sick mentality

Some days I want to be sick again.

A big part of recovery, at least for me anyway, was giving up that “sick” mentality. Giving up the identity I had which was someone with an eating disorder. I didn’t have to explain to anyone that I was mentally suffering, it was just obvious from my outward appearance.

It must sound strange to someone who’s never had an eating disorder or a similar disease, the idea that someone could recover from an illness but still miss being sick.

Most days for me are easier, at the moment anyway. I eat when I’m hungry and don’t stress about what I eat or when I’ll eat it for hours beforehand or aftewards. I try not to compare the size of my body now to the size it was when I was barely eating. More to the point, I try not to think about my body size at all.

There are a lot of times when thinking this way is something that comes naturally to me, but in the beginning of recovery, it was always something I had to consciously choose. Sometimes, I still have to shake off eating disordered thoughts and force myself not to listen to them.

My eating disorder wasn’t really ever about being skinny in order to be attractive or pretty. I didn’t develop an eating disorder because of society’s beauty standards or because magazines featured skinny models on their covers. For me, my disorder was never about looking good. However, that isn’t to say that designers hiring skinny models to represent their brands and a society that promotes thin privilege have nothing to do with anyone developing an eating disorder. I’m only speaking from my own experience and reflection on my personal illness.

My eating disorder didn’t develop because I was trying to conform to an unattainable ideal– it developed in response and as a coping mechanism to different emotions, feelings and thoughts I had that I couldn’t control or explain or sometimes understand myself.

One important thing I remind myself whenever I feel nostalgic about being sick is that using my eating disordered behaviors to cope with anything in life is only setting me back farther and making everything else more difficult.

I think the reason that there are times when I miss being sick (and it’s a common feeling among people who are in recovery from an eating disorder, which is also important to remember) is because I was using my illness as a crutch. I was anorexic, and that was my excuse for anything and everything. This was mostly a subconscious thought process and something I’ve been able to realize looking back. Not only that, but being sick felt comfortable and consistent, which is why I’ve found that I relapse whenever my life is stressful and/or unpredictable.

I like to compare the idea of regressing back into my eating disorder to getting back together with a toxic ex (and surprise! I’ve done both in the past). Even when you’re just starting to restrict and follow your eating disorder’s rules again, you know it’s unhealthy, just like when you start typing a text to your ex, you know that you’re going to end up hurt or disappointed.

The thing about relapsing and getting back together with a shitty ex is that they both feel comforting and normal, which is why both happen so often. Personally, I always make it a point to remind myself that certain types of comfort and certain standards of normal are simply mirages at best, and detrimental at their worst.

Unfortunately, it’s a lot easier to learn and use destructive coping mechanisms than it is healthy ones. It’s because unhealthy ways of dealing with life’s bullshit usually require less effort and usually have immediate results that feel good in the moment, but are ineffective and even damaging in the long run.

A huge motivation for me personally to stay in recovery is my amazing daughter Hazel. Of course, recovering from anything, including an eating disorder, has to be something you want for yourself and a decision you make because it’s what you want for your life. That being said, when it comes to body image and mental health, I want to lead by example for Hazel and make sure she knows that the size of her body has nothing to do with her worth. I also want to teach her healthy coping mechanisms for when she feels stressed or anxious or sad, and the only way that I can truly do that for her is by practicing what I preach and doing it for myself.

Another reason I continue to choose recovery is because of my boyfriend and his outlook on life in general. He doesn’t use social media and although he doesn’t make me feel bad or stupid for watching celebrity news or Youtube videos or following them on Instagram, he does make it clear that he has no interest in those types of things, and thinks they’re not only vain but silly. As I explained before, my eating disorder never was a result of following and seeing skinny models on Instagram or other social media platforms, however I do think that social media plays a big role in my mental health in other ways. Most often, when you log onto any social media account, what you see is a highly-edited picture or video that may or may not be a real representation of who that person actually is, what they are actually doing and how they are actually feeling. He reminds me that what I see online is a heavily filtered version of the real thing, and that people who are truly and confident and happy with their lives don’t always feel the need to prove it to the world (and themselves).

My eating disorder didn’t progress because I was comparing my body to celebrities, models and other people’s bodies, it progressed often because I was comparing my happiness and mental health to theirs, which really was only my perception of how they actually felt and thought. Either way, I’ve learned that comparing myself in any way to anyone but myself is a waste of time because we are all on our own journeys, have our own issues, and have different ways of thinking.

My eating disorder began because I didn’t know how to cope with, explain or understand the problems and issues going on in my mind. Instead of using words to let other people know how I felt, I starved myself so that the sickness I felt in my mind was visible on my body, in my protruding bones and thinning hair. I couldn’t explain how I felt, and it seemed like even if I could, no one would believe me or take it seriously. To me, it made the mental illness I had that was very much real to begin with “real” to everyone else.

In the past few years, the stigma and judgement and denial of mental health problems has definitely decreased and people are more aware and understanding of mental illness. I am grateful and happy about this, even though I do think there is still a lot of progress to be made.

Some days I want to fall back into my eating disorder again, but then I remind myself that any pain or stress I’m feeling mentally is real and valid whether my physical appearance showcases it or not.

I’ve learned that I don’t have to destroy my body, my hair, my teeth, my stomach, my mind, my relationships, and my happiness (just to name a few) to validate my mental health. How I feel in my mind is as important (and maybe even more) as I feel and look physically.

Some days I want to be sick again, and that’s okay. It’s okay to be nostalgic and miss things, people and unhealthy habits that once were a huge part of your life, as long as you’re aware that although they may have brought you some sort of satisfaction at the time, they ultimately were destructive.

Some days I want to be sick again, but then I eat a donut and some mac and cheese and remind myself there’s no use in tearing my physical body down just because my mind is suffering.