Do I have a just relationship with my own body? Until a week ago, I never thought to ask myself this question. But thanks to an insightful podcast I recently listened to, it's now at the forefront of my mind. The podcast featured an interview with Sonya Renee Taylor, activist, and author of "The Body Is Not an Apology," who feels that body acceptance (which she calls "radical self-love") is an essential, intersectional component of social justice. She poses the idea that how someone views or treats their body is an internal reflection of their external convictions about equity, inclusion, and justice in the world. I think this concept is fascinating, so I can't help but wonder: Do I have a just relationship with my own body? To be transparent, I seriously doubt it.
Coping Skills for Eating Disorder Recovery
I am not the type who writes a meticulous, in-depth list of resolutions each year. But with the start of 2023 just around the corner, I have been reflecting on which aspects of my life should come with me into the future and which ought to be left behind in the past. Which behaviors, mindsets, attributes, or relationships have I outgrown? Which characteristics align with my core values, and which no longer serve the person I want to become?
I was raised in a family that took holiday celebrations to a stratospheric level. We started listening to seasonal music in August. We had Christmas trees in almost every room of our house. We hosted multiple events—from Secret Santa exchanges with my parents' friends to cookie decorating parties with my aunts and cousins to the traditional feast with all of our exuberant Italian relatives. In this whirlwind of festivities, my mom turned entertaining into an art form, and her energy was infectious. But now that I am an adult, celebrating the holiday season on my own terms feels essential in order to prioritize my eating disorder recovery.
Anxiety can negate your appetite. Anxiety and eating disorders often co-occur—that's hardly a shock to those who live with the harsh realities and ramifications of both illnesses. As the National Institute of Mental Health reveals, 65.1 percent of those with binge eating disorder, 47.9 percent with anorexia, and 80.6 percent with bulimia meet the diagnostic criteria for anxiety.
I constantly move—so much so that I feel anxious if I have been sitting for more than about 20 minutes at a time. In fact, even as I type this sentence, I am doing calf raises while standing in front of my computer. On most days, I run or walk an average of 20,000 steps, and if I fall below that threshold, I frenetically pace around the living room while I watch TV at night. I happen to be someone with a lot of natural energy, but I often wonder: Am I just active, or is it my exercise addiction? Moreover, how can I strike a healthy balance in this area?
I prefer the version of me without an eating disorder—honestly, I do. Just a few short years ago, I never thought I would be able to utter those words from a sincere, authentic place. But so much about a human can change and transform in recovery. I used to fear that I would not recognize myself in a healed state, that I would lose my sense of personhood in the absence of those compulsions and behaviors I identified with so strongly. This fear still creeps in sometimes, but now I can spot the distortion beneath it. These days, when I look in the mirror, it's deeper than recognition. I see the real me, not the masked, hollow pretense I once believed was me. It feels exposed and vulnerable, but it also feels right.
As someone who has been a professional writer for almost 10 years (and a writing enthusiast for my whole life), I am a firm believer in journaling. Granted, I have not maintained a consistent journaling rhythm in the season where I find myself now. But when I commit to this self-care practice on a regular basis, I feel connected to my goals, priorities, and intentions for healing. Moreover, I am compelled to take meaningful, decisive actions that align with those priorities. So if you, like me, have fallen into a journaling rut over the past weeks or months, here are some journaling topics to refuel your motivation in eating disorder recovery.
As someone who started flirting with anorexic behaviors in early adolescence, I have cycled in and out of many toxic, compulsive traits over the years. But although I consider myself to be in a stable, consistent recovery mindset now, the competitive nature of my eating disorder still pulls me back into its orbit sometimes. In fact, I noticed this competitive streak reassert itself as recently as last night.
If you have experience with trauma-informed mental health care, it's quite possible that you're also familiar with eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) therapy. This therapy is an intervention used to help the brain resolve unprocessed traumatic memories, as well as the thoughts, emotions, beliefs, and physical reactions or sensations connected to those memories. But, is EMDR therapy useful for eating disorder treatment? That's a nuanced question without a one-size-fits-all answer. However, as someone who is currently in the thick of EMDR sessions myself, I want to examine its potential benefits for eating disorder recovery.
I will never forget one specific breakfast during my time in residential treatment. An on-staff clinician supervising the meal told me to throw out my pancakes and grab a new batch. When I asked her why, the answer was confusing, but as with most rules at this inpatient facility, it left no room for further questions. "You spread peanut butter on your pancakes—that's a food ritual," she replied.