I've been thinking a lot recently about the 'whys' of anorexia - I've become involved in consulting on a new trial of an intervention for eating disorders (which I received myself as an inpatient nearly two years ago) and this has meant that my professional and personal worlds have blurred (even more than the boundary battlefields of living with a boyfriend who researches the same area and at the same University!). I have also been thinking a great deal about shame, fear, and the need for acceptance (I'm reading Brene Brown - who has some wonderfully insightful things to say). My experience (both personally and in my interactions with others who have struggled with anorexia) is that the fear of losing control/letting go/being vulnerable is not limited to negative experiences. There's a fear of positive emotions too. A general fear of being 'seen' whether in association with the good or the bad. When I passed my PhD exam, people got me flowers, there was a champagne moment, cards, compliments, lovely things... The whole lot terrified me; I didn't feel worthy; I knew my thesis was not that good, I knew every flaw, every bit of mess and imperfection in my PhD and I was terrified that accepting these lovely gestures, enjoying these moments set me up for the shame of someone else seeing them too and taking it all back or belittling me. But without these kinds of positive experiences, and more importantly without living them, being in them, accepting them - hell enjoying them, how can one possibly foster better self-esteem, challenge shame, develop resilience to the battering that anorexia can deliver?
This weekend turned out to be somewhat challenging - something stupid unexpectedly set off that evil anorexic self-hatred. I stuck by my food regimes and so on, I didn't give in in that sense. But on my beloved weekly coastal trip I sat crying behind my sunglasses while my boyfriend swam in the sea, I could not allow myself to enjoy it, to let go - I wanted to, I knew I should, I knew I could... What stopped me? Anorexia. Nothing about the cognitive effects of starvation etc can account for this - my body is not starved any more. With all mental health problems, if you have ever been trapped in the depths of despair that they can bring, there will always be a fear of that coming back - and that instills a fight mentality, to ward off the terrible warning symptoms that could spiral into a repeat of previous personal hells. But what of the positives? Of letting go, living life and actually actively pursuing fun? Seeking the good stuff, acting as if you deserve it? Not just the food, but the happiness part? Surely without that recovery is unattainable...
A few years ago I was deeply deeply depressed. My route out was ultimately not via sitting of NHS waiting lists (quelle surprise!) but by behaving as though I believed in happiness even though I didn't - buying myself flowers, going to the coast (hence the now weekly routine), lighting candles, taking the time for a warm bath or a good book. It was bloody hard work - especially at the beginning, and it's no replacement for the psychotherapy that eventually followed, but it took me away from a place of hopeless suicidality. Perhaps it will also be the key to finally kicking anorexia's butt once and for all... After all if you're never seen by others, you trap yourself in isolation and disconnection. If you never allow yourself pleasure, you deprive yourself of the incentives to fight for life, and in doing so fuel anorexia's flames.
In that spirit I have planted (or rather my very tolerant boyfriend did!) myself some beautiful roses - hopefully my happiness (and their health - which I'm already worrying about!) will blossom over the coming months...
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