11:40 a.m. - 06/29/02
stickshifts and safetybelts...
I swear I have a one-track mind today, but I suppose there are worse tracks it could be on, and I haven't talked specifically about recovery in so long. It can be such a beautiful thing to share with people; I miss the celebrations and the introspection that are so varied in a group.
I've been reading the Something Fishy recovery board like a girl posessed, and since I can't post there (my e-mail is my enemy) I have all this energy flowing into me, and nowhere for it to leak out. I really need to call Sara, but I'll probably wait until this afternoon. I wish all the support groups here weren't so horrible (on Tammy's word). I don't need to go sit with a bunch of girls who won't quit talking about how the girl across from them is so much thinner than they'll ever be. That isn't a competition I can handle anymore, and I'm not all too interested in the shame.
One of the things that struck me reading through a certain thread was the idea that you set boundaries because no one will take care of you if you don't take care of yourself. This was consistently reiterated, and I had to stop a moment and listen to the roaring in my head to realize- I don't agree with it. Of course people will take care of you if you don't take care of yourself. If you've aged beyond the realm of independence, your relatives will take care of you. A nursing home will take care of you. If you fall and break yourself, people will nurse you back to health, people will call and hurry you back to wellness. I'm not sure if I always knew this, if I always believed that people would be there to take care of me, but I do know that when I stopped doing what others saw as taking care of myself (and started doing so in my own desperate way) people stepped in. they tried to take care of me, and ultimately, that's what people will do. they'll take away all your control and *they'll try.*
which can be a really horrible thing. I mean, honestly, my parents having power over my decisions? who made THAT law? the truth is that if you don't take care of yourself, you run the risk of having someone 'relieve' you of the task. one of the reasons getting better was so scary was because it meant giving up the 'control' of my eating disorder. if I didn't have that I wouldn't be handling my life, and if I weren't handling my life, all these parents and therapists and dieticians would be, and they would never understand that I was different, that my eating disorder *did* take care of me, and I didn't care if it wasn't their way of handling things - I needed it. but you know? the eating disorder was just another badly-educated adult trying to convince me it knew better than I did, when honestly, a lot of us probably do handle our lives better than our parents would. so sending it away was kind of like rebelling against my parents- it made sure that my life was my own.
the problem is that disorders and people aren't usually very quick to go. when I told them I was fine taking care of myself through Ed, even those who understood weren't about to stand for it. I think you take care of yourself because *truly* taking care of yourself allows you to express your needs and to educate others on what will most serve you. It allows you to say to your Mom, "what you just said was fucking inconsiderate as hell" and to your friends "this is a really difficult topic for me." it allows you to say to your sister, "I don't *need* you to tell me what to do; I need you to listen to what I'm feeling and trust me to get through it in my time"...it allows other people to trust you so that they can follow your advice about what you need.
In my ED, I was doing everything to take care of myself, but no one would leave me alone to do it. Now that I'm getting out, I can fall apart emotionally, and people will listen to my explanation of what I need. that's a really wonderful gift.
I also think the idea "if I don't take care of me, no one else will" is kind of upsetting. If I say that to myself, I'm probably going to end up feeling alone and worthless and incapable of making the decision that is truly best for me. I'm more likely to act impulsively, out of anger or shame. Someone else *will* take care of me, and of you, if we don't do so, because we are that important to the world. but no one can ever know us as well as we know ourselves (once all the shame starts to drain away), so I'd rather take care of myself and let others help me in the ways that I ask them to. I used to think that it was better to be sick and have people nursing me than to be doing well and have people happy with me. I don't know how long I'd been at Rogers when I told them that I didn't care what was healthy, negative attention felt better! and I certainly wasn't going to give that up for the shitty positive kind.
I realized after a long, long time and lots of scary steps toward trusting, that the "postive attention" I knew was meager at best. I hadn't experienced positive attention! everything affirming I'd ever heard had been conditional on my actions; I needed people who cared about me for me. I needed people to say, "no matter what you do or say or feel, you are the Mary we love." I experienced that at Rogers, and although I still pull for negative attention sometimes when I'm feeling really alone and shamed, it's disappointing now. because I know how beautiful the real kind of caring is.
which leads my mind back to something Dr. R and I were talking about: unhealthy, enmeshed relationships versus healthy ones with boundaries. I told him how (similarly to the two types of attention issue) I occasionally tell people, "I want an unhealthy, codependent relationship!" because it just FEELS so good sometimes to be that close to someone, and oddly enough he agreed with me. I told him that nothing else feels that good and he agreed. and before I could realize how odd that is, he started talking in metaphor. (I swear he only sees me to play word games.) :)
he said, "have you ever seen a little child eat cake?" and, trying instantly to decipher the significance, I replied, "erm...probably...?" he explained that when a little kid eats cake they eat the icing first, which leaves them completely disenchanted with the fluffy stuff below. I nodded. "as opposed to adults," I smiled, "who scrape off the icing...now that's just WRONG."
he laughed a little, "you're right," he said, "it is." he went on to say that there had to be some sort of middle ground between eating only icing/getting sick (because let's face it, after awhile those enmeshed relationships, even with really good people, tend to be less than ideal) and never getting the sweet stuff. I thought about it. it didn't seem fair (and I said as much) that the kind of relationship that *felt* the best was the unhealthy kind. but at the same time, enmeshed relationships don't feel very safe, and since I have a newfound joy regarding safety, I wondered aloud if that balanced things. mostly I was trying to sound positive.
finally, as my head started to spin, I turned to him and said, "so...are you trying to tell me I can have my cake and eat it, too?"
he smiled. "I never understood that one," he said.
"me either," I said back, then instantly started to decode it. "maybe it means that you can eat it and still have it because normally if you eat the cake it's gone."
"ah," he said, "but that would mean there wasn't always another piece of cake."
"ok!" I said. "too many exchanges! we need a new metaphor." I do have an eating disorder, remember? but I stayed with him long enough to get the point. only icing will leave you sick; only cake will leave you sad. but it seems to me that, like in the negative/positive attention case, the healthiest combination would also FEEL the best. doesn't a natural high feel better than a drugged one? I think I need to ask him about this.
in the meantime, we can stick to pudding.
chord
"I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship." -Louisa May Alcott
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