Healthy vs. Disordered : Where is the Line?

I was already half-way into my anorexia when I walked into my high school Health class. Surrounded by jocks, druggies, and preps I had no intention of talking to, I kept to myself and half-listened as I munched on the bag of pretzels I brought everyday.

I tuned out most of the information. The effects of cigarette smoking didn't bother me- I didn't smoke. I already knew about AIDS. I had no interest in the life-expectancy of my generation, and I did not care to know about the intricacies of broken bones.

The only thing I cared about was losing weight.

So, naturally, when the lessons on healthy eating and eating disorders emerged from the rubble of all other health inquiries, I listened. I took mental notes and convinced myself that I needed to be healthier. Unaware that my behavior already classified as anorexia nervosa, I embarked on a quest to be thinner, healthier, and happier.

All thanks to the multiple videos and chapters from the otherwise uninteresting health class.

I think there is a fine line when educating the public about eating disorders and "healthy" living. Yes, we should be aware of eating disorders, but how much information do kids in high school really need? Do elementary school kids need to be exposed to the black and white thinking many health classes teach? To be perfectly honest, I think most of our culture has a disordered way of eating and health classes tend to reinforce those ideals. We have to be careful to teach about true health, not health for the sake of pushing our appearance-driven standards onto children.

There is a line.

Yes, eating disorders are a result of many, many factors, but as a community we still have a responsibility to eliminate the factors we can. Instead of focusing on weight, we can focus on the overall health of the individual. Instead of presenting extremes, we can teach kids moderation. Instead of labeling food as "good" and "bad", we can call it what it is: food. I think we, as a culture, need to relearn the true definition of healthy living before we can pass it on to the next generation. Otherwise, we will only reinforce disordered and unhealthy behavior.

There is a lot of talk in the "eating disorder world" about Michelle Obama's campaign against childhood obesity, and- unlike most people- I support her efforts.

To an extent.

It's all about that line. If we stay on the health side of the line, we as a nation will be better off. If, however, we reinforce the beliefs most people today view as "health", we are only setting ourselves up for failure. Pushing people toward eating disorders on the opposite scale will not benefit our country; it will just be a different problem.

How about meeting somewhere in the middle and accepting everyone for who they are as they find their way to health? Moderation will be the key to this campaign's success- moderation in thought and behavior. Anything more or less will only keep us in the unhealthy state we currently reside.

What are your thoughts? How will this initiative affect those with eating disorders? Do you think it will prevent them, fuel them, or have no effect?

Who's to Blame?

"It's not my fault."

I am sitting on the couch in front of therapist #2. He just asked me why I chose to give into the behaviors of my eating disorder. I tell him it wasn't my choice. Instead, I list off people who influence my decision, chemicals in my brain that make me react, circumstances that warrant erratic behavior, and the food that taunts me day and night.

"It's their fault," I say as I glance out the window into the parking lot below. "They made me do it."

His eyebrows rise and anger burns instantly in my chest. "What does he know, anyway? He's just a therapist; he knows nothing about the reality of an eating disorder." I let my thoughts carry me away from the situation at hand and encamp on the reasons I am sitting here in this office. So many reasons, and so much ammunition to fire out blame.

He infuriates me more by staying silent. I stare at him until I can take the silence no longer.

"What do you want me to say? It's the truth."

More staring and eyebrow raising. I swear- this man will send me to the crazy house.

"Fine. You want me to talk? I'll talk. I know you want me to say that this is my fault. I know you want me to sit here and tell you how horrible a person I am. Well guess what? I know I'm a horrible person. If I didn't believe that, I wouldn't be sitting here. I know I have issues, and I know you assume that I am the only one to blame. So listen to me say this and be sure to write it down on that yellow pad of yours: It's. My. Fault."

I slump back in my chair and wait for his response. Five minutes later he shifts his weight in his chair and says, " You don't believe that."

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Blame plays an important role in the recovery process. At the beginning of the eating disorder, anyone and anything is to blame. I blamed the people in my life for my problems. I listed circumstance after circumstance of traumatic events. I even studied my personality and used it as the basis to cast blame. Nothing was my fault. I assumed no responsibility for my actions, and my eating disorder, as a result, spiraled quickly out of control.

With that loss of control came the realization that I did have some control. I did not have control over the events or people in my life, but I was in control of the way I acted in response to those people and events. I was the one who made the choice to lean on destructive behaviors instead of dealing with the circumstance constructively.

I was to blame, at least in part.

Eating disorders are complex problems that are formed in response to many factors. The media is not solely to blame for the idealization of thinness. Family is not the sole factor in developing an eating disorder. Traumatic events play a part, but so does the personality of each individual. There is not one reason I developed an eating disorder, and there is not one single reason you developed one either. Life brought in a variety of factors; I just chose to focus on those factors instead of my personal responsibility to get better.

Jenni Schaefer has a short video that speaks powerfully into this topic. We cannot place the blame on a certain individual or thing in our lives. We have to acknowledge that this is a complex issue, and-more importantly- take our role in getting out of the mess.

You decide today if anyone and anything is to blame.

Blinders

Five months ago I packed up life as I knew it and moved across the country in pursuit of the work God was doing in my life. Confident of the victory I had sustained, I gave my eating disorder no second thought.

“I’m free,” I told myself. “There’s no need to worry about that anymore.” So I made the journey unprepared, unarmed, and blind to the trials about to come my way. The moment I convinced myself that I was invincible was the moment I positioned myself back into the prison of my own creation.

Finding myself with way too much time and too many emotions, I fell back into the familiar patterns of bulimia. The adventure I had so passionately followed God on suddenly became a nightmare of my own creation. Addiction became real in my life once again, and I could not figure out how to break the cycle that made its daily rounds. Everyday I promised myself that I would not give in, and everyday I found myself breaking that promise. It was a vicious and disappointing cycle for someone who had already “found freedom”.

During this time, I gave up on God. I was angry that He would let me fall back. I was disappointed that He hadn’t warned me of the temptation to come. I had no desire left for Him, and I didn’t believe in His freedom. If He truly freed me, I often asked myself, then why was I struggling again? Either God was not who He said He was, or I was the problem that started the sinking ship.

I couldn’t bear to think I was the one to blame, so I blamed God.

It was quite ironic really- this place I found myself. I was working for a church and telling people about God, yet my own faith was in shambles. I was so desperate to keep silent about my struggles that I lived in constant terror that someone would find out. Fear latched onto everything I did, and I hid behind the cloak of aloofness instead of living authentically. I felt like a lie because I was living a lie. I felt like a failure because I was missing the standards I had set in my own life. I felt defeated because I had let the sin in my life walk through my front door and take me captive.

In a word, I felt hopeless.

It’s an odd place to be, this state of hopelessness. It’s a state bordering on the brink of despair and denial. Despair of what I’ve made of my life, and denial that life will ever get better. It’s a state that literally leaves you without hope, hence the name. It’s a state shunned by common day Christianity, for the Bible says that Christ is our hope and if Christ isn’t your hope, then you do not know Christ.

I was in despair over my loss of hope not just because my life felt so out-of-control, but also because I felt as if my identity in Christ had been a lie. “If I can get to this point of hopelessness,” I would ask myself. “Then was I even a Christian in the first place?”

This question pestered my thoughts day-in and day-out. It tormented me. Christ had been my everything before utter chaos moved back into my life. How could THAT have been a lie?

It took a call from one of my friends to open my eyes to the reality of my own life. This particular friend is what one would call “guy crazy”. As in, I can never keep track of her crushes because they change according to mood, location, and day of the week. She started talking about a guy who was perfect for her; he had everything she’s been looking for except one thing: he already had a girlfriend. She sighed in defeat, admitting that nothing would ever happen. That’s the last I heard from her.

Then, a week later, she called me again. “I’ve done something stupid”, she told me as soon as I picked up the phone. I knew what she was about to say, but I continued listening anyway. She proceeded to tell me how this guy (who still has a girlfriend) told her she was unlike any girl he had ever known. He said he could talk to her in a way he couldn’t talk to anyone else. He promised to break up with his girlfriend when the time was right.

So she slept with him… and called me crying when she hadn’t heard from him for a week.

As I hung up the phone, I wondered how someone so smart could be so blind when it came to guys. She didn’t see that by still being with his girlfriend, he wasn’t expressing the truth. She didn’t see how double-sided he was; all she saw was what she wanted to see.

My talk with my friend made me think about my own life. How many times do I put on the blinders in my own life? How many times do I see a situation for what it is, but instead of turning away and dealing with reality, I put on the blinders to block out what I do not wish to see?

What I found was this: I like to live with the blinds pulled down. When I moved to Fort Collins, I put on the blinders. Instead of acknowledging the temptations and dealing with them, I pretended they weren’t there. Instead of facing the mess I had made, I pretended that everything was fine. Instead of trusting that God was still there, I put on the blinders and missed every appearance He made in my life. I was blind to the person I had become and the life I was living.

It took me taking off those blinders to finally find my way back to freedom. I had to roll up the shades in order to see that God was still active in my life. When the blinders came off, the hopelessness subsided. The sun was allowed to shine once again.

What area in your life do you seem to pull the blinders over most often? If you are anything like me, you pull them down over many areas. I challenge you to pull those shades up one by one and look at life as it really is. You will find more often than not that it’s not the situation that is hopeless, but the perception in which you’ve been looking at it.

And when you can look at a situation for what it really is, you can start to move forward in a positive direction.

The Lie of Thin

Walking down the street

All the beautiful people I meet

Perfect, toned, and sleek

With the devil beneath their feet.

Believe it or not, there was a time when I thought I was beautiful. Long ago before the lie ever set in, I could look in the mirror and not be ashamed of what I saw. My reflection was simply my reflection. I had brown hair and big brown eyes. My best friend had blonde hair and blue eyes, and that was just the way it was. I never even thought things could-or should- be different.

Until the lie swept into my life, leaving traces of itself everywhere I looked.

I don’t have an exact date, time, or place. In fact, I can’t even tell you when it happened. All I know is that one day the little girl in the mirror was no longer fascinated with the girl on the other side. Beauty died somewhere between make-believe and real life. Reality stepped in, took her by the hand, and led her down an unpaved road. The journey started out wondrous and new, but pretty soon the woods became just a little too dark, the fog a little too thick, the breeze a little too cold.

The lie swept in with the wind, and my view of myself changed in an instant.

Instead of reflecting truth, the image in my mirror reflected what I thought of myself. Cold eyes replaced warm, friendly ones. Fear replaced the expression of security. The body I saw in the mirror reflected the feelings I held of myself on the inside.

My eating disorder developed on the wings of the lie. The moment I looked into the mirror and believed that I was no longer acceptable was the moment I opened the door to my eating disorder. Hearing the lie was not breaking point; believing the lie was.

You see, when we begin to believe the lie that we are not good enough, we search for ways to prove our worth. We think that by changing our bodies we will gain beauty and acceptance. We think that conforming to someone else's definition of beauty will prove the lie wrong.

Only the lie remains.

It whispers that thin is better than health, relationships, and all the values we used to hold dear. It pushes us toward extremes we would have never considered before. It infatuates us until we cannot help but to believe. And once we begin to believe, it knows it finally has you. Because you will fight for what you believe in.

I have no doubt that the devil is behind the lie. Having studied human beings since the beginning of creation, he figured out long ago that we are hooked once we believe the lie. Adam and Eve proved it in experiment one, and we continue to prove it today. Belief will change one's life, for better or for worse.

Jesus referred to the devil as "the father of lies" (John 8:44). He started lying in the beginning, and he continues on to this day. His passion is to divert our attention to his lies and reign us in with belief, for he knows that the moment we look in the mirror and say, "THAT'S my truth" is the moment we grab his hand and follow him.

The devil knows the power of the lie; we do not.

Every thought has the potential to build or destroy. Are you going to believe the truth? Or are you going to give up your life to the lie?

That's a decision you and I have to make everyday.

The Little Things

It's the little things in life.

It's the little things that seem to grate on my soul more than anything. It's the tiny things that seem to get blown way out of proportion. It's the minuscule details that threaten to ruin a perfectly good day. It's the little things in life that cause me to go overboard on the emotional ship.

This week has an overboard kind of week.

My plans were kicked to the wayside to make room for God's plans, and let's just say that I did not stand aside idly. In fact, standing is too neutral of a word. I might possibly have been seen jumping up and down in tantrum stance on the side of the road.

Just maybe.

And it would not have been a big deal if I moved on with my week... but I didn't. I let my disappointment fester. I let my anger seethe out tear by tear and allowed bitterness to camp on site. My life was a whirlwind of emotions and, rather than tame the sea in a healthy way, I chose to let the waves keep slamming the shores of my life. As I began to sink under the effects of so many emotions, I realized that not dealing with my emotions is just as bad as dealing with them in a negative manner.

Dealing with my emotions with food does not solve the problem screaming for attention; it just pushes the mute button. When I make the choice to use food to solve the anger in my life, I am not effectively dealing with the emotion. In fact, I am only building the volcano.

Wallowing in my emotions is no better. You see, when I sit in the pain, anger, disappointment, and sadness, I am doing just that: sitting. I don't attempt to sort through the situation. I don't try to move on.

I just sit.

Sit and sulk... and wait for the next catastrophe to occur. As the emotions pile higher and higher, my energy for life grows smaller and smaller. The little things that shouldn't be a big deal become a big deal, and I start to harbor resentment in my bones.

It's not a pretty picture, but it's one that needs to be painted.

At some point, we need to move on from not using eating disorder behaviors to actually dealing with the emotions. Yes- taking food out of the equation is great progress, but is it really effective if all you do is drown in the sea of emotions?

No.

There has to be a way to effectively deal with those emotions without food. There has to be a way to handle the disappointments and heartache in life without sinking. There is a way, and as this week goes on, I'm going to show you how to find it.

The Weighty Issue

"Girl, you look like you've gained weight."

Her words were asphalt against my newly developed skin. It had been four months since I had seen my friend, and I can honestly say this was not the kind of greeting I expected. I expected excited conversations and maybe a word or two about how great I looked.

Not the dreaded self-esteem killer.

Our time was cut short because of that one remark. As we talked, my eyes traveled to and fro across the art hanging behind her. I could not bear to meet her eyes for fear that she would see an additional five pounds lurking in the depths of my soul.

In an instant my friend became just another negative voice beckoning me to give in once again to the all-consuming quest of thin.

Every time I looked into the mirror that night, her words echoed through the glass: "You've gained weight." It was like a death sentence had been spoken over me. I began second-guessing the people in my life, wondering why they never commented on my obvious failure. I looked people in the eyes when they saw me, waiting for that moment of weight-gain recognition to reflect in their face. My mind made assumptions that my reality hesitated to believe, and I was left battling out the situation in my head.

The truth is, real-Alexis was not all that bothered by the comment. I had finally reached a place in my life where I was happy with my body. The number on the scale did not hold the key to my happiness, and I cared more about the health of my body than the shape of it. Eating disorder-Alexis, on the other hand, was wrecked by the comment. Eating disorder-Alexis places her whole identity in appearance. If the number on the scale rises, she freaks. If someone points out a flaw in her appearance, she avoids the world until that flaw is fixed to perfection. Eating disorder-Alexis places way too much responsibility on the opinions of others.

In order to move past my friend's comment, I had to make a choice. I could accept my friend's comment as merely her opinion and continue to live my life, or I could hold tight to her words and slowly construct my destruction zone. I chose to keep living. I chose to keep believing what God says about me and embrace truth. I chose to keep placing one foot in front of the other and continue my journey of recovery.

People will always have their own opinions about your appearance, but if you want to live in full recovery, you can't depend on their opinions. Being in recovery means dealing with the good comments and the bad comments. It means moving past the eating disorder voice and evaluating your own health before thinness. It means refusing to let anyone change your opinion of yourself in the time span of five minutes.

Eating disorder recovery is not about ignoring the negative comments of others. Recovery is not denial; it is facing the truth. Recovery is listening to those comments with a stable mind (hard- I know!) and deciding what to do with the comments when the other person has walked away. It is a stable state in a rocky boat. It is the hand you cling to when everything else seems so uncertain.

I don't have this process anymore figured out than you, but I know the One who paves the path and shows us the way. God has not abandoned us to fight these battles on our own. He has equipped us with the armor we need, and He stays by our side when we let the enemy's taunts pierce our hearts beneath the armor. His truth heals the wounds and gives us the strength to face the world again. He gives us the courage to look into the eyes of those around us without fearing their thoughts.

Because most of the time, you will be met with eyes that accept you just as you are, no matter what you weigh.

Defining 'Normal'

I was so proud of myself: I ate like a normal person.

When the waiter brought out the plate of food, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. It could have fed three people... and then some.

Not the best scenario for someone who has struggled with anorexia and bulimia in the past. I knew in that situation that I had three choices: I could eat too little and be starving in 30 minutes; eat too much and feel guilty for the rest of the night; or eat until I'm satisfied and join in on the "normal".

I chose to be normal.

Only it didn't really matter. As the waiter came around to pick up the plates, the person sitting next to me made the dreaded comment.

You know the one: "Is that all your eating? You barely touched your food!"

Thanks, dude.

The truth is, I ate a healthy portion... it was just different from everyone else sitting around me. Nevertheless, I beat myself up for days. I doubted in my judgement. I doubted in my recovery. I doubted in my normalcy.

Then it hit me: what is normal? If eating your entire meal (of which could feed THREE people) is normal, then do I really want to be normal? If being "normal" forces me to be unhealthy in the opposite extreme, is that really better?

No.

I have this theory: If we were to sit every person down and inspect their eating habits, I bet 99% of them would fall into the category of "disordered eating". I mean, look around you. People have some crazy eating habits.

One of my greatest challenges coming out of my eating disorder was figuring out what "normal eating" looked like. My eating habits had always been a little odd, even before the eating disorder. So how was I, a life-long "odd eater", supposed to balance food and freedom?

Good question.

Step One: Get a sticker chart... or a meal plan. When I first began seeing a dietician, I had no idea what a normal portion size looked like. And the food pyramid? Yeah, non-existent in my life.

Needless to say, all of that soon changed.

Working with a dietician steered me in my direction of "normal". Even though I kicked and screamed all the way to the appointments, the foundation was laid. I knew what a typical meal plan looked like... I just had to follow it.

For incentive, I bought some pretty awesome sparkly schoolgirl stickers to reward myself for sticking to my meal plan. It didn't take long for the meal boxes to get lost in the sea of sparkly goodness.

So if decorating your meal plan makes following it more appealing, by all means- go for it.

Step Two: No More Labels

Throw out your fancy-schmancy food labeler. It will be of no use to you at this point in your recovery. It's time to start over and look at food for what it really is: food. There is neither "good" food nor "bad" food... it's all just food. Once you live by this principle, "normal" will become, well, much more "normal".

Step Three: Remember That His Normal is Not Your Normal

Food Wars.

On my quest to figure out "normal", I fell into the trap of comparison. Every time I sat down to a meal, I would compare my food choices to everyone else. Depending on the person I was sitting with, I either lost or won at each meal.

Such was the case at dinner that night. I lost the war.

Or so I thought.

The truth is, I can't base my "normal" on somebody else's. The moment I follow someone else's rules for food is the moment I bind my hands in the chains of my eating disorder once again. It doesn't matter if my actions aren't typical of the eating disorder... if I am submitting to anyone's food rules, I am in bondage once again.

So what have I learned?

Only I can define what is normal for me. Only you can define what is normal for you.

And the moment we define it is the moment we relish the life of freedom.

This is Me

There is one word that comes to mind when I think about describing myself: weird.

I can't walk into a store without buying something... I don't want them to think I'm stealing anything.

I enjoy going to the movie theater by myself... no one can make fun of me for crying in the middle of predictable chick-flicks.

I eat ice cream when it's 15 degrees outside, and I drink coffee when the temperature is in the 90's.

I'm a neat freak who has a really hard time keeping my car clean. Seriously- it hasn't been washed in MONTHS.

I dream of having a baby deer... for a pet.

I want to marry a firefighter (don't ask), and I've always wanted to go to New York and audition for a show... just because I can.

And when I'm driving by myself, I totally have conversations in my car.

Like I said, I'm weird. I have my own idiosyncrasies, and-for once in my life- I cherish them. I love the unique qualities that make me "me". I love having a personality, and I am not ashamed of who I am.

Because there was a time I ceased to exist.

Eating disorders tend to do that to you; they are identity destroyers. When the eating disorder moves in, all traces of the real you are forced to move out. You look in the mirror and gaze back at an unfamiliar face. You go through the motions of your day, enjoying nothing and no one.

You, to put it simply, cease to be you.

Want to know what I found out when I ceased to let my eating disorder control my life? I can be "me" again. Idiosyncrasies and all.

My dream for you is that you will find the real "you". I hope this blog will be an encouragement to you, but I also hope it will challenge you to move past those obstacles standing in your way and claim your freedom. There is such thing as recovered- you just have to believe it.

I've shared a little about myself, now how about you? What makes you "you"? I'd love to get to know you a little bit more!