating disorder is an eating disorder, and regardless of what we look like, we ALL feel like SHIT in the end.

Edit: BRILLIANT! She went on to say how anorectics don’t overeat (as in, AN ANOREXIC WOULD NEVER UNDERSTAND WHAT IT’S LIKE!). I kindly let her know that I binge quite often. Her response? “But you only overeat because if you don’t you will die! I am fat and don’t need to overeat but I do anyway!”

*face palm to the highest degree.*

My Flaws (Step 4)

So I’m working on Step 4 of the 12 steps. The first part is to write about my flaws and then come up with assets that refute those flaws.

My list was pretty extensive and included being afraid, avoidant, careless, conceited, deceitful, dependent, dishonest, envying, exaggerating, forgetful, impatient, insecure, justifying, lazy, pessimistic, procrastinates, and rationalizing.

With these though, I was able to think of assets that refuted them. For example, in terms of my dishonesty, I’m actually quite honest when doing step work and writing in here, not being afraid to tell the truth about who I am or what I do.

However, there were four flaws that I literally could NOT think of assets to, so I’m assuming those are the ones I need to work on most:

Gossiping
Inconsiderate
Self-destructive
Selfish

Gossiping: I talk way too much about people behind their back, especially at work. When someone is talking crap about someone that I don’t like, I don’t hesitate to join in on the conversation. When I know something “juicy,” I seldom keep it to myself and tell it to anyone I know who would appreciate the information.

Inconsiderate: I rarely take other people’s feelings into consideration.  My husband often surprises me with little romantic things and I never do. When people ask me how I am, I often answer and forget to ask them how THEY are doing. I often zone out when people are talking to me about something I don’t care about (even if they DO care). I don’t put my clients first nor do I really care where they go after they graduate from my program. I don’t send birthday cards to those who send me one.

Self-destructive: I almost didn’t even circle this one, but then I figured restricting my food intake and severely limiting my vegetable and fruit intake is doing damage to my body in the long run. The emotional toll it takes is pretty high as well. I’m angry/irritable more days than not.

Selfish: Putting my life in danger is selfish and unfair to my loved ones and potential children. I often get upset when our money is spent on unnecessary things but don’t think twice when I buy binge foods or new shoes or make-up. All of my actions are usually for my benefit.

Even when I was in hardcore recovery, I still struggled with these behaviors. But when I was in recovery, I had a better grasp of what was reality and could stop myself when I recognized the behaviors. In my eating disorder, I fully give into these things and don’t think twice. It made me feel like shit when I couldn’t think of an asset to go with these four flaws, but at the same time, at least I recognize them in this mind frame (seeing them as negative) vs. the ED mind frame (not giving a fuck).

They say you can’t fully work the steps unless you are abstinent from your eating disorder. That’s probably true. When I ask myself, “Can you stop yourself from being inconsiderate?” I think so, but at the same time, I’m more likely to be considerate of others when I’m thinking straight and not irritable from starving. I’m more likely be concerned with others when I’m eating healthy and taking care of my body. I’m more likely shut my mouth when I can be secure with myself and not needing the constant attention of others. And that is all easier when I am content, present, and well-fed.

So can I continue with the steps while I’m still restricting? I can try, but I’m not so sure how beneficial it will be, especially because I’m only really on Step 3 in my heart. Step 1, admit you have a problem. Check. Step 2, came to believe in a Higher Power. Check. Step 3, surrender. I’ve got nothing for you there.

Step 3 for me would be to eat three, moderate meals a day and to surrender my weight.

I keep saying, “Well, I’ll surrender my weight once I hit below 78 pounds.”

Which goes completely against what surrendering actually means.  Surrendering means no conditions or terms, and unfortunately, I can’t do it yet.

Finally Back in the 70s

It’s hard sitting in 12 step meetings with the notion you have given up on changing your ED behaviors. Because then you sit there and say, “Okay, I am working a recovery program, but around what if it’s not the food?”

I ate a cupcake, cookie, and ten almonds yesterday so by the time the meeting rolled around my mind felt fried. I couldn’t put thoughts together and the thought of having to open my mouth and speak made my heart race. I was afraid I wouldn’t eve be able to put a coherent sentence together. I was so weak and tired from not eating that all I wanted to do was sleep.

When it finally got to my turn, despite feeling everything above, words did manage to explode out of my mouth and tears ensued. I told them I had no problems now with Step 1 (admitting a problem) and Step 2 (believing a Higher Power can help me) but Step 3 (turning everything over, or in other words, letting go of the ED) was a whole different story.

I feel tugged in different directions. I feel like the more I make myself vulnerable, the more I betray my eating disorder. It wants to be thoroughly protected and every time I go and speak in a meeting, it’s like I am slowly getting pulled away from the depths of something that already has a firm grip on me.

This morning a bulimic man from the meeting called me and told me he has been where I am now. Not wanting to give up the behaviors. Everything he was saying was making perfect sense, but all the while I could hear my ED telling me not to listen…because if I listened and took what he said to heart, I may actually get closer to wanting recovery again.

My eating disorder can’t have that.

Especially since I am finally 79 pounds again.

That will most likely change this weekend, but just the fact that I haven’t seen that number since Thanskgiving weekend? I am happy. My new work schedule almost makes it easy to eat less. I am actually excited for the week to come to see if I can continue this weight loss.

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Step Study — Step 3

Step 3 — Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God.

1.) Why is making a decision central to working this step?

First of all, we can’t be forced to do something we don’t want to do. Step 3 gives us a choice — we can choose to believe in a higher power or not, but regardless, we have to make that choice. Nobody can make it for us.

Step Study — Step 2

Step 2 — Came to believe that a power greater than myself could restore me to sanity.

1.) Did I make insane decisions as a result of my addiction (eating disorder)?

Yes. The decision to lose weight under what is normal would be an “insane” decision to normal society. Granted I haven’t accomplished being grossly underweight, the want alone to be skeletal is irrational. The amount of food I eat a day could be considered insane, and the things it leads me to do are insane: bingeing, hoarding food, stealing food, eating uncooked food, eating food that is too hot, hiding food, etc. I’ve also gone back and forth on several online blogs/diaries on whether or not I’ve had a problem, I’ve posted half-naked pictures of myself in order to gain attention, I’ve weighed myself and treated the scale like my drug of choice, I’ve gone to insane measures to use the scale, I’ve had irrational thoughts like, “How much would I weight if I shaved my entire body?”,  I’ve completely put having a baby on the back burner in order to continue my eating disorder behavior.

Step Study, Step 1, Part 2

7.) What trouble have I had as a result of my anorexia?

I don’t think my anorexia has caused any trouble, honestly.  If I had never said anything to anyone, my husband would have never noticed, my work wouldn’t have intervened and made a big deal out of it, and I wouldn’t be in the situation I am now of trying to “be” in recovery. Now, I will say it was causing me emotional stress, but that’s more because of the guilt of not telling my husband I was weighing and restricting my food. Now that it is out in the open, I don’t feel as guilty weighing and restricting. I think I’ve convinced myself that it’s not really a problem and that I was throwing things out of proportion.

8.) Is there something I think I cannot get through without “using” (starving, restricting) that will be too painful that I will need my anorexia to survive?

Yes. The thought of not having a child. That’s the last thing I want to deal with and face right now. Right now I’d rather focus on myself and what I look like than have to go through the emotional rollercoaster that is fertility treatment (and for those of you who don’t know…the infertility is on his end, not mine.)

9.) Do I accept that I will never gain control even after long periods of abstinence?

I accept there are certain things out of my control — like work, having a baby, other people, etc. But there’s a huge part of me who thinks I can remain in control of my food and weight. There has been a point in my life where I was able to give my weight up to my higher power (let my body choose what weight I should be at), but at this point, I’m too scared to do that as I would like to stay this weight or under for the rest of my life.

10.) Have I made peace with the fact that I am an addict?

I go back and forth. The logical part of me knows I’ve struggled with an eating disorder since I was 15. The less logical part of me no longer sees it as an eating disorder and demands that it is a choice/lifestyle.

11.) What am I willing to do for my recovery today and why?

I don’t really feel like I am in recovery, but for today I am willing to fill out these questions and go to the step-study tonight with an open mind. I do know I need to strengthen my emotional health, and if this step-study can help me do that, then I will keep going.

12.) What is the principle behind Step 1 and am I practicing it in all my affairs?

The principle of Step 1 is to accept powerlessness over what you can’t control. I think I do a pretty good job of this in all my affairs, except the baby one. I do what I can, and the results are out of my hands. I have no control over most things in my life.

13.) Define your abstinence.

In Eating Disorders Anonymous, there IS no abstinence. No set food plan, no counting days, no “sobriety.” EDA feels that doing so is too much of an eating disorder/anorexic behavior so they focus more on moderation. Eating balanced meals for you, whatever that may be. As of right now, I like how much I eat and it’s gotten me through the week with no hardcore binges. Is it healthy? Probably not. But I feel that if I stopped putting so much emphasis on what everyone else thought of my food intake, it wouldn’t make me feel so guilty. Or maybe, in reality, I feel guilty because I secretly know it’s bad.

Ugh.

Recovery Comments

I don’t mean to offend anyone, and I don’t want to discourage commenters either, but it’s super hard for me to take recovery comments seriously. People in recovery will leave me supportive comments, giving me tips on how to beat this eating disorder. They say how worth recovery is and how if I could just have hope, I would make it through this.

Sometimes I wonder if these commenters even know my history. Like, please, do you even know who you are preaching to? I had almost three years of abstinence from anorexia. Not only anorexia, but all the little things that came with it, like jealousy, rage, insecurity, dependence, lack of responsibility, blame, hostility, judgement, guilt, etc. I was on a pretty deep path of spirituality until I got too confident and stopped going to 12-step meetings. Then the disease slowly but surely slipped back.

I also get way judgemental with these comments…like…don’t come to me unless you have more than a year in recovery. Relapse rates are so fuckin’ high that early recovery is such shaky ground. You may taste what recovery is like, but to grasp and fully understand true recovery? It can take years for that to occur.

And these people in recovery who still slip in ED behaviors or take pictures of their food or binge only twice a week instead of everyday or purge only sometimes? I don’t think that’s recovery. You are either in or out. An alcoholic can’t just have one drink…and anorexic can’t just fast sometimes.

Am I in recovery? Fuck no. Not really! I say I am half in and half out but really? I am just all out and will not find abstinence again until I surrender all these damn behaviors.

Feel free to disagree or whatever, but for me personally, recovery is an all or nothing thing. There is no in-between because those in-betweens are my eating disorder trying to sabotage my recovery.

Half-ass measures will only get you half-ass results as they say in 12-step.