Compliance is an odd thing

In my recent post, I talk about being “that person” and the lengths I’ve gone to in order to make sure my struggle isn’t seen. Thursday, I realized just how much compliance ties into this.

Art every Thursday has followed the exact same pattern for nearly a month now: work on art projects for an hour, be reminded about needing my supplement at 2, pour into glass and show empty container, drink the damn thing, show empty mug. I’m used to it. I expect it. I do it without a peep.

I was pretty surprised last week when the art therapist thanked me for being so compliant with doing my supplements. I really don’t think I deserve recognition for this because I so strongly feel I need to do it. There’s not even the option of refusing for me (related mostly to being “that person” and perfectionism in general). Honestly the fact that I legitimately do have a choice is super foreign.

This wasn’t fully the case when I was first put on weight gain protocol. I argued and wanted to refuse. I would sometimes sit with a supplement in session for nearly the whole hour, not even looking at it. I eventually gave in because being told to leave IOP is slightly scarier than taking a supplement.

I’ve come to a point of acceptance. I know every Tuesday and Thursday will most likely bring a supplement. I can pretend all I want that it won’t happen or give into Ed’s promise that I certainly gained 5 pounds over a couple days. That’s BS and I know it. I hate this more than anything, but I’m starting to think that maybe my team is right. What if this truly isn’t an okay weight for me? What if this magic number in my head Ed has truly is unhealthy? It’s hard to know at this point. That means I have to blindly trust the process and my team (not an easy feat by any means!).

Does all of this mean I’m making progress? In some ways I think not. Compliance isn’t something I’m choosing because I agree with it. I deal with the supplements, even if the only reasons behind it include not being “that person,” putting on a brave face, avoiding being kicked out of IOP, and appearing to be a perfect person in recovery. Still, these reasons aren’t entirely strong enough to make supplementing my only option. I’m not being threatened to go inpatient or something. I could choose to refuse every single one and not care about treatment at all. I do care about my treatment, though. I don’t always feel like working on recovery, but I show up. I do the hard things. Right now, that means supplementing and every time I’m compliant can be seen as a small step in the right direction.

I am not a great friend.

No, this is not a self-depreciating post. Instead, I am objectively focusing on the facts and reasons why I could be a much better friend.

When I think of the qualities I would like in a friend, I go to past or current relationships and what made them meaningful. One of the most important aspects of friendship to me is that we are there for each other: to listen, give advice, motivate, and sometimes provide tough love. I don’t want to feel like I’m always taking, nor do I enjoy feeling like all is being dumped on me. There’s a balance that allows for a healthier friendship where each person is cared for. Another quality I value is honesty and authenticity. I want to feel safe to open up and be accepted for who I am. Spending quality time together is also important, even if that just means Skype calls every once in a while. This is the part of friendship that makes me feel connected and happy. It’s truly a blessing to get together with others. Consistency is an aspects that I’ve had trouble with in the past. I remember my mom describing someone in elementary school as a “fair weather friend,” someone who is there when it’s convenient for her or when no one else is around. This only leads to me feeling alone, which is pretty shitty when you expect to be close to a friend. Respect matters in any relationship. There are various areas where this comes into play, from viewpoints to lifestyle. I want to note that I absolutely do not expect anyone ever to meet all of these qualities. They aren’t full on requirements truly. I have never found someone perfect which is 10000% okay. There is no need to be perfect for someone to be an amazing friend.

Now that I’ve explained some of what I look for, it’s time to talk about how I often fail to meet these areas. Specifically, I am the worst friend when I am deep into the eating disorder, like where I am currently. I am unable to invest in the other person when I’m struggling so much. If I do end up sharing, I feel like a burden because of the sheer amount of stuff I have to unpack. I am rarely honest or real about what I’m going through. There are some people who know, but others I stay away from it entirely. This makes things more surface level and impersonal. I get that not every person is going to be right to share with, but I think as a whole I need to work on vulnerability more. I isolate all the time. I haven’t even spent an afternoon in the library or anything like that. I start feeling pretty low about myself and also avoid any situation with a .2% chance of food being involved. I have little consistency. I can go weeks or longer without so much as a hello text. Usually I don’t initiate contact, which I’m sure is frustrating on the other side. One area I don’t lack in regardless is respect. It has a lot of value whether I’m in a bad place or not.

I don’t want to use the ED as a scapegoat. No matter how much I’m struggling, it isn’t the sole cause of any negative consequences. The thing that actually affects my ability to be a good friend is my mental state. If I am withdrawn, depressed, anxious, and full of guilt/shame, how could I give to someone else?  Just like when I am physically sick, mental and emotional exhaustion takes a toll on my relationships. Some of this is specific to the ED, like avoiding social gatherings, but the rest just isn’t.

I don’t want to consider myself a bad person because of the situation I’ve been in. I know this isn’t the real me. My values are completely the opposite of how I’m acting. If I can work through these things and be healthier, I will give more into my friendships. It happened when I was further into recovery before and I believe I’ll get there again.

“That person”

Before I start this post, I wanted to give a little clarification (that will make more sense as you read). I in no way, at all, feel that those who are “that person” struggling are bad people, weak, or anything else negative. I have compassion and empathy for them, and I get how hard it can be. When I’m talking about how I feel being “that person” is a negative thing, this is solely my perception of MYSELF. I’ll explain that more, but I just want to clarify how these thoughts/feelings/judgments I’ll be sharing don’t apply to others. It’s a very personal fear.

“Emily, it’s time to get your Ensure”

“All of my clients are kicking butt, but it doesn’t sound like you have been”

“I’m doing pretty well.” “Me too!” “How about you Emily?”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to eat with the group and have more support?”

These are some of many blurbs I wish I never had to hear.

I have had 7 supplements in the past 4 weeks at IOP. Four of those have been in group because I couldn’t manage an entire lunch plus supplement at one time. I hate it.

Sometimes I wish things were like when I was in PHP the first time around. For whatever reason, I felt very comfortable in my struggle then. I wasn’t concerned with being this perfect person. I allowed others to see my struggle. I didn’t finish meals because I couldn’t always handle that at this point. I didn’t for nearly two weeks of lunches. Despite all of this, I never felt embarrassed or wrong because of it. There were others doing way better than me, some around the same, and a few having a really hard time. I didn’t pay attention to that, though. The only way I judged my progress (somewhat) was when it came time to meet with the psychiatrist, and that’s only because he held my fate. If I didn’t improve I would be forced inpatient. Luckily, I kept making progress and that never came up again. I felt proud of myself at the end and that was it.

I don’t know if I was naive or truly didn’t care or something else, but the next time I found myself in treatment yielded different results. I was inpatient the last week of summer before I moved in to Calvin. I knew I had basically zero time and I wanted to make the best of it, since I figured a week IP would be a cure-all. I decided I absolutely was not allowed to refuse any Ensure, which quickly became never be offered one. My reasoning for this was valid: there was a serious threat to my schooling if the doctor felt I wasn’t making progress. It was a mix between the motivation for school and drive to just get out of there that helped me that week. I don’t think I fully realized what changes my decisions then made.

Fast forward to residential round 1, November 2015. I went in with a completely different attitude. I (falsely, oh so falsely) believed that being “good” was going to get me moved up levels/further into my recovery. It was then that I decided I would never do anything that could come with a consequence: not finish a meal, get caught using a behavior, failing to complete a snack pass, etc. Again, some of this came from a valid and reasonable place. I did want recovery and I was putting in the hard work. I even earned the nickname “Challenge Queen.” My drive for perfection mostly helped my recovery to a point, and I never did get offered a supplement or forced to do a chain analysis.

A year went by and then I began coming to groups then IOP at my current treatment center. I’m not sure why, but this only increased the shame when I showed I was struggling in any capacity. There were countless meals/snacks where I was having a really hard time but looked fine to everyone. Everyone assumed I was doing okay because I never said otherwise. One time that stands out is when we had a random food challenge. It wasn’t a snack or anything, but we were each given a bowl with peanut butter, a couple of apple slices, and some pieces of chocolate. I was terrified. I hadn’t eaten peanut butter in a long time. Instead of reaching out for support, I choked it down. I finished a little before everyone else. One person was particularly outwardly struggling. I remember her saying something like “I’m the only one having a hard time.” This was far from the truth, but I couldn’t own up to that.

This summer I tried to let go. I challenged myself to be more open about how I’m really doing. I knew that my recovery depends on it. No one will know what’s going on unless I tell them. It took a lot of work and vulnerability, but I slowly began to speak up. Much of the time this was with staff and not the other girls, but that’s still a huge step for me. By the end of the summer I was no longer afraid to be “that person,” and I truly wasn’t. I found strength in recovery. I didn’t struggle like before, so I had no reason to be dishonest. I felt safe to share. I am truly proud of myself for how much I faced my fears of being imperfect.

I have been terrified of being “that person” again for a few months now. I think it stems from how much I’ve slipped backwards when I *should* be far into recovery. I don’t want to show that I’m struggling. I avoid the topic if at all possible and I’ve flat-out lied to so many people. I find it hard to share the truth in a group setting (although I can with my treatment team). Often times what I’ll talk about in group one hour after therapy is a completely watered-down version of the truth. That way, I don’t bring attention to myself. I can pretend and fit in with how others are doing.

Drinking my supplement in art the past 4 weeks has cracked open my facade. No one is given these just because. It’s an obvious clue that someone isn’t doing the best in recovery. I’m embarrassed, ashamed, disgusted with myself. I’ve wanted to cry every single time, but that would draw attention to me, too. So I sit there and pretend that it’s all fine, hoping no one else will notice.

I have been terrified of what consequences would come if I dare spoke my truth. Wouldn’t that just expose my brokenness and lead to judgments? While some EDs desire to be the sickest in the room, I am the exact opposite. I would rather no one know anything and keep the disordered parts all to myself. I hold in a lot of guilt and shame this way.

In order to put off this image of doing well, I am ignoring some of my core values: namely honesty, connection, and authenticity. Without exposing some of my truth, I am choosing to hide behind my fears of being “that person.” This is only harming me. I don’t need to share every intimate detail of how I’m doing, but I think it would help to at least  open up a tiny bit.

First, I need to let go of my belief that perfection is necessary in recovery. I don’t need to have it all together. Why else would I come to these groups? I’m not there for ~6-8 hours a week for fun, but to grow and get help. I can only receive as much as I decide to.

If I don’t judge others when they’re experiencing what I am so afraid of, why am I holding myself to these standards? Why am I so convinced that the truth is going to prove I’m a terrible person? It’s time for me to challenge this. I can leave space to struggle. It’s okay to be “that person” sometimes.

OB clinical eve!

This is my 4th first day of clinical experience. Every time has brought this crazy anticipatory/excited/terrified feeling that’s somewhere between the night before Christmas and a root canal. Currently leaning a tad more towards the latter, aha. This has a ton to do with the fact that I’m dealing with postpartum women because A) adults after only having kids for 2 months and B) the awkwardness of areas that need assessing.

I truly am freaking out about a lot of the assessment stuff. The acronym BUBBLEHEP is intimidating as anything and includes all of the areas we need to look at with moms. I have this terrible vision of everything being incredibly awkward when I have to ask her invasive questions or perform exams. I’m afraid that I’ll screw up, break down, and cry.

Excitement, on the other hand, is very palpable as well. I can just imagine how squishy and sweet the babies will be. I love babies and specifically newborns so much. I get to be a part of some of the happiest times for moms/families. I’ll be able to teach on a variety of skills and information that can be invaluable to a new mom. Starting now, I will see if OB nursing is something I could find a passion for.

Tomorrow (and the 4 weeks following) is going to challenge me. I want to push through to learn as much as possible. I need to use my voice and ask the hard questions. My professor will be there to support and guide me. I have the nurses too. One regret I had from peds is how little I interacted with my patients some weeks. I don’t want that mistake again now. I have to savor each patient interaction (especially when that includes my littlest patients).

I feel so honored that I am getting a look at new life: the sweet hours or days old babies and their incredibly strong mamas who brought them into this world. I’m not just there to complete my assessments and move on. I can be an educator and help mom learn how to care for herself and her baby. I can give her support if she’s overwhelmed and help in any way possible. I can make sure baby and mom are both doing well throughout the entire day. I will devote my day to one mom and her baby and make sure they both get the best care possible.

I have so much more to say and I’ll try to edit it in later, but for now I’m leaving it here. If I fall asleep in 10 seconds immediately have around 4.5 hours of sleep. Time is most definitely ticking.

Ed’s coming back to bite me

I got an email yesterday that immediately made my heart sink. I have a significant academic scholarship (those years of slaving away in HS paid off, ha) and it’s renewed each year. The past 2 have been no problem at all. My GPA was wonderful, until last spring. It was the hardest semester of my entire life and an extremely low point. I was deep into the eating disorder and depression wasn’t well medicated either. I missed classes, had no motivation, worked my body too hard, never slept, ate very little, missed assignments and papers, etc. To be quite honest, the fact that I got through the semester and my team didn’t end it early is amazing. It was truly miserable. One of the only reasons I could stay in school was the contingency of a higher level of care afterwards. I left for residential before our final grades were even posted. In the first week or so there I was able to find out what my GPA was: not good but .1 above what’s needed to stay in nursing. I thanked God, rejoiced, and tried to forget how terrible I did. I mostly was able to accomplish that, until today.

I can no longer hide from the failures that happened last spring. It doesn’t matter that this past fall was a huge improvement and return to my normal GPA range. I still failed to make the quota, by just .05 this time. Small difference or not, it isn’t enough.q

I can’t change that spring semester, as much as I want to. There is still a chance to get my scholarship back, though. This is through an appeal process for “extenuating circumstances. ” I will need to explain the situation and provide documentation (whatever that means) I’m terrified that nothing will change their minds, but I emailed anyways to find out specifics. I know that R and Dr. C will be in my corner. I just hope that my eating disorder doesn’t take this from me too.

In this limbo period, I’m going to try to take care of myself. If I don’t do that, this semester could he a repeat of 2017 and even more would be at risk. Nursing is so important to me. I can see myself as a nurse in just a year and a half. The whole struggle has been worth it. I just don’t want my eating disorder to cost anymore than it already has.

I haven’t cried yet about this. Maybe I’m still in shock. It’s honestly hard to believe it’s real at this point… It feels like one minute I was a straight A high school student and the next barely scraping by. I’m going to try my best to be kind to myself and allow tears to come.

Now is the time to fight for myself. I can use my voice and be vulnerable here. In the meantime, I’ll try not to completely freak out (easier said than done). Worrying and overthinking won’t help. I have to put more effort into recovery because a repeat of last spring would only end up with me in treatment. I can’t have that happen ever again, so I’m going to fight: for my scholarship, schooling, overall wellbeing, and recovery.

I have to do hard things

I haven’t been doing so hot. I’m trying to accept that this is relapse and not just a slip backwards. If it was just a small slip, I probably would have crawled back out of it by now.

Things have become more crucial at this point. My team has been more concerned lately, and last week I got some news that I’m not thrilled about. My eating disorder has always included solely restriction and exercise, so my weight trends can be predictor of how I’m doing, to a point. It has been trending down for a while now, and I am now out of the range my team sees as good for my body. I only just found this out last week.

Thursday was rough. I had my phone session with K, lunch and therapy with R, and IOP stuff the rest of the day. I wasn’t fully expecting the news they both shared: I am on a weight gain protocol, starting today. In our treatment facility, this means that if I have lost weight or maintained below the cutoff I will be given an ensure on top of my meal plan. I’ve voiced my opinions of Ensure before, but I’m definitely more upset about the principle of being forced to have them (if needed) and not the disgusting taste.

I know what to expect today. My eating wasn’t great over the weekend. I don’t believe I necessarily lost, but I also am 99% sure I didn’t gain. Ed thoughts are strong. All I can think about is having to supplement. I imagine how I could be defiant and just refuse, but I know that can only lead to a higher level of care or being kicked out of IOP/outpatient.

I don’t have any options other than fight. I have to do the hardest thing and drink the damn Ensure. More than that, I need to find motivation to put serious effort into my recovery. Slipping more jeopardizes all of my dreams. It’s time for Emily to become stronger than Ed again.

Dear medical assistant,

Thank you for being friendly. That’s really the only compliment I have for you after our brief encounter last week.

know that I shouldn’t have looked at my weight. As we walked back to the room it was all I could think about. I prayed that you would ask me to list my meds or symptoms or something, anything to distract me. Instead, you asked what my weight was because you had forgotten. I told you, and you immediately said you didn’t believe me. Instead of trusting that I really did pay attention, you walked out to recheck the scale.

You came back and told me what I weighed before (almost 2 years ago now) and the huge difference between then and now. At that point I truly wanted to cry. I didn’t need to be reminded of any of those numbers. I am controlled by numbers like those every single day.

I wish that was the end of the story, but unfortunately, it’s not. I breathed a little sigh of relief as you left, because those were a difficult 10 minutes. I pulled out my phone to distract when I heard you talking in the hallway. Loudly. About my weight. You named the two numbers and mentioned the difference between them. I don’t know who you were sharing this with or why, I just know it wasn’t my doctor.

I’ll admit, part of this problem could have been prevented by me. If I had done the right thing (recovery-wise), the first half could have been avoided. I would instead choose to turn around on the scale and ask to not be told the number because I have a history of an eating disorder. Because that didn’t happen, there was no caution around speaking the weight out loud.

The rest of this is on you, though. I don’t understand how you felt your comments would be helpful. Yes, my weight has changed. Yes, my doctor should know that (btw she did not mention it AT ALL). Did you really need to have that discussion with me? I don’t think so.

What really bothered me about our interaction is that it was just a one-sided conversation. There was no asking about anything that has changed between this visit and last, whether I was aware of the weight shift, etc. It didn’t seem like you wanted to know why my weight was so different. I, like many people with eating disorders, wasn’t about to give that information up unless you actually looked in my chart and asked specifically.

I’m not going to blame you for our private conversation. Yes, things could be better, but I’m used to this by now. Having an eating disorder means that weight will always be one of my least favorite parts of any appointment. I am always terrified of the comments that may come. I’ve had many people handle things worse than you did, and some better. I expect it at this point. It didn’t shake me horribly, but what came after did.

It makes me extremely uncomfortable knowing that any of the doctors or nurses (even patients!) out in the hallway could have heard your comments about my weight. The fact that they may not know my personal information doesn’t make this feel any better.

You shared something highly personal even if it didn’t include identifying information. My weight is not taken so you can provide your opinion about it and share that with the world. It doesn’t matter what the difference is, higher or lower, because making a huge deal about it isn’t okay.

I hope that you will realize that you are projecting your voice significantly when you talk. Maybe you simply don’t notice it, which is understandable. It’s hard to judge how loudly you’re speaking sometimes, I suppose. (That still doesn’t excuse talking about my weight out there in the first place, but moving on…)

I hope that you will aim to approach the topic of weight with some more caution. It’s okay to ask some questions when they are helpful medically. It isn’t bad for every patient to be told their weight (but respecting those who aren’t interested is important too). These type of measurements can be important to overall assessments at times but don’t need to be the focus of your responsibilities.

I hope that you will choose to keep your comments about a patient between you and their care providers. If there was one thing I want to teach you from this, it would be to stop and think. If you are announcing something about a patient, who is the audience? This includes anyone within earshot because they can tune in as well. Who is meant to be the audience? Who needs to know this information? How can you keep the information as confidential as possible? These things are truly HIPAA 1.0. It can be pretty annoying to go through all the training, but these regulations are essential when it comes to patient safety and trust. I honestly do not trust you now, and even finding comfort in the practice is tough. I am now terrified that this could happen again or that another office I go to will do the same thing.

Making a huge deal out of my weight, talking extensively about the changes, using a judgmental tone, and the excessive sharing of it made a simple trip to the doctor a very uncomfortable experience. I hope that if I ever return to this practice you don’t check me in. If it does happen, however, I’ll know what to expect and advocate for myself better than I did this time.

If only…

I wasn’t born anxious. My cousin never lived with us. I loved myself. No one teased me growing up. My aunt didn’t constantly call me “skinny minnie.” I never self-harmed. I didn’t have pectus excavatum or the Nuss procedure to correct it. The media was less focused on the thin ideal. I started therapy years earlier. Someone noticed that there was something very, very wrong. My depression didn’t exist. I had more self-confidence and higher self-esteem. My family didn’t have a history of mental illness. I never had GI issues and lost weight because of it. No one told me that my chest was weird or that I have the body of a gymnast. My family was different. I had more support. I didn’t push myself so hard in everything. I leaned more on my faith. I never dated my ex. I opened up more.  I lived in a different school district. I had more friends. I cared a little more about my own well-being. I had better body image. I wasn’t a major perfectionist. I never signed up for early college. I reached out to someone, anyone.

These things didn’t happen, because then, maybe I wouldn’t have developed an eating disorder.

For a long time, I wanted an answer, a cause. I longed to have this “aha” moment in therapy so I could finally make some sense out of it.

I’ve realized that eating disorders don’t have just one cause. My anorexia makes sense. Because I didn’t love myself, I had no problem harming myself. Perfectionism fed into the need to count every single calorie. I had no healthy coping skills, so using ED behaviors instead was much easier than dealing with emotions and stressors.

When my brain had all of these things coming at it, the response was to turn to food, exercise, restriction, and numbers. Someone else in the same situation may have gone down the path of addiction, or maybe they would have come through just fine.

I’ve often asked why – why did this have to happen to me? Why couldn’t I be strong enough to deal with everything? Why can’t I just be normal? Why can’t I get over this? Why am I so messed up?

I no longer ask these questions, and part of this is because I’ve begun to accept my eating disorder. It happened. I struggle. I can grow through it. There is nothing I could have done differently. It’s okay that I didn’t take more positive steps. I am not a failure because I got sick. This doesn’t need to be the most important, defining aspect of who I am. I will win. I am strong enough to do it.

Boycott the Before – Why transformation posts aren’t all that helpful

We are accustomed to seeing before and after photos – in weight loss commercials, on personal Facebook/Instagram posts, and pages advertising the next miracle drug/diet/magic fat-shrinking wrap. Most of these involve a before body that is “less desirable” in many ways (“fatter,” less fit, larger, etc) juxtaposed to the “better” body picture in which the person is always smiling. This is so common in the media that it’s easy to glance over and not realize what effects it may have on us. While I could go on about this more, I am instead focusing on a different sort of body comparison: before and after eating disorder recovery posts. This is especially important to talk about considering the numerous posts I’ve seen during NEDA week.

Full disclosure, I was one of these people a few years back. I felt that if I could post a picture of my lowest weight and where I was then it would prove my recovery and validate my struggle. I now realize this isn’t the case, and I would like to encourage others to reconsider the perceived benefits that come from these posts.

I do not feel adding in examples will do good for anyone, so I will instead describe the typical images you may come across. On the left is typically a clearly malnourished and emaciated person, sometimes one who looks more like a skeleton than a human being. The right will show the same person but with added pounds and a “normal weight.” There will be smiles, much like with the weight-loss versions, and a caption that explains their recovery and how much better they feel at the new weight.

I am in no way trying to bash those who make posts like these (remember, I did this too!), just give a little insight on why I believe they can be harmful. A quick rundown on how this can be problematic:

  1. Promotes the belief that eating disorders and recovery are both defined by weight. I have run into this countless times before. Many people are not very well informed on eating disorders in general. There are many myths about the correlation between BMI/weight and how they relate to eating disorders. One is that you need to be underweight to suffer from an eating disorder. Considering just one eating disorder diagnosis has a weight requirement, this simply isn’t the case. Naturally, this thinking leads to weight restoration being proof of recovery. If you’ve gained back the weight, you must be cured! Personally, I have struggled at a pretty large range of sizes/weights. My sickest period in thoughts, behaviors, and overall state of mind weren’t at my smallest. I actually haven’t been underweight for a majority of my eating disorder. You simply cannot judge how well someone with an ED is doing by looking at how their body has changed.
  2. Comparison, comparison, comparison. If there’s one thing eating disorders are great at, it’s comparing in nearly everything. The before and afters open up additional dialogue for the ED to run with. Was I smaller than them? Why did I have to gain so much more? Who is the sickest? The answers to these questions may lead thoughts into a pretty dangerous situation.
  3. Too much focus on the physical side of these mental disorders. Quite obviously, changing eating habits, exercise, and use of behaviors all tend to have an effect on the body. Often times this is a visible marker for the eating disorder. While it must be noted that this is the case, adding more emphasis is not helpful. Having “sick v recovered” photos out there magnifies the outward signs of EDs, while we should be focusing on psychological warfare that those struggling experience. This reduces a multifaceted illness to a superficial view.
  4. The before as a goal instead of a cautionary tale. Some viewing these images will flip the entire meaning of them around. They will idolize the “before” as something to work towards. The hopes of a smaller body become possible, as long as they follow disordered eating and mirror the opposite of how the transformation occurred.

There is a movement that I absolutely love and support called Boycott the Before. This week, #BoycottTheBefore, is meant to change what eating disordered recovery is seen as: a mental change, not just the physical one (that may or may not be present!). I love that their aim isn’t to shame anyone who posts transformation photos, but simply educate how they don’t show the full picture. (Side note: I really support and have posted a transformation that was just of my face before and after recovery because you could tell I was miserable based on my expression, bags under my eyes, etc.) I think it’s so important to emphasize all aspects of eating disorder recovery. The mental and emotional healing that takes place is for the most part way more important than the physical side of things.

If you are in recovery, I challenge you to consider posting something this week to show that there is so much more to recovery than weight!

Here’s mine:

IMG_20180307_102026
The first time I started treatment and recovery, I remember thinking that if I just gained back some weight and no longer “looked sick” I would be recovered. I was so wrong. I haven’t been at or near my lowest weight since the very beginning of my eating disorder (5ish yrs ago), but since then I’ve seen way more struggle. I have been a walking, talking eating disorder with no real Emily present. Yes, my journey from sick to healthy, and relapse to recovery many times has included some weight gain. That part truly doesn’t matter, though. What’s the most important are the mental and emotional changes I’ve gone through. I am way more than the physical part of my transformation. 
I’m so happy to be a part of the #BoycottTheBefore movement. The goal here is to focus on where you are in recovery and the triumphs you’ve had without posting a before/after transformation photo. It’s not that those are wrong to post, but more so the importance of opening up a conversation about ALL aspects of recovery. 
I go into some more detail about this in a post on my blog too. {Link in bio}
I hope that by sharing a little bit of my story and thoughts I can promote awareness about and the truth behind eating disorders. #edrecovery #edawareness

Top 30 Anorexia blog

I opened my blog email yesterday to something that’s pretty amazing/unexpected/humbling: my blog has been chosen as one of the top 30 anorexia blogs by Feedspot.

I’m still in a little bit of shock. When I set out to blog three and a half years ago, I never imagined it would grow to where I am today. I’m not one to be concerned with numbers in terms of popularity, but knowing that this blog has reached (and hopefully helped) more people than I ever imagined is pretty great. I’m so thankful for each person who has read, commented on, and liked my posts. I love interacting with others and hearing what you think.

I’m so excited to see where this blog will be in another six months, year, two years, etc. I hope to continue regular posting for a long time to come. I truly have found an incredible amount of joy on my little piece of the web.

If you would like to read the other blogs on this list (which I definitely recommend!), the link is here. I also have posted the badge with link on my sidebar.