Rewriting the rule book

Rules, rules, rules. The 'number one sin' in recovery from anorexia, I know.

It's the rigid food laws that landed me here, I'm pretty confident they sure to hell aren't going to save me. But still I write them (and rewrite and rewrite and rewrite) always living in hope that I can follow them from time to time, like a good gal' should?

Not in recovery, no. It's like the reactive processes I go through each time I get panicky about weight gain or greed or really just feeling bad about eating what I still see as 'too much' and being a problem. 

Even if they don't get written down any more or signed in blood 'To Ana, with love and devotion from Sarah', I'd be a fool to believe they don't get thrown around. It's more akin to promises of politicians bringing options to the table, to appease people of all persuasions in the hope for one vote.  Constant debate, no actual action (most of the time.)

Let me take you back to my weigh in a week ago. It went up. Okay, so that's been happening fortnightly since I battled April's relapse, one should think, well done Sarah, high-freaking-five. Au contraire. The first things to flood my mind are; "How do I make it stop, slow down..why do I eat too much, I'm too used to eating for weight restoration, what will happen when I hit target and still over-eat...why am I so lazy, unhealthy, greedy...and so on...." Which being sat with him, I talked through with Dr. B sat opposite me, waiting patiently for my usual 'Don't care' response. He then reminds me (over and over) that at this moment I do need to eat this much and not burn it up. Hmm.

But anyway, without a meal plan or food diary these days..I walk away and start scribbling a new 'mental manifesto'. 

I don't need to add that to my breakfast, I could go back to that lunch option, I'll only have that snack once a month, I won't pick at that, I'll be free with that, but make up for it....and so on.

This would be a hell of a lot easier to fight back at if I didn't BELIEVE it was needed. Deep down, when I stop thinking about it and ask myself if I NEED a rulebook for eating. I still believe I do. This also makes 'good-girl-me' feel guilty for NOT following the mental rules I create. Once again, putting myself firmly on the fence and going back to times when I was willing myself to stick to the law. 

I do have major apathy for anorexia's manifesto, I know picking up that militantly-enforced, handwritten and blood-signed law book ends badly* (*in death) But I'd be kidding myself if I didn't admit that I still keep rewriting rules mentally, and finding comfort that I try to stick to them - even if most of the time I do throw the rulebook out the window.

But there is the problem with this manifesto method. Guilt. The need for change, always leaves us open to be brainwashed by rule books which ultimately are full of lies.

I'm not sinking, I'm floating.

But the constant flow of recovery and life, up and down, sloshing about is making me sea sick. I've been trying to sit out the storm. And it's not working. 

I keep having huge waves of 'Jesus Sarah, let go, this doesn't matter, you can choose to live a full free life' and really not caring about calories or control. I'll be walking through the supermarket and feel empowered to choose what I want to buy, cook and eat. I book a table at a restaurant and not worry about the food I am eating. I will swim on for a moment. 

I imagine my life without anorexia, freedom one and for all. I imagine myself reaching recovery shores and the peaceful life I could have. Happy, even. 

But the next wave crashes down on me.

It's like I freeze in open water- too scared to make a choice or my next move, afraid that the one I choose will be the wrong one. Worried that I can't see out the storm and when I do, I don't see my strength. 

It's like I fear that swimming will be a mistake, fear that I can't swim and fear that swimming won't fix me or find me a solution. Worried I don't know where I am swimming too. 

It's not even that I fear the crashing waves any more, I know how to stay afloat when the impact hits. I can catch my breath. 

I don't sink with them, I don't allow the storms carry me back to anorexia. I am strong enough to withstand the current, sometimes. But it's like I go from 'I'm fine to I can't breathe' as fast as lightening strikes. 

But they keep happening and I know they will keep on crashing down until I get to calmer waters. There is no let-up in the storms that happen during recovery. Yes, they get more manageable and less frequent, but they are going to keep on coming. Taking away energy and motivation to move. 

It's becoming obvious that the longer I float by, the more chance there is of a wave crashing down on me that I can't manage. I am aware that anorexia has already weakened me, my body, my heart. I'm aware she'll keep on eating away at my health. With each moment I don't find the moment to swim, the more of a possibility of being pulled under becomes. 

Maybe I need to stop the motivation for swimming being the FEAR of sinking and start believing that there is something worth swimming towards? 

Because it's the fear of making a mistake, the fear of moving, the fear of reaching the shore and not being fixed which I'm starting to think is causing these storms in the first place. 

Time and energy is running out. Playing it safe and floating is not going to save me now. I haven't got time to float, my therapist has made this clear. I've been floating for too long, since 2011 to be exact. A total of more than 200 session so far, it's not endless, they can't keep me a float for much longer. 

I also know that I have so much ahead of me, that I can grasp on to, keep in my minds eye. But sometimes I have a mirage moment, and within this storm, believe I am already there and forget to swim forward. I do this a lot.

And every day I float. I am wasting a day in the sunshine above water. Every day I float, I risk being pulled to the bottom of the ocean. 

"You know what you need to do.."

It's possibly one of the hardest things someone recovering from anorexia will hear. 

In the early days, meals, food, calories, weight targets, blood tests, specific therapy challenges and tasks are set out on a plate for you, they're dictated to you. You really don't KNOW what you need to do. 

You've somehow forgotten everything you ever knew about logic and reason.

A sort of anorexia induced amnesia. 

But from day one I guess I DID know what I'd need to do. Eat, restore weight, work hard. I knew I had to think one thing and do the opposite. I knew I had to run from anorexia.

But I also knew I had no choice, if I wanted to stay outpatient, I knew I had to drink a hundreds of Fortisips, I knew I had to make breakfast and I knew even if I hated every mouthful, even if the world was caving in around me, through hell and high water I knew I had to follow my meal plan.  

I also knew I had to trust my team and what they were telling me. I'd already trusted anorexia and her promises that turned out to be complete lies. She didn't solve anything. 

I knew what I needed to do. I needed to trust in the process. I knew what I needed to do, but fortunately at that point that was dictated, signed and enforced to make me accountable. But I used that 'excuse' to calm anorexia down, I blamed my team and asked anorexia not to be angry at me.  

But now, two and half years into recovery, I DO know what I need to do. I've been learning, practising and doing it for long enough to know and not need to be told again. So they don't. I get told "I know what I need to do.." and they are right. I do. 

I am healthier, I am more aware, I have more of a life again, I am stable. But I am NOT recovered and as much as I hate it or don't feel it (at all) I am not FULLY weight restored. I am not yet fully healthy, either physically or mentally. 

Recovery ticks along. I eat. I am coping with managing the arguments with anorexia and dealing with anxiety. But trusting the process, trusting people, trusting how I feel is harder. Trusting ME is hard.

I will admit, keeping food safe and coping though compensations gives one a false sense of security in recovery. It's easy to say your okay and wave hello from your comfort zone.

Being aware of what I need to do to beat anorexia, escape my comfort zones and challenge myself, but not having Ms. F. dictating food challenges is harder because I know what I need to do.

There is no justification or comprise with anorexia that I HAVE to, I don't, but I NEED to. 

It's painful because it is now the prospect of head on clash. It really is 'Sarah versus Anorexia' and I keep putting that battle off by staying in my bubble. 

I now know what I need to do. I'm just struggling to TRUST that doing it will feel better. So I don't seem to be doing it with any sort of conviction recently, despite knowing and not DOING causing guilt too.

Mindfulness, balloons and tangled thoughts

I've always struggled with mindfulness therapies, often finding it hard to 'switch off' and 'be present'. In the past it's almost been like mindfulness makes it worse. It's sometimes opened up a gap for Ana to creep in. Even convincing me I'm not good enough at mindfulness. 

But one of Dr B's approaches is a little bit different. It's called 'mindful inquiry' (he uses a technique called 'The Work' by an American woman Byron Katie) and I'm finding it useful in untangling thoughts and beliefs I've held on to for a VERY long time. 

I like it because it makes me REALLY think about the recordings on my inner mixtape. The broken record making me ill. Are these thoughts REALLY true? Can I prove it? Like REALLY prove it?

I actually feel like it's slowly combing out my tangled thinking.

So, in therapy this week we were talking about a specific belief that causes me a lot of pain and something central to me developing anorexia. It's a belief I've always carried with me for as long as I can recall. One that's become tangled up in so many areas of my life. One I've accepted as truth. 

Okay, so I admit, I am guilty of taking thoughts and making them my truth. Holding on to them, tightly, especially if they prove my own theory that 'I'm not good enough' (at anything) As Mrs W used to say, despite all evidence to the contrary 'all roads lead to Rome' with my thoughts. 

But what if all these thoughts were just balloons? 

I wasn't born holding any balloons, well, at least I presume I wasn't. 

So somewhere along the line I've caught hold of these 'thought balloons' and held on to them. I've felt like I needed them, even when people have suggested they're not a good idea. I know where a few of the balloons have come from, but others, I don't have a clue. 

We all have so many balloons float past our heads, every second of every day. Everyone does, but they only stick with us if we hold on to the string.

I've been holding on to some of my balloons for so long, adding more, trying to let go of others. They've become tangled, tied tightly around my wrist.

The thoughts began to control me, carry me along, whisking me away. 

People have been shouting LET GO for years. 

But it's not that easy. Even if I try letting go of one, it's knotted with another. I know I need to untangle them first. 

That's what I feel therapy is doing for me. It's helping me untie the strings from my wrists, so that I CAN let go of the balloons controlling me and the direction I go. 

After all, I can't fully enjoy life holding on to all these balloons. 

Maybe this makes no sense to anyone else BUT me, but I know my balloons are labelled with 'Not Good Enough' 'You're Fat' 'You could have done better' 'You're not healthy enough' 'You could be fitter' 'You're not as thin as them' 'You're greedy' and so the list goes on... But they're all thoughts that aren't much fun to carry around any more. Trust me.

What Dr. B and Byron Katie's 'Mindful Inquiry' is helping ME do, is identify the balloons I really need to cut from my wrists and questioning how helpful they are and where I picked them up from in the first place. 

I've then got to be brave enough to let go and hope they whisk Ana off instead. Hope she'll chase after the balloons, instead of me. But It's only me that can release them.

It's also building the reassurance that even if these balloon float near by, because I'm now aware of them, I can choose to grab hold, but trust me, I'm done with these balloons, especially if they bring Ana back with them.

NOTES:
Byron Katie's book 'Loving What Is' is helping me alongside the work I'm doing with Dr. B. You can get it on Kindle or order from Amazon if you fancy trying it too. Like I said, I've struggled with mindfulness before, but this makes sense to me. She's also on Twitter @ByronKatie

Magic Bricks and Castles

However magical they look once completed, you can't build a complete castle with one, single magical brick...

It takes thousands of bricks, stacked up and secured with mortar to create a caste built to stand the test of time and remain standing through storms and wars.

It takes years of help from other skilled tradesmen and women to design and build a structure that fits my needs. It's a process that can't be rushed or dragged out for too long. Time is money in the building trade! 

It's also a process without any exact plans or designs. This stresses me out. I need a plan. Not just a rough sketch of my castle. I'm going to have accept the doodles and work with what I've got. 

The mistake I make time and time again is taking time out from the hard graft of building to look for the 'magic brick' that will complete my castle in one simple step. The cure.

In recovery the 'bricks' are challenges, experiences, positive things, achievements and even just surviving tough days. It's something I've been thinking a lot about recently, trying to understand why I brush off positive things, don't think achievements in recovery are anything 'special' and why I knock myself back. .

That single brick doesn't exist, it is ALWAYS going to require more than one. 

A full recovery, like a complete castle, is going to take hundreds if not thousands of these experiences or bricks to finish.

It's going to take a lot of hard work, whether we like it or not. 

Because I keep expecting one single, magical experience brick to complete my castle, I keep taking a step back to look at my construction and I'm constantly being disappointed that it's not complete.

Positive things happen, like feeling 'okay', sticking to my meal plan, working, talking about anorexia at the Trust AGM or completing the Color Run. I recognise they're essential bricks in my recovery, but I get frustrated that single experiences or moments of positivity haven't magically 'fixed me' or finished my recovery or completed my castle.

What's worse, is this disappointment usually ends in the bricks not being firmly secured in place with the mortar and the walls are continually crumbling back to the foundations.

I'm collecting bricks, stock piling them but not putting my effort into building SECURE walls to my castle. I'd seriously get sacked if I was an actual builder. I keep knocking my walls down. taking a tea-break or giving away my bricks to Ana.

Even though I'm always working on-site, clocking in. Some days I don't believe I'm even capable of building my castle, yet I keep trying to lay bricks. I still struggle to 'see' the completed castle, yet alone imagine LIVING in it. 

This obsession I have in looking for detailed architects plans distracts me. Comparing my building progress with other people's distracts me. The jealously of people already living in their castle, living their fairytale distracts me. As does helping other people put their bricks into use.

I'm not going to build my own recovery by laying other people's bricks for them. I might be given bricks from others or get ideas to put into use in my own construction, they're bonus bricks, but other people don't have a magic brick to give me either. 

Ultimately I need to get on using my own experience bricks to build my own castle.

Buildings are completed though, it might take more than one magic brick, but a final brick will be put into place one day, but not before hundreds are used to build high walls to protect us and keep us safe.

Not the sort of walls that keep life out, the sort that protect me from anorexia. The structures that are secure enough to survive the storms of life and the cold times. Anorexia tries to convince us that her design works, her methods are good enough, but they're not. 

Listening to anorexia's building tips will mean my castle NEVER gets built. She doesn't provide magic bricks either. She's a cowboy builder. 

Having her design my castle and provide the materials means I'd be left on a derelict building site, bankrupt of experience, trying to survive the cold, alone. Sat in a dust land, watching everyone else living their fairytale lives, wondering why I didn't get given the magic brick. 

Letting go of her as a site manager has allowed me to redesign the plans. 

I've already done that, but I really have to stop looking for the magic 'recovery' bricks, expecting to build a castle on a single piece of stone masonry. I need to stop taking tea breaks and get on with laying normal, solid bricks, one by one.

We can all build a castle, if we're willing to put in the hard work and stop wishing for one magic brick to turn up.

Peace talks with anorexia

Most wars start with a disagreement in beliefs, an unwillingness to see past them and the damage they're causing. The inability to imagine a world without them - a deep-rooted hatred for the people who try to convince you the contrary. A lifetime of dispelling all evidence, unless it proves your way of life is true. 

Anorexia is a cult, driven by a powerful terrorist dictator. Brainwashing us to live by a single set of beliefs; 'I am not good enough, I am too fat, I am greedy...' until those messages are all we can hear. They're all we believe. We become her army. 

I believe I am fat. 

The rest of the world tells me I have anorexia. 

Here's where the war begins. 

If recovery is a conflict of mind, body and food, then at its worst, it's like full-blown combat going on behind the eyes and between the ears. 

Bombs, guns, tanks, screams. The lot. 

After two-years of blood, sweat and tears I've hit a point in recovery where the full-on combat and violent front-line fighting is over. I made it through, sadly, not everyone does.

But still no peace, the conflict has moved to the negotiation table. 

To the quiet, on-going peace talks. All the time. It seems as if the terrorists aren’t giving up on their fight for my commitment to their belief (that I am too fat) and it feels like my mind is hosting a full meeting of the UN.

I am stuck in the middle.

Constantly trying to see the good in her ideas and fight for BOTH sides. 

To stop it going back to front-line fighting I need to keep up the talks, because the front-line means messy and painful death. I can't go back there. Ever. 

At least talks COULD figure things out if I can persuade the terrorists to see their way of thinking has flaws. What makes these negations hard is there's no recess, they are CONSTANT twenty-four-seven talks. I can hear the logical views of my allies. I understand and believe their solutions, but it still doesn't seem as peaceful as anorexia's promise of Eden. 

Permanently sat round the table and having sided with the dictatorship, anorexia, for so long, I can see the benefits of both ways of thinking. Torn. Secretly, I sometimes still like the ideologies of the enemy too. 

Although I know I should NOT be fooled by the dictator into agreeing to her rules and policies to FIX THIS situation – because history tells me, ultimately she will always want me to DIE for those ideologies to prove my commitment to them. 

However ridiculous it sounds, It's temping. I guess people DO believe even the most fundamental ideas if they're brainwashed to believe them. Like half of Germany under Hitler's Nazi spell or extreme Islamists trying to find peace with Allah. If they’re offered a pure, peaceful and wonderful life living by their rules, it's hard to snap out of it. They're hearing constant promises that commitment to those beliefs and blocking anything which challenges them is, well,  perfect. 

Living life under 'their' rules corrects sins and fixes flaws. Lies. 

That’s what anorexia is bringing to this table. She's a control-crazed dictator, trying her hardest to brainwash me. Convince me that the rest of the UN is wrong, those 'allies' are corrupting me. 

It might not be a bloody war any more, but it’s certainly not peace. I know ever-lasting negotiations don’t fix conflict. But opening my eyes to a range of new views will, I wholeheartedly believe that.  

Before these talks, before considering an alternative way of thinking, I was religiously, ignorantly abiding by anorexia's rules and ideologies. Recovery has shaken my beliefs to the core, messed with the status quo. 

The scary thing is; The belief that I'm not good enough and too fat were beliefs I was willing to die for to gain anorexia's forgiveness and approval.  I've opened my eyes now, I can see the ideologies are flawed. 

There is no happiness with her, no Eden and she won't save me from myself. 

I was only ever a number in her army.

The Epic Recovery Road Trip

I've never been a random road trip girl. I'm much more a step-by-step directions, plans and packing in order person. I always want an itinerary, need to prepare a picnic and I need to know where I'm going. 

Organised? Yes. Well-planned trips? Yes. 

Do I struggle when I get lost, can't see the route clearly? Yes. 

Recovery is an epic road trip. 

You know the destination, but there are no step-by-step directions, there is no estimated arrival time and you're behind the wheel, whether you like it or not. 

There's no escaping the fact that you NEED to be on-board and buckled up for the journey to happen. 

You're controlling the wheel, the accelerator and the brakes. This journey needs you as much as you need the journey.

It's never going to happen without you, you can sit in the car forever, but if you're not willing to start the engine, then you'll never get to your destination. 

Therapists, friends and family are passengers helping you out, advising you of the roads to avoid and reminding you that turning back and driving straight back home is a waste of what could potentially be the best holiday of your life at the other end. 

That U-turn and drive back seems so tempting when you're hot and bothered and a little bit lost. You know the way home and you know it's safe, comfortable and what's waiting back there. You can shut the front door and pretend you weren't really 'that bothered' about the trip or holiday anyway. (Yeah, right!)

You know the destination exists, people have been there before and told you how epically amazing it is. You'll love it, you know you will. You're so far into the journey that I'd would be ridiculous to turn back now, (I can't just stop here, and seriously, what a waste of fuel that would be, right?) 

You have so much baggage,  'ARE WE NEARLY THERE YET?' is constantly going round your head and there are still no clear directions.

You just wish someone could give you some idea of the next step or turning or better still, drive for you. But they can't.

It's frustrating, it's annoying, I started the engine, I want to drive, I'm on-board, I've been driving for SO LONG. I just want to know when I'll get there, as do my passengers.  

I need a list, I need to know which exit sign I need to take and what the next road looks like. I can feel the need to know where I am heading stopping me. So, I keep slamming the brakes on until someone answers me.

But that's getting me nowhere. 

This road trip is a long one (think Route 66 times a hundred) with so many potholes ready to trip you up and there is never going to be a step-by-step route planner that works for everyone, we all find a different way to the same destination, from different start points. 

I guess we just need to trust the driver and not give up on what will possibly be the most epic road trip we'll ever embark on. 

Nobody likes being left at home (or worse still a motel or motorway service station half way there) and remember, you need to keep the fuel tank full to keep driving and trust the road you're on. You might not have a map, but you're doing okay. The journey can be an adventure too, if we allow it to be.

Now, can someone just get this girl a bottle of Diet Coke, a picnic and SatNav please?

Recovery Sharks

In a 'perfect' world, the 'Recovery Ocean' would be clear and simple to swim. But we all know there is no perfect world and this ocean's one of the most terrifying out there.

So by choosing recovery, we're swimming an ocean full of challenges, fear, other people attempting the same excruciating swim as us. We're met with never-ending waves of danger and decisions.

But ultimately those dangers are there, whether we're swimming or not, although by treading water in an ocean of fear we're not escaping. We're still at risk of sinking, or being caught.

So, say, while treading water, you're suddenly surrounded by sharks. 

Now what?

Sharks ahead, sharks behind. 

Which ever way I choose to swim, it feels like a risk, a danger. But there's a big difference between those two schools of sharks that have suddenly surrounded me;

If I swim back to shore, the anorexic sharks I thought I'd out-swam are there.

They will circle, trap and devour me. 

They know my fear, they feed off it. There will be no escape.

I'll be dragged backwards, downwards 

                            screaming to the bottom of the dark ocean. 

But if I choose to swim ahead? 

Of, course, I can see the other sharks, they look equally as fierce, I've not come across them before.

It is going to take some real courage to swim on, face them and keep my calm.

But if keep swimming, eventually they'll part and let me through. 

The recovery sharks will realise MY strength and courage and they'll not smell my fear.

If I swim forward, the ocean will eventually clear.

I'll be able to see around me, enjoy the crystal-clear waters with the other swimmers who've pushed past the fears, dangers and shark and I'll be able to come up for air, I'll be able to breathe.

But it's going to mean initially facing those equally terrifying recovery sharks and swimming through them.

It's going to take everything I've got, it's going to mean seeing past the immediate fear, it's going to take focusing on what's waiting for me in the warm, calm and clear Recovery Bay.

And my god, the water is beautiful isn't it?