I’ve been quiet for a few months now. Sure, like everyone, I’ve been occupied with the changing realities of life during a pandemic. But, mostly, I’ve been silent because of the shame blanket I’ve been carrying around with me.
Ah shame…the emotion I have done my utmost over the past 20 years to avoid, numb and outrun – to the point where I could not feel it at all. In truth, I had cut myself off from emotions in general…but this is the one that I have always dreaded.
One of the things I recently realized is that I feel shame often and acutely – all I need is one simple thing to exist in my environment: perceived failure. Quite simply, I feel shame every time I think I fall short of expectations…or as my inner critic likes to say every time I think I “Fail”.
As a perfectly imperfect human, with my own special set of quirks and flaws, I routinely make mistakes or don’t live up to the extremely high standards I have set for myself. While others might feel disappointment or embarrassment in these types of situations, my emotional default is the big “S”. And, instantly, I BECOME a disappointment.
To combat this, I have spent years focused on performance, output, people-pleasing and achievement. “See”, I would tell my inner critic, “I got an A+, I got the promotion, I am non-stop at work AND home, I starved myself, I delivered, I performed, I did, I did, I did. I cannot be a failure….can I?”
And so my Eating Disorder became very entrenched in my existence…so much so that I no longer even noticed it and certainly could not separate it from who I was. For many years, I thrived and survived on the adrenaline brought on by stress and achievement. I didn’t need food or sleep when I had achievement.
Which leads me to my latest tangle with Shame – the one that led me to go quiet: my Recovery journey.
Over the past few years, I have been very vocal about my experiences with depression, anxiety and Anorexia. I have shared my progress and, unfortunately, declared premature victory on an illness that has been my invisible “friend” for 2 decades. Every time I shared my progress, I was sure I was “safe” from relapse. I refused to believe otherwise. And, every time, I faced a relapse, big or small, I felt ashamed… so much so that I would keep it to myself and desperately try to fix it covertly on my own…usually leading to severe health issues.
A few months ago, I realized that I was falling into this trap once again. But, this time, rather than succumbing to my shame and retreating further into my long-held coping habits – starving myself and working non-stop – I intensified my Eating Disorder treatment.
I didn’t want to tell anyone about my renewed commitment to treatment. In fact, I told very few people and abandoned my blog. I did this for two reasons… 1- I didn’t want anyone in my life to feel disappointed…wondering when Groundhog day would end. I didn’t want anyone I cared about to give up on me. 2- I decided to see what this next step of recovery brought before I put a rainbow of positivity on it.
When I first started my recent round of treatment, I was given the following challenge: do nothing (no extra assignments or readings) with no distractions, no to-do lists and no goals. This…was…excruciating.
I was completely unsettled. How on earth was I supposed to live without a target to achieve…or ideally overachieve? How would I measure my worth? How would I know I was “good”, “ok”, “deserving”? I had to start to completely redefine how I determined my self-worth.
It has been messy and ugly. A lot of the time, I hate everything about myself – from my new body to my insecure, overachieving brain. Other days, I am at peace with who I am and how I look. I don’t restrict, my BMI is now considered healthy and stable and I no longer turn to unhealthy coping mechanisms to tolerate my emotions. I cry a lot in therapy. Like, a lot… But I am happier overall.
Getting to this point has not been easy. I have had to say goodbye to many things– ranging from some of my prettiest dresses to the Wonder Woman I used to be. I won’t lie…I am still at the point of recovery where I would give anything to be able to go back to the person I was before depression hit and my Anorexia became too strong to fight. But I can’t.
My therapist tells me I don’t want to. I am not so sure; and admitting this fills me with shame as well. Who on earth would want to be a high-functioning anorexic, workaholic who was always running, thinking, overanalyzing but never present – who only knew 2 speeds, full throttle or off??
Me…Some days…
So now what? Well…I am working on diminishing my strong need to achieve and please others. As I do this, I have to continue to follow my meal plan religiously and maintain my weight no matter what stressors I add to the mix. Then I will have to dabble with adding flexibility to my plan (a little extra here, a scarier meal there) without losing weight. Eventually, I will move on to intuitive eating rather than follow a prescribed meal plan – again without losing weight. And so on.
There is still a long road ahead and I have no idea how long it will take. Nor do I know if I will get there. The temptation to go back is strong but I can’t. I can’t unlearn what I know; can’t un-feel the emotions that have now been awakened. As someone I know once said: “I can’t back peddle out of this one.”
gladiatorin4inchheels.com 