Recoveredbulimic’s Weblog

I have written several posts about present experience and how in the past it might have (most definitely, in fact!) led to a binge. Through them I have tried and will continue to try to illustrate how things can be done differently. How we can take trigger situations and render them harmless. These posts are filed under binge avoidance and coping. I talk about coming back down to earth after emotionally trying events or situations, which used to be a real trigger for me in the old days. Then there is the question of fear and stress as triggers, which I describe in Why binge? Mention of humor or simply taking it easy as effective aides is to be found in Comic relief or a nap.

The fact that we all are different, find different things helpful and the need for a variety of approaches is emphasized in recovery and food. Then not taking ourselves too seriously deals with the importance of surrender and letting ourselves feel the feelings. Finally, there is Monday morning craziness, tiredness, getting back into the swing of things which I cover in Just tired, not bingeing.

Today I happened to find a wonderful “how to” list that I’d like to share with you. It is written with a lot of compassion and understanding. Rather than story-telling, it gives a framework of how to cope. It has a delightfully long title, which is right up my alley. I think I liked it just because of the title, but also found it to be good reading! How to recognize triggers for a binge or purge episode and how to recognize six levels of recovery (long title for a brief summary) by Joanna Poppink, Psychotherapist (see my blogroll).

Some people may find it more helpful to read little stories, others may find an outline more effective. Especially since each of us is unique and has her own trigger situations, a basic outline makes a lot of sense. Thus I want to share both with you. The bottom line is: Whatever works for you is what you need!

Why was I afraid/not willing to recover for such a long time? Okay, the anorexic didn’t want to get fat. Neither did the bulimic. But that wasn’t really what was at stake. There were some fears that people wouldn’t care about me anymore if I grew to be strong and healthy, but that wasn’t the main factor which prolonged the disease.

No, the big issue was that I was terrified of believing in myself and life, because I didn’t want to risk having the rug pulled out from under my feet yet again. I didn’t want to risk betrayal, or the feeling that I’d been fooled to believe in life — only to find out it was all a hoax.

My hope and promise had withered away, been eroded by the constant pattering of drops of fears rather than tears, beating away at my shell, reaching my inner being at the very core to wreck utter havoc. Those injuries were so deep that they to this day continue to rise to the surface, unveiling themselves one by one, requiring reconciliation and healing.

I’m avoiding specifics, as each of us has her cross to bear, her unique history and factors which brought her to where she is now, with whatever challenges and problems she has. It takes courage to face these difficulties, and to dare to recover and allow that vulnerability to resurface. True, it entails the risk of those hurts being repeated, but it also holds the key to the fulfilling destiny to which each of us is entitled. In the process of recovery, sometimes we just need to sit tight and wait for crazy feelings to pass. Sometimes we need to cry. Other times we need someone to hold our hand and repeat like a mantra: “It’s going to be okay. You are okay. I know you can do it.” Or maybe a hand isn’t enough, maybe we need some hugs as well.

For those of you in the process, I send comforting hugs and hands, and wish you the willingness to ask for these from those near you. Many people want to support you and encourage your recovery, but they don’t know how. Their well-meant advice falls on deaf ears, or we find a dozen reasons why it doesn’t pertain to us. But a non-verbal demonstration of support and affection can go a long way. I pray that you allow yourself these basic necessities, which we tend to consider luxuries.

Recovery enables us to live more fully, with more energy and enthusiasm about what we do. It allows us to give all we have, rather than let an eating disorder or other addiction zap us of strength. Besides this gift of life for ourselves, recovery also gives us the opportunity to be there for others. Whether they are bereft at losing a loved one, in pain because of a difficult past, struggling with a new job, desperately in love with the wrong person (or maybe it’s the right person, only that person doesn’t know it?), having difficulties with their children or marriage, or whatever else. There are plenty of trying situations in life. Whatever the situation, I am grateful that I can be there to offer comfort, suggestions, a hug, shared tears, or just listen.

Recovery allows us to feel. Whether I was using food, alcohol or drugs, none of them totally managed to numb out the feelings, but they did succeed in making them foggy und unclear. Today, regardless of what those feelings are, whether they are about me or someone else, I can really feel them: joy, sadness, grief, excitement, anticipation, frustration, confusion, anger, etc. I have sympathy, empathy, compassion and love for those in my life, and for those I’ve only heard about.

Through trudging that long path of recovery, I was given the gift of life. I was given a second chance. They say recovery is about being selfish, about learning to put the focus on your self. The remarkable thing is, once this happened, I was much better able to focus on others as well. When I was younger, I was ashamed and didn’t want to appear conceited or overly confident. Unfortunately, I only saw the extremes: total self-involvement vs. total altruism. Today I have attained that happy medium, which includes caring for self and others. Like that old saying goes: You can’t love others until you love yourself!