It would be nice if our daughters would listen to us. It would be nice if they understood us when we spoke to them about nutritious food choices, listening to their bodies, and seeing themselves as more than a silhouette. It would be nice if all mothers believed those things about their own bodies.
But when in my life,the mental tapes begin in grade six, at the vulnerable age of eleven.... it seems that a lifetime of neural pathways become cemented, resurfaced, hardened, with towns and cities and roadsigns and parkways and sewers and landfills surrounding them. A long way down the road, you glance at your thighs one day and realize that you are forty. Not only are you definately not in grade six any more, but you find yourself to be the mother of daughters who are now navigating that very stage of their own lives.
And although you know for sure that as a forty year old you know a lot of stuff you didn't know as an eleven year old.... You still have plenty of days and moments where you wonder if you have changed at all. You wonder if any of the new tapes you have pumped into your head have taken any root whatsoever. You recognize that you are still hostage to numbers and girth , dimples and rolls, and all the meanings you have always attached to your size or to the size you wish you were. There are moments where your brain still believes that you would feel peaceful and secure if you would just lose that 15. or 10. or 5. And there are even more days where you don't even care whether you would find peace or not. You just want to walk about in a body that is thin. You don't really even know why. You feel like it would be worth it to take any risk, do any stupid restrictive diet, just to feel your pants with space in them.
And then you remember that it was that thought exactly that got you into the pickle that you've chewed and choked on for the past twenty nine years. You remember starving in junior high, puking in University. And you know for sure that you've learned something. You've learned how to eat again. How to enjoy food. You know that you have learned that there is something worse than carrying some extra weight. You know that the weight of an eating disorder is incomparably heavier to carry on your mind and body than the pounds your pants stretch to accomodate.
But your twisted mind with its hardened asphalt highways attempts an illegal u-turn. It engages in endless traffic circles. Like a shameless telemarketer it has a comment book for every thought, every hard-earned new way of thinking. With a smooth voice, it titillates. "Well, Kehler. You've pretty much beaten the eating disorder thing. Now all you have to do is lose ten pounds."
I exhaust myself.
And I think that I can do better than this.
It is more challenging now, in ways. My metabolism has slowed down, what with sleeping at night instead of nursing babies, eating suppers as a family now that Brian has a day job, being able to afford groceries (now that Brian has a day job...), getting older, being on anti-anxiety medication, hating most forms of exercise, and Brian making irresistably good food every weekend with the corkscrew in his spare hand.
I don't really want to give any of that up.
I don't know if I will ever completely, entirely, totally love my physical body. I don't know if I will ever forgive myself for not being committed to exercise my legs to counteract their sag and dimply genetic predisposition. I don't know if I will ever get over the guilt of knowing that it would take some seriously committed pattern of running or aerobic exercise to get legs that don't look like my mother's and auntie's.
Ironically, I don't know either whether I will ever accept my legs the way they are. Embrace the lumps.
There is just something about being thin that has endless appeal for me. Maybe its what a recovered crystal meth addict feels like. Every cell in his/her body screams out for that hit, even while knowing that the chemical that gives euphoria is the chemical that deals death.
On days when I lose hope of ever being truly clear-minded, I imagine that I'm more a case of changing diagnoses. Where the morbidly obese patient might be relieved to achieve "obese" status, I ought to be grateful that I've progressed from "eating disordered" to "weight preoccupied". I keep trying to do the mental work of getting better. I keep trying to feel the feelings and not wrestle with making sense of the insensible. I keep trying to experience life as it hits me and trying not to project failures and disappointments on my physical self.
But I do believe that if I were to truly work my program, my mind would clear considerably, and my thighs would shrink. I've made it that far before. So, today I've discovered the website of Geneen Roth, my body image hero. It was her wisdom that saved my life some 18 years ago, and I believe that if I were to truly re-commit to the way of life that she taught me, I could be up for another rediagnosis.
I'd settle for "Moderately Sane Woman".
12 comments:
after being officially treated for an "eating disorder" i was assessed here, in the Peg, by the ED clinic. I had progressed to just having "disordered eating". Baby steps. it just hangs on. and hangs on.
I hear you and know what you're talking about. One of the things that helped me was to have a chat with my 80 year old self. She told me that I had to live life as if I was thin, as if I didn't care. That's one of the reasons I started biking in the summer and cross country skiing in the winter. She told me I should do it because she regrets not doing it.
don't want to talk a lot of bollocks as if i know personally what you are talking about, because i don't, but it seems as though you should be pretty pleased with yourself working from disordered to preoccupied. it seems as though its such hard work - and i admire you so much.
I could give you lots of nice answers like "love yourself the way you are", "be thankful your healthy" etc...but unfortunately those really don't seem to work...so I will do what I always do when I don't know what to do...I will pray for you dear girl...L (shorter abreviation of Lindalew)
I'm really very impressed that you brave women left comments. I considered deleting this post last night, but after reading these comments, I'm charged up.
The point is to be honest, and to bring awareness to others. Many people misunderstand body image issues and eating disorders. They are complex and chronic. They are symbolic of much more than the physical body.
VR- Thanks for that honesty. It gives me an odd sense of reassurance knowing that someone who "knows" reads here. It comforts me.
Linda #1- same with you. Plus the exercise you mentioned is brilliant. I think I've done that in ways, just not so clearly. Its why I walk differently in a bathing suit now, and wear what I like, and keep growing my other gifts. I fear that this monster could steal my life from me, and that motivates me to fight.
Lettuce- bang on. You are so right. My hang up is that I've actually been further down the continuum- to the point where i was comfortably thin, without diet or (much)preoccupation, and due to some crises, I've lost some ground. I need to learn to look at that a different way, and then do the hard work of regaining that "better diagnosis".
Lindalew- You have such a beautiful heart, and I'm really mushed up inside that you had the courage to comment. You're right about all of it to, and in all the sane parts of my brain i agree. I like me the way I am. but I would never say no to more God in my life.
(soon to Mexico? can I come?!)
I have 2 preteen daughters, and knowing all the pitfalls they have ahead sometimes scares the sh*t out of me.
Hey Joyce,
While I've never struggled to the degree that you have, even as an always-been thin person, I still have some of those same thoughts that take hold and won't let go. No matter how thin you are, you can always be thinner.
I used to train 6 days a week, and when I look back at those pics I can't help but think I need to get my six-pack back (ok, four pack). I'm still the same size I was, but the mind is obsessive about the details.
I have people very near and dear to me who have also struggled with this whole body image thing and have a daughter who periodically falls into the same trap despite my best efforts. It's a vicious circle and I feel for those that cannot escape the prison.
Heather- rightly so. Ironic, that even while we are aware of what we don't want for our daughters, we are powerless in ways. They will still make their own choices. All we can do is provide options.
Crystal- you are one of those people who most observers would probably assume never struggles with any thoughts like these. Refreshing to hear the confession that our fubar culture affects even the healthy among us.
The vicious cycle can be broken. i will again be testament to that.
Great post Joyce, I love it when you write about this topic.
I agree with what Crystal said - even for the always-too-thin, there's constant pressure for thinner. It's ridiculous.
I admire you so much, for fighting the battle, for openly addressing this topic, for writing it so well. You are beautiful in all ways.
Jenn- Really? THANK YOU.
&Leanne- Its easy to write about this because its so close to my heart. Its not so easy to press publish and then leave it there.
But when I read other people's posts where they describe their struggle, and it helps me understand better, then I think that maybe I could be instrumental in kicking down some misperceptions. At the very least, I'm being honest, and I'm staring my own monsters in the eye. There's trememdous value in turning lights on in dark corners.
You know Joyce, I think YOU are the really brave one.
I remember when I was a new reader of your blog. I mentioned to one of my friends that you sure did talk a lot about your weight and I found it kind of distasteful. She then mentioned to me that you had struggled for years with your weight and with eating disorders, and I thought to myself, "Goodness Gloria, could you not have figured that out for yourself and just loved her instead of questioning her motives for writing about this stuff?"
I am sorry for that, Joyce.
I was blind to your struggles.
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