I've had this post on my mind for a long time. I would like to share more of my story of having had a severe eating disorder on this blog, mainly because I have had a relatively successful recovery and believe that I have a lot of hope to offer to those who are struggling. There is fallout that haunts me, however, even 25 years later. While some may consider this a private matter, I have had enough conversations with others to know that my struggles are fairly common, and sometimes it's nice to have someone reach out and share in the midst of the craziness. It's grounding. And it's always nice to know you're not alone. So here goes. Body dysmorphia is a serious disorder. It takes a number of forms, but one is viewing oneself very inaccurately. This could have to do with weight, or the size of your nose, or the positioning of your eyes. For some, it becomes an obsession. Often in anorexics, it manifests as an inability to see accurately the weight loss that is occurring. For some, when they look in a mirror, they don't see an accurate reflection, kind of like looking in a funhouse mirror where your body gets all distorted. You see fat that isn't there, or a head that's too large, or a nose that's too big. For me, since the onset of my eating disorder, it has always been an inability to see myself accurately - thin or otherwise - in mirrors and in photos. I have thought many times over the years that I feel like I live in a house of mirrors with crazy distortions all around. Let me say this: you don't have to have suffered through an eating disorder to have a variant of body dysmorphia, or at least a sense that you aren't good enough in some way. I would posit that our media with its crazy distorted presentation of what is beautiful/attractive/sexy has seeped into the subconscious of most of us, and the conclusion must be, for 98% of the population, "I don't measure up". Some people shrug off the images and don't care so much. Others figure that if they can't attain perfection, they may as well just not care at all and stop taking care of themselves. And others, a minority, really care, internalize those images as a personal standard, and feel genuinely bad about themselves. This can be devastating to self esteem, interpersonal relationships, and daily functioning, this preoccupation with perfection. And bear in mind that this affects men as well as women. Back to my story: I don't remember much from that year, my 8th grade year. That is probably partly due to the passage of time. But it is also due to the fact that I was starving myself and I'm quite sure that my poor developing adolescent brain was not functioning properly. I was on a strict, self-imposed, low-calorie diet, with no fat, little protein, mostly carbohydrates, and way too much exercise. From the beginning of 8th grade in September 1988 until May 1989, I went from 125 healthy pounds to 75 emaciated pounds. Here's a memory I DO have. It's winter of 1988. I'm standing in front of a mirror, with my sister standing behind me. At this point, I have lost nearly 30 pounds and currently weigh around 95 pounds, but I literally can not see myself as thin. My sister is worried. She is trying to help me see what I can not. I am standing in a bra and underwear looking in the mirror and she is pointing out bones to me. "See your ribs, Em? And see that?" she asks as she points to my highly visible rib cage and my xyphoid process, a sharp little bone that pokes out at the base of my sternum between my breasts. I look, fascinated. I see the bones, I see the ribs, I see the xyphoid process...it actually grosses me out a little bit...but I can NOT see thin. I see normal, healthy, maybe even chubby. But I do not see thin. This perception persisted as I hit 90 pounds, then 85, then 80, then 75. I would have sworn to anyone who asked that I was still heavy, even as I wasted away. Even as my hair fell out, and my fingernails grew ridged, and my lips turned blue from cold by the end of the day in my middle school. I knew, from the responses of others, that was a little crazy. Well, okay, more than a little. I learned not to say much about it. But I still believed it. Once I started to recover, and re-feed, and my brain function normalized, I began to recognize my thinness. I could see it in photos, and sometimes in the mirror. It was strange - there were good mirrors and bad mirrors. Some were safe, some were not. I wrote in another post about my abandonment of weighing myself for years after my disorder, as I was scared about that starting a relapse. Without my weight as an index, I was reliant upon my perception of myself based on mirrors, photos, and what others told me throughout high school and college. Unfortunately, I couldn't depend on mirrors. My lack of a clear image continued. Looking back at photos now, I can see that my weight fluctuated a good deal, and I was slightly overweight through high school and college. I felt okay, though. I fought hard to accept myself as I was. As much as I would have liked to be thinner, I also knew that I was not interested in returning to the prison of obsession that was the hallmark of my acute anorexia. I learned to put less stock in what I saw in the mirror and go, instead, by how I felt and how my clothes fit. I managed just fine - I'm strong and stubborn (or tenacious). Having a full life had become more important to me than obsession about my weight. But the sense of never really knowing how I appeared persisted. The reflection in the mirror would change throughout the day. When I was hungry or had just worked out, the girl in the mirror looked smaller. When I was full from a meal, she looked really large. It was weird, that fluctuation. I could never quite come to terms with it. It is still with me, yes, even 25 years later. Even as I am pushing 40. Even as a mom of two adolescent boys. I weigh less now than I did in high school, but I still see myself quite often as I looked in pictures where I was at my heaviest. I am often surprised (yes, even to this day) when someone refers to me as small or thin. My perception of myself is so distorted that I have trouble believing it. Again, I know not to say much, lest I'm branded the crazy lady, or people start to believe that I'm just full of false modesty. But when I look shocked at someone saying I'm small, or thin, or tiny, or fit, honest to God, I am. Weird? Yes. Crazy? A little. But it's part of me. It's fallout from a serious illness. I'm aware of it, and I fight it. And I have learned some great coping skills. I hope these might be helpful to anyone struggling with similar issues. 1. Reality testing: This can be done using photos, the scale, or how clothes fit. Some days when I feel particularly large, I literally have to put on a pair of jeans that I have worn in a picture where I looked thin to myself. Some days I am sure I have gained 10 pounds and I need to weigh myself for reassurance. Or I look back at a photo and remind myself that I my weight is fine and my current perception of myself is false. 2. Self-acceptance, regardless of how I feel: I need to remind myself that I'm okay, and that I have lots of great qualities that aren't dependent on my weight or size. I would rather put effort and thought into my job or my family or my relationships than, again, obsessing about weight. I think about the legacy I want to leave as a mom, a woman, a friend, and I realize that I just don't want to waste time feeling bad about myself. 3. Physical activity: Exercise always works to adjust my perceptions. It also serves as a reminder that regardless of how I feel, I have an incredibly capable, pain-free, functional body. And at the end of the day, that is so much more important than what size I am. Accomplishments that indicate that I'm growing stronger or faster or even just that I can maintain a certain level of fitness help a lot to boost my body image. 4. Perfect doesn't exist: No, the perfect body so many strive for will never happen. I will never be good enough for the image in my mind, because our media has so distorted not only the importance of a perfect body, but even the idea of what that looks like. So I try to stop striving and accept where I'm at today, and then move on with my life. 5. Awareness and mindfulness: I recognize that the distorted thoughts are there. I, in no way, accept them as normal or healthy. This allows me to talk back to that critical voice, in a sense. "Look at yourself - you're huge. And hideous," says the voice. I can respond..."No, I'm not actually. I feel that way at this moment, but it's not true." Letting those thoughts become a pattern of mind is dangerous, so resisting them is important. I've also learned to breathe deeply and stay grounded in the present, real moment. Sometimes I literally tell myself that "my breath is real, but my thoughts are not". I use this tool in any number of stressful or anxiety-provoking situations, but it's effective against my crazy body thoughts, too. I hope this helps someone. If you struggle with this and are comfortable commenting, I'd love to hear some other strategies if you have them.
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AuthorI'm Emily. I currently work in online education management, but I also have a Masters degree in Nutritional Sciences (my true passion). In addition, I am a mom, cook, avid reader, novice gardener, and enjoy all kinds of outdoor activities. On my blog, you will find articles on food, fitness, weight management, and eating issues. ALL recipes on my blog are gluten-free. Many are low-carbohydrate. Most are grain free. Enjoy! Categories
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