The other day I allowed myself to be anonymously interviewed for an article about disordered eating and body image on college campuses. As I discussed my journey and getting back to "normal" (but really - what's normal?) I began to realize that most of my answers weren't true. They're what I want to be true. What I hope that by the time I'm past this, I can say are true.
My best friend went through the same interview. And I read her responses and I became so proud of her, and so envious of her at the same time. Not envious in a bad way, envious in that I so badly wish that I could be on the other side of this phase of my life in the same way that she is. I'm so proud of her and she keeps me believing that I will move past this and I will see a point in my life that my thoughts, feelings and behaviors aren't dictated by what I have or have not eaten during the day.
My relationship with food has become more of a pattern than anything else. Think of the 5-year-old that only likes to eat a handful of different types of foods. That's me. At age 21, I have the taste preferences of a kindergartner.
My best friend describes her recovery in a way unlike anyone else I've ever met or read about. Hers wasn't a long, daunting, frustrating process. Hers was like a light switch. One night she read an article in Glamour, decided she wasn't happy the way she was living, and the next day she woke up and made a change.
Every night when I go to sleep, I wish that I could wake up and that light switch would flip for me too. But that hasn't happened yet, and I can't keep waiting for it to, or nothing is going to change.
Maybe it's not going to be that fast for me. But last night I was thinking, "What if I do one thing every day that helps me work to get over this? What if I do one thing every day that scares me? That's good for me? That nourishes me? That keeps me going? What if today I make someone smile? What if today I let go? What if today I just am?"
This, being my first day on this mission - I decided to do two things.
What if today I stepped out of my comfort zone and bought foods that aren't on my short list of things I eat on a daily basis? I went to the store and I walked up and down each isle. I picked out new things. Things I haven't had in a year - maybe more. I bought food that doesn't come pre-packaged, with a label telling me exactly what it is. I bought real fruit. I bought soups filled with vegetables and spices. I bought whole grain pastas and rice. Sure, there's some yogurt and some cereal bars in there too. But I need to stop labeling things as "good" or "bad," as "safe" or "unsafe." Food is just food. And the sooner I can see that, the sooner I can get better.
And now, what if I remembered how to move? My parents signed me up for dance class when I was 2-years-old. I love to dance and I love to move. I used to know and trust every inch of my body, because so much of my time was devoted to exploring it and what it could do. Now, I think that one of my biggest fears about moving past this overly restrictive phase of my life is that I'll become a fat, soft blob (I know that sounds dramatic, but it's true). But what if today, I just let go? What if I channeled my inner-Shakira and remembered how to move in a way that makes me feel comfortable in my own body again? I may not have the hips and the butt that I used to have, but this is still my body. Working through struggle doesn't mean you have to sit still while you do it. Maybe I have to get to know my body again; to remember what it's capable of and everything that it can do. My body survived 15 years of dance classes. It survived tumbling classes and basketball games. It's made it through many a Zumba and kickboxing class, and it carries me everywhere I need to go every single day.
"There is a bit of insanity in dancing that does everybody a great deal of good."
Edwin Denby
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