Philosophy

“Do, or do not, there is no try.” – Yoda

Hmmm, hang on a minute there Yoda. I am not sure I agree.

When it comes to anorexia recovery, trust me, there is a lot of trying. Sure, there are black and white metrics you could base yourself on to gauge performance: weight gain vs weight loss, eating vs restricting. But, applying the Green Jedi Master’s philosophy to my recovery would be unfair and simplistic.

To be clear…every morning, I wake up determined and trying. And, every night, I go to sleep vowing to try harder the next day. The level of daily effort required in recovery is extensive. And, because the constant battle happens only in my mind, no one – not even those closest to me – can truly see the extent of my struggle.

While it is hard to admit – especially after self-publishing a book about getting an edge on recovery – I have been having a bit of a hard time lately. The challenges and loneliness associated with starting a new job from scratch combined with the return of my depression made things difficult. But, I’m a fighter, I’ve lived through bigger changes. I moved to London at the drop of a hat, weighing 70 pounds, and survived. For years, I tackled every challenge Bombardier sent my way without batting an eyelash. I have proven I am strong.

Of course, this time, I know that I am not supposed to fall back on my default coping mechanism of control and restriction to get through the day. I know this like I know you need to eat, sleep and breathe to live. And yet…the current of temptation is strong and overpowering at times.

So what do I do? I make plans. I bargain with myself and use pep talks to motivate myself.

“Here’s what you are going to do, Christina. You are going to buy a Starbucks muffin today…or…you are going to follow a meal plan…or…you are gonna send out an SOS to your friends.”

And in that moment, when the plan forms, I feel energized, exhilarated. Hell yeah…let’s do this!!

And then a voice…my voice…starts to poke holes in the plan. And before you know it, I have talked myself out of the plan, deeming it impossible, silly and unrealistic.

Why?

Because a part of my brain has a different plan…a restriction plan…a lose weight and you’ll feel better plan.

Having anorexia is like having a cancer in your brain. Rather than attack your physical cells, it spreads like a wave over your thoughts. And it fights to the death to maintain its hold no matter what you throw at it. And just like cancer, sometimes the treatment doesn’t work; and, even when it does, sometimes it comes back, more resistant than ever.

But anorexia is viewed very differently than serious physical illness. People rarely say the cancer came back because you did not try hard enough to stay healthy. Why would they? It wouldn’t be fair to the patient, would it. And yet, I am the first to blame myself entirely for any regression I succumb to. Therein lies one of the biggest differences between mental and physical illness.

But blame gets us nowhere. Only action moves us forward.

So, I continue outpatient at the Douglas (at least for a few more months), I keep looking for other treatment options and I do my best to eat as much as possible to keep me from slipping backward.

Sometimes I do. Sometimes I do not. But, every day, I try.