They Hate Us 'Cause They Ain't Us

Written by: Ryan K
Originally posted: 8/15/2015


Like my Pats reference? No? OK (I love Tom Brady #codeword) (Few will understand)

So here's the thing. Many of us ED kids have amazing sources of support. Family members, significant others, friends, coworkers, teachers, pets (lol). These people and animals can try as hard as humanly possible (animally possible? OK I'm done) to motivate, encourage, sympathize, etc. but when push comes to shove, they just don't understand. Not to discount any of this valuable support we do get, but there is a huge difference between sympathizing and commiserating.

Mental illness is fucked up. When you break an arm, there is a standard protocol and an average time of recovery. If the doctor tells you after a few weeks you're good to go back to work, chances are you will probably go back to work almost healed. If you take medical leave of absence to go into treatment for an eating disorder for several weeks or even months, the chances of returning almost healed are much different. Mental disorders are very tricky. Progress towards recovery will wax and wane, go up and down, go sideways and backwards, zigzag to the left, swerve to rock bottom, propel northwest ... You get the picture. As someone who is competent, capable, an extremely fast learner and has never been stumped by a challenge ever in her 30 years, this shit is a bitch. I'm the person to whom you teach something new and gets it right away. I'm the person who becomes impatient with people that don't get shit done by the time they say they will get shit done. But why can't I do this?

I've mentioned this before: Overcoming my ED is by far the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Not only is this hard, it's frustrating as fuck. Here are some things I hate about recovery:

• The whole thing about the road being not straight. I like straight. I like my Google Maps navigation app. I put in my destination, and Google Maps takes me on the shortest route. I can even choose if I don't want to pay tolls. There is no navigating recovery. There's no YouTube video? Book? Blog? OK. Cool.
• I could eat one challenge food with no problem one week, and then two weeks later when I'm served the same food, my body screams as I eat. I could actually hear my body screaming. I did the whole "fake it til you make it" thing, but inside, MY BODY WAS SCREAMING. You can imagine this being extremely disappointing. It would be like being able to crochet a sweater one day and then three days later forgetting how to make a slipknot. Frankly, it sucks, especially for those of us who are Type A (read: pretty much all of us).
• I could be having an amazing day and genuinely feel so happy, and then come home and use behaviors late that night. WHY?? I thought this only happens when I am trying to cope with hard times? I just had an awesome day, why does it have to end this way?
• Self sabotage. Over the years, our eating disorders have convinced us that we aren't good enough, we aren't worth it, we will never be perfect and we don't deserve love. Yeah, Ed's a real friend. We are accustomed to self-loathe and misery. When we feel hope or happiness, we also feel skeptical. What is this thing you call joy? I am not familiar and I don't trust it. So now I'm going to hurt myself.
• When I want to do something, I do it. And I do it well. I want to recover and I'm not there yet. This isn't frustrating; it's downright INFURIATING. It's very feasible for the eating disordered to stay motivated and happy the entire day and then end up giving in within seconds, without even knowing it. Major suck.
• I like to work. I love my job. I'm good at my job. I have been out of work since June 9 trying to get better, and I will return to work soon being better, but not recovered. I would love to say that I will be, but I have no illusions. But I am a planner, and if I plan to reach a point by a certain date, I will get there. Not knowing exactly where I will be on that date is so difficult to wrap my head around. But it's my reality.

Above all, I hate that most of my outside supports who want me to get better almost as much as I want this for myself (and in my mom's case, even more) just don't understand. But that's OK. Today in program, my roommate said that the most valuable help she has gotten from treatment is from fellow patients. When I first went in, the biggest shock to the system was openly talking about my struggle after 12 years in hiding, and on top of that, having people around the table nodding their heads with familiarity, empathy and compassion. Wait ... I ask if a normal weekly groceries allowance is around $1,000, and you get it? When I finally go to buy said groceries, I say out loud to myself, "Get out of the store! Get out of the store! Just get what you need!" and you get it? I get in trouble for feeling a desperate need to hide almonds in my pants, and you get it? I have anxiety for every minute of the day for several days before my cousin's birthday dinner out, and you get it? I call the restaurant to ask what the healthiest possible entrée is, and whether or not I actually enjoy the meal doesn't matter, and you get it? I skip out on the dinner because I find the menu items unacceptable, and you get it? I feel the need to check the calorie count on light balsamic vinaigrette, and you get it? I skip out on fun after-work plans to go to the gym because I wasn't able to go at lunch, and you get it? I fake being a vegetarian when I secretly love steak tips, and you get it? I look at my menu and say to myself, "So that's my grain, that's my fat, that's my protein ... " and you get it? I force myself to delete the GrubHub and MyFitnessPal apps, and you get it? I put peanut butter on my pork, and you get it? (Shout out to A) I douse my grilled chicken in black pepper, and you get it? I feel addicted to eating enough for a large family and then sticking my head in the toilet five times a day, and you get it? I have vivid dreams about food, and you get it? I feel triggered when people mention the gym, calories, weight loss, chocolate, diets, pizza or how good I look, and you get it? I talk about how it bothers me when people ask, "Are you better yet?" or tell me, "Get well soon!" and you get it? I lie to everyone I love to appease the eating disorder, and you get it? I wholeheartedly want to break away from this bullshit with every fiber of my being but haven't fully been able to yet, and you get it?

Wow. You get me #feelsoclosetoyourightnow

As you can see, there is a lot of weird shit running ("mindfully walking") through our heads. Not only do the non ED not understand, there is also so much stigma around eating disorders, which adds to the shame, guilt, and inability to seek help.

So is it possible to be grateful for both those who fully understand and those who don't? For those who understand, thank you for making me feel much less alone. For those who don't, thank you for loving me anyway.



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Original post can be found at www.ryandoesresi.com.