“I weigh 100 pounds!!!!”

I look down at the 11-year old girl in front of me. She is beaming with pride as she tells her friend how much she weighs. For a moment, everything seems surreal to me.

She is eleven. She weighs 100 lbs. And she is happy about it.

I’m 42 and 100 lbs is my target weight. A target I have done many things to move away from for during the past 3 years. A weight I cannot imagine maintaining, even less to proclaim publicly. The same weight a young girl, not much taller than me, embraces with confidence.

There are times when my body size surprises me. Don’t get me wrong, I am acutely aware of my weight at every given moment. But, usually, my mindset is firmly set on the fact that I feel my weight is not low enough. And, then, something happens to knock my perspective on its head.

I weigh less… than an 11 year-old…a fair amount less…than a child. And I still take steps to become thinner…

A few days after my encounter with this beautiful pre-teen, Zoe walked into the room and I did a double take. She was wearing one of my old sweaters from the days before I went into treatment. The sweater fit her 9-year-old frame perfectly. I looked at her and could not believe that I used to fit into the same hoodie 18 months ago.

In these moments, I am snapped into attention. In these moments, I am firm in my belief that I have to change, that I have to find a way to be comfortable in an adult body. The conviction in those instances is strong but the longevity of it is fleeting. Auto pilot takes over quickly and I easily revert back to my restrictive routines and patterns without questioning my actions – almost like I am just following my mind’s commands.

This duality is, I believe, why anorexia can be so enduring. You can know in your bones one thing (my weight is too low) and yet still firmly believe the opposite as an irrefutable fact that must be fixed.

Anorexia is like a clever computer virus – which these days would be powered by AI to “talk to you.” It is very much like HAL9000 in 2001: a Space Odysee . And just like in the chilling film, where HAL 9000 did whatever it took to maintain control of the spacecraft it powered, anorexia will leverage the brain it inhabits to issue commands to ensure its survival.

And this is where the battle with the illnesses needs to be waged – in redefining truth. It requires trusting the voice that speaks up in moments of real perspective. And, when you cannot give that voice credence, trusting that the people around you are not trying to trick you when they encourage you put on a few pounds.

It takes continuous and relentless reconditioning to redefine reality through an unbiased lens. It requires ignoring what you believe to be true and trusting what your loved ones and medical team are telling you is real. It requires blind faith and relinquishing control. It requires ignoring “your” survival instinct, recognizing that is has been overpowered by the illness’ need to survive. This is especially hard hen you have spent a lifetime holding onto the belief that only you know how to best fix things.

It can be done. I know it can. I have proven to myself that I can let go and trust the process. I have done it several times in treatment. The pattern I have to break is in taking over too soon in the process, saying “I’ve got this; I know how to take it from here.” History has shown that I don’t. It is easier for me to listen to the counsel of others and ignore my instincts when I am struggling. My next challenge is to ignore my instincts even when things are going well and restriction seems to have disappeared.

This is where I need to close my eyes, listen to my team and leap one more time.