Weight Weight...Don't Tell Me

We weigh first thing every morning. At least those of us on weight-gain meal plans do. Eating disorders range from binge eating ("too much") to anorexia ("too little"), with various combinations in between. So mandatory weigh-ins depend on the nature of your disorder and where you are in the process of recovery. The eating disorder center treats all varieties of eating disorder.

I learned very early to single-knot my shoe-laces when first tying them for the day, since this makes it quicker and easier to remove the shoes for the big event. When I arrive, I immediately take them off and empty my pockets in preparation. I feel a lot like I'm being booked in the county jail or passing through airport security. (I've only ever experienced one of these, and I'll let you guess which one.) I feel weird, a bit violated, childlike, distrusted, and angry. When finished with the scale, I tie the extra knot in my laces, reload my pockets, and then make my way to the kitchen for breakfast. Before I came here, my individual therapist back home weighed me similarly before each session. I may have felt just as uncomfortable, angry, or criminalized during those weighings, but I didn't see her five days a week.

We also weigh blindly, meaning that our backs are turned towards the wall opposite the scale, away from the digital screen and its electronic measurement. For someone who restricts their eating, this is not a terrible way to go about it. I stopped weighing myself years ago, because I knew that a pound gained would become two lost in the name of overcompensation. Except for when I initially began to "get healthy and into shape,” my eating disorder has never been about weight-loss. Rather, it has been one way to control something, anything, and I've used it more as a maintenance tool. My fear, on the surface anyway, has been weight-gain; my goal - constancy, predictability, security. Overcompensation is my gut reaction to a hike in the gravitational pull. This tendency can be more or less dangerous depending on how thin you are. Yet, now that I think about it, I've never overcompensated for weight-loss. Indeed, the lower weight has always become the new weight to maintain. I chase my tail only to let go once I've captured it.

So, maybe the eating disorder is about weight-loss - on the surface, anyway. Below the surface, prehistoric beasts are fighting to survive.

Actually, I Am Getting Better

I realize my previous posts might give the impression that I am improving little or not at all. Make no mistake: I am making progress. It’s slower than I had planned, but I usually ask more of myself than is healthy, regardless of how perfectly the planets must align for me to get even close. Unrealistic expectations, perfectionism, “black-and-white” thinking – these are all part of the anorexic mindset, which devolves even further into ridiculousness as the mind and body progressively starve. This is why treatment professionals tend to stress refeeding as the first task of anorexia recovery. Sure, you might simultaneously undergo psychotherapy, art therapy, group therapy, and more. But these require a patient’s cooperation and fairly active participation, both of which become likelier with increasing nourishment. Unfortunately, treatment professionals encounter a lot of patient resistance to refeeding. After all, the medicine they recommend is the very substance the anorexic patient fears and tries to avoid.

I have been meeting and often exceeding my meal plan requirements. I am steadily gaining weight, and I haven’t heard anyone recommend residential inpatient hospitalization (i.e., Anorexic Alcatraz) for me since I first enrolled in the program. I’ve been consistently gaining enough weight to keep the treatment team from pressuring me too much about it. The nutritionist usually adds more to the meal plan (which is a minimum) each week, and she has mentioned that, although consistent, my gains are occurring at a slower rate than she would prefer. But the gains have been large enough and fast enough to keep me here at the intensive outpatient program in relative freedom – between The Rock (residential inpatient hospitalization) and The Hard Place (minimal supervision, perhaps even self-directed recovery, if recovery at all).

Evidence of my progress: Despite continued fear and avoidance of some foods like cookies and similar desserts, I have occasionally eaten them anyway. Friday, I had banana pudding and can admit that it tasted really, really good. Afterwards, I felt a bit guilty and usually do after eating things I had given up to the demands of the eating disorder. That I can choose to eat fear foods and recognize that I enjoy their taste is proof that I’m committed to getting better and am actually doing so, even if I still need coaxing and sometimes still resist. I have also significantly reduced the amount and intensity of my exercise, which I previously used to compensate for or balance my caloric intake, and vice versa. While not totally compliant with the team’s exercise ban – i.e., no exercise for Justin except for the program’s thrice-weekly yoga therapy (which is great) – I’m getting there, becoming more and more comfortable at rest. The yoga helps.

Perhaps the best evidence of my improvement is that I’m willing to talk more about this and with an ever-widening audience. Q.E.D.