Questions and My Answers

I have to admit I have been savoring the memories of the speech I gave a month ago for National Eating Disorders Awareness Week since I gave it.  The event was spectacular.  Better than I could have imagined or even hoped.  I felt comfortable in the spotlight, perhaps for the first time in my life.  It was natural and the best part was I was speaking from my heart.  Every thing I said was true and genuine.  I wish you all could have been there.  I wish even more that it was recorded, so that I could relive the experience without the fading capacity of my memory.

I want to focus my post not so much on the speech I prepared, but the questions I answered.  Several patients asked questions with the "Is it really possible?  Are you really recovered?" undertone.  While my story is unique in the fact that I truly am recovered, it is not impossible.  I tried to remind the patients, and their loved ones, that the road was hard, unbearably hard most of the time.  However, just because life is hard doesn't mean that there isn't a way to overcome.  One patient began her question saying, "I assume that you have to fight the urges to engage in eating disorder behavior every day, at every moment...."  I was confident when I said, "I wouldn't say I have urges.  More like thoughts that creep into my head.  Temptations.  But, I realize the cost of living in such fantasies."  It truly costs more to live in the eating disorder than it does to live life, no matter how pathetic it may seem.  This is key for anyone with an eating disorder to realize.

Another question came from a former patient regarding finding friends and the emotional pain that it takes.  This question reminded me of the introvert nature I have.  Especially after leaving treatment, social situations were a big trigger.  However, I knew that I needed friends.  Social support is key in recovery.  In response to her question I expressed a concept that I had learned from a former therapist: emotional intimacy.  Emotional Intimacy relies on three things: (1) honesty, (2) security, and (3) "the gift."  The first two are mostly self-explanatory.  However, "the gift" raised a few eyebrows when I mentioned it.  "The gift" refers to the genuine interest two people have in getting to know each other and wanting to be with the other; to disclose and divulge, to weep and to smile, to work and to play.  If even one of these criterion is not met, the person you are interested in becoming friends with is not worth your time.  Making friends can be a draining process, however it is important to know not to share yourself with just anybody.  Being selective in who you choose to be friends with is a secret that really shouldn't be kept from the world.  It is best for everyone's social, mental, and emotional health. 

There were many more questions, and it is a shame that I cannot remember them all.  The last one that I do remember was asked by a mother who was so brave.  Her question was perfect.  I was the only one on the panel who had experienced severe depression and therefore was the only one could relate and to and answer the question with honesty and earnestness.  After the presentation, she thanked me and I felt that she yearned for more: more interaction, more hope, and more assurance that her daughter could recover.  I will never be able to guarantee someone that their loved one will recover.  However, I do believe that I can offer a conditional guarantee:  If your loved one can visualize recovery, and you support him or her in his or her actions to achieve, then recovery is possible, if and only if you both are willing to fight like hell.

I am excited to work as a therapist once I graduate with my MSW (hopefully by 2015).  I once thought that I could never work with patients who have eating disorders.  However, I'm beginning to re-evaluate that thought.  When I entered the eating disorder unit in February, this time as an advocate instead of a patient, I had no remorse, no regrets, no urges, no jealousy.  I was not ashamed of my body.  I was not self-conscious.  I was proud.  I was empathetic.  I wanted to help.

Awareness for eating disorders is growing.  However, I recently wrote a policy analysis paper on eating disorder screenings in Virginia and was appalled to learn that eating disorders are still largely under-funded.  Here is what I wrote:

"One way to intervene and prevent the development of eating disorders for all genders, socioeconomic groups, age groups, and ethnicities in America is through research.  Research funding is scarce in relation to the number of Americans diagnosed with an eating disorder.  5.1 million Americans suffer from Alzheimer’s Disease.  This disease is allotted $450 million for research.  3.6 million Americans live with Autism.  $160 million go towards Autism research.  Nearly six times as many Americans suffer from an eating disorder as compared to Alzheimer’s Disease and almost ten times as many Americans suffer from an eating disorder as compared to Autism.  However, the amount of money allotted to eating disorder research is a mere $28 million.  In more practical terms, an average of $88 is given per Alzheimer’s patient for research.  For an individual with an eating disorder, he or she will receive $0.93 for research (NIH, 2013)."

Astounding.  I do no discredit the need for research for Autism or Alzheimer's, but I can't help but feel a little dismal when I hear that eating disorders are not given the same amount of attention, funding, or impact.  

Maybe I've found my niche.  Maybe I've found what I'm passionate about...

What Will You Lose?

I always have a problem with the slew of weight-loss and exercise advertisements slung at us in January.  This year, I've let the "Special-K" commercials stew in my mind a little too long.  So, I hereby dedicate this blog post to body awareness and appreciation.

The "Special-K" ads glorify and glamorize dieting and body-envy.  At first glance, the advertising techniques employed trick you into thinking that losing weight will free you from your problems, stress, etc.  But then you have to step back and think, "what is wrong with my life?"  But, as the famous children's book goes, "If you give a mouse a cookie..." or in this case, "If you give a woman a TV ad on weight loss, she's going to question her body and then she'll envy the 'feel-good' messages of 'a few pounds here' and 'a tummy tuck there.'"  Not to mention that all the women who step on the scale in these commercials are beautiful, average sized, if not less-than average-sized, women.  What is wrong with this picture?!  Their slogan, "What will you gain?" is a slap in the face to women.  Why is feeling good about yourself and appreciating who you are, tied to your weight?  That is not what life is about.

The last week of February into the beginning of March each year is National Eating Disorders Awareness Week.  It's no secret at this point that I struggled with anorexia, but this year I'm taking my awareness to a whole new level.  I will be speaking at Reflections, a comprehensive eating disorders treatment facility in Falls Church, VA, to provide inspiration to patients and family members as they embark on the journey of recovery.  As I have been thinking about what I could possible say to sum up my 10-year struggles and my change from resisting treatment to thirsting for life, I had somewhat of an epiphany.  I realized that when I began to understand I had far more to gain from living than from dying, my thought processes and attitude began to transform from that of a sick, dying, starved patient, into that of a survivor.

So, I want to ask you, first what you will lose from associating your self-worth with your weight or appearance?  Then, what will you gain from living?

There is so much more to life than focusing on a goal weight or size that you know will never actually get you what you need.  I promise that as you focus on what you're missing in life, it won't be attached to a number.  

Notes from the Stage

As many of you know I just finished 6 dance performances for the Christmas season.  For a short moment I thought there was no way I was going to be able to do it.  I had to finish 60 hours at my internship, write 4 final papers, and take a final.  Don't mention my responsibilities at home, church, work, and dance.  In a moment of emotional desperation I sat next to my mother and bawled my eyes out.  As a recovering perfectionist, I can't do everything just "as good at its going to get" but rather I need it to be "the best."  My mom suggested I stop dance.  Driving an hour to teach, rehearse, and perform and then an hour back home 3-4 days a week is rough to say the very least. However, beginning with that pinnacle moment by my mom's side, everything came together.  

I learned early on in my life that there a handful of things that can truly make me smile: children, dance, and the gospel of Jesus Christ.  During the three weeks that felt as though I would never see daylight again, I continued to teach ballet to 15 tiny dancers.  I distinctly remember driving an hour to get to the studio, ready to walk in and tell my boss that I needed to go home and take a "mental health day."  Once I walked in, I couldn't help but feel the genuine and sincere love from my students.  They were excited to see me and I was bombarded with hugs and updates on the week--everything from Santa's impending arrival to love interests to a recent birthday party.  Their smiles were contagious.  Their energy lit up the otherwise dark night sky that creeped in through the windows.

My first 4 performances of the season were for a local Christmas worship service and began later that week.  The "Imagine Christmas" production is put on every year in Bristow, Virginia and includes an orchestra, a children's choir, an adult choir, sermons, and dancers.  I had two rehearsals to learn and perfect my piece.  The choreographer told me the movements were to tell the story of Mary's response to seeing the Angel Gabriel.  Once I understood that, the dance took a deeper meaning and dedication.  However, every time I had practiced the dance on the stage I had forgotten a different piece of the choreography.  Before each of the four performances, I fervently prayed that I could dance from my heart, that even if I forgot a step, I could continue to worship through the movements and music.  During my 2nd performance, my mind blanked.  But as soon as I finished the last step that I could remember, the steps that followed flooded into my mind and I continued to perform what felt like a flawless performance.  I have no doubt my Heavenly Father answered my innocent prayers that day.  

My last 2 performances were for my studio's production of "The Nutcracker."  Last year I spent every free moment, and every not-so-free-moment rehearsing for the Grand Pas de Deux.  This year, as somewhat as a blessing in disguise, my boss could not find a male dancer to partner me for the pas de deux and I had more time to focus on my hectic school and church schedule.  When the performances began last weekend, I had just finished my school semester, allowing me to enjoy the thrill of dancing without any looming deadlines.  I was able to dance alongside my students and they loved calling me THE Sugar Plum Fairy.  They doted on me and I felt appreciated and loved.  Right before the curtain went up for the first performance, I felt an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude--both from my Heavenly Father and for the many hours that the parents, teachers, and students selflessly put into this production.  I couldn't stop smiling as the curtains opened--and luckily never stopped.  

Parents never stopped thanking me for my talents.  I was told I was in a different caliber of dancing and they were so grateful for all I do for their children.  Being able to feel so much appreciation and love is foreign to me in the dance world.  Coming back to a nurturing and positive environment is such a blessing.

The morning after my last performance, my mother told me how much she loves to watch me dance and what a huge blessing it is for me to teach and dance in such a positive environment.  She told me that it would be wonderful if I could find a way to make it work next year.  I admitted I had already committed in my mind to always make it work.  Part of it is self-care--the joy and release it is to dance.  Part of it is the reward--the ability to see my dancers feel a sense of pride over their hard work, as well as the accomplishment it is for me. 

This week I have felt an added measure of the Spirit in preparation for Christmas.  I know Christ was born to Mary some 2000 years ago.  I know He lives.  He continues to bless us.  I know He loves us and I am eternally indebted to Him.  I wish you all a Blessed and Merry Christmas.

As I close my last post for the year, I want to publicly express my appreciation for Mark.  He is my rock.  He has seen me at my worst and my best and still loves me all the same.  He makes me feel like royalty.  Thank you.  I love you.

Recognizing Blessings

I couldn't help but express my pent up gratitude this week.  Pent up because I hadn't genuinely vocalized it for weeks.  

First, I expressed it to my Maker during the drive to work in Warrenton.  Prayer relieves the weary soul!  Aren't we all prone to weariness at some point, maybe even more frequently than we would like?  I vocalized my prayer of gratitude for my health, my peers, my education, my co-workers, my concerned parents, my calling in my local Church, the sisters I serve in that calling, my loving and devoted boyfriend, and my safety.  Recognizing the multitude of blessings I have received and am receiving helps me to realize that I am never alone.  Not ever.

Second, I was brought to tears last night, thinking of the friends I have lost, both literally and figuratively, to the eating disorder and depression I suffered with for so long.  So often I think to myself, that was supposed to be me.  But somehow, in someway, I was blessed to be able to rise above it.  

On a slight tangent, I was sitting on campus Thursday afternoon eating a snack.  Not what I "should" have been eating, as one woman was quick to point out.  Rather, I was enjoying chips.  Cheddar and sour cream Ruffles chips to be exact.  Never in my life did I picture myself doing such a thing.  Eating them, for one, but also enjoying them.  On top of that, to be a dancer again and to be okay with eating what I crave and eating what best suits my strenuous physical and emotional schedule.  I ate a donut in front of my little dancers on Monday, when one of them brought donuts for the entire class to celebrate her birthday.  And I was proud.  Proud to show them that I can eat what I want, in moderation, and with control, but also with enjoyment.  

Blessings are poured out to each of us.  Do we have the eyes to recognize them?  With recognizing those blessings comes our increased ability to see the hand of God.  We may not be able to see His literal hand, but pretty darn close to it.  He is in our lives.  He doesn't throw out blessings to the masses, but knows each of us personally and specifically, showing us mercy and love.

With Thanksgiving upon us, it is custom to express gratitude for all that we have.  But if we wait until that one season to express thanks and recognize our blessings, we are bound to lose sight of the many blessings we have been given throughout the hours and minutes of every day.  Unseen miracles occur everyday.  If we take a moment to first recognize them and second remember them, we will be happier and at greater peace.  Try it.  I promise it works.  :)

Momentary Despair

As an LDS student at George Mason University, I woke up early this morning to attend Institute on campus.  It's always hard to leave the comfort of my bed.  Always.  It could be Christmas morning and I would gladly sleep in late.  However, I am especially grateful that I made it to Institute this gloomy Wednesday morning.  

The course material this semester comes from the Doctrine and Covenants and today's topic of discussion was on the lost 116 pages.  Joseph Smith had been translating the Gold Plates with Martin Harris acting as his scribe.  Martin desperately wanted to share the work with his resistant wife and family members, to help them believe in the marvelous work and wonder that was coming forth at the hands of Joseph Smith.  Joseph prayed to ask permission for Martin to show the first 116 pages of the manuscript to his family.  The answer was "no."  Joseph prayed a second time.  The answer was "no."  Finally, Joseph prayed a third time and the answer was "yes," though there were some conditions.  Martin could show the manuscript to only certain people.  Martin disobeyed this counsel the manuscript was lost.  Distraught by this tragedy, Joseph Smith lost the ability and privilege to translate for some time.

The question was raised in the class, "Have you ever strayed or been tempted to stray from what you knew was right?  What were the consequences and how did you resolve to stay on the strait and narrow?"  My answer to this question is where the topic of this post comes from...

The culminating moment that led to my decision to leave BYU began around Halloween of my junior year, 2010.  I lived in Provo with my sister and was transferred to a hospital in Salt Lake.  I was told that my sister could not come visit me as often as I wished, as the drive to Salt Lake after school took too much time away from her studies as a senior at BYU.  Not to mention the early snowfall and dangers of driving at night.  I felt so alone.  In my mind, I could justify indulging in depressive thinking, leading to living less than my potential had in store for me.  Shortly after I was discharged from the hospital, I withdrew from BYU.  The temptations to resist the help of the Lord and my loving family members were strong.  But as I think about this experience, I look back and see the only thing that kept me worthy of the life I have now: faith.  I had been raised in a loving home of goodly parents.  I knew from a young age that I wanted to return to my Father in Heaven.  Every time I played with Barbie and Ken dolls, they ended up getting married in the temple, for I knew from age 3 that the only way to begin to have supreme, everlasting happiness was to be married in the temple.  

I look back and see that I knew then (and still know now), even among the trials I was experiencing, that I could not and would not sacrifice eternal happiness, even in times of momentary despair.  

I read D&C 3:8 with these inclusions:

"Yet you WERE faithful; and he DID extend his arm and supported you against all the fiery darts of the adversary; and he WAS and IS with you in every time of trouble."

I know without a doubt that my life was spared and even blessed because I withstood those times of temptation to stray from what I knew was right.  And I promise to you that He will bless you too if you sacrifice momentary despair for everlasting peace.  I promise.