“Do Something About It”
Since leaving the hospital, my body has changed. Though I really only gained three pounds and what feels like a crap ton of water weight, in my eyes, my body looks dramatically different. My stomach is no longer flat, my wrists aren’t extremely bony, and I don’t have a thigh gap. It goes without saying that these recent changes in my appearance have caused me extreme depression and discomfort.
To the anorexic brain, body changes like these feel like the end of the world.
In my ‘trying to recover brain’ body changes also feel like the end of the world.
To be completely honest, I’m a complainer. Sometimes I get annoyed by how much I complain. It comes as no surprise to me or anyone around me that as my body is changing, I am complaining more and more about it. Often the words: “I hate my body,” “I’m so fat,” or “when do you think they’ll call me to be on My 600 Pound Life,” come out of my mouth.
To a normal person, these words seem like desperate cries for attention. However, though they may be cries for attention, they’re not words fishing for a compliment, they’re words fishing for compassion.
In my opinion, fishing for compliments or validation comes from the mouth of someone who already knows truth. I do not know truth; anorexia and body dysmorphia do not know truth. I genuinely look at my body and all I see is fat. I predict an extreme weight in my mind that feels right before I step on the scale to ease the blow of being over 100 pounds. I genuinely hate my body.
I say these things, specifically to my parents, not to get on their nerves or force them to tell me I’m skinny but to receive compassion from them. I’m trying to say: I feel horrible in my own skin and this whole recovery thing is hard. I need my loved ones/anyone on the receiving end of these thoughts to understand that mentally, I AM UNWELL. I am fighting giant, nasty, deceiving demons, not begging you to tell me I’m pretty.
All of these thoughts recently came into play when a potential love interest (I use the “L” word lightly in this context) asked me how I was doing. Fortunately or unfortunately, I’m an open book. When someone truly takes the time to ask how I am, I truly take the time to tell them how I am. So, I told this guy that I was really depressed and in a deep spiral of hating myself and by body. His ill informed self replied, and I quote: “Well you shouldn’t hate your body…this might sound a little bitchy, but probably not, but if you hate it, do something about it… workout with me, get strong…”
Okay bud, first let’s start with: THAT WAS BITCHY. I just got out of the mother-freaking hospital after being malnourished so yeah, telling me to “do something about it” was bitchy. I did something about it: I signed my soul to the devil and allowed people that I didn’t know to force my weight to go up and my stomach to go out.
Second: I’m strong. I’m so freaking strong. I don’t need to workout to get strong. The mere fact that I haven’t allowed my disorder to end my life is greater strength than picking up heavy shit will ever give me.
Lastly, second to last, I’m not sure yet: don’t tell me or anyone else to “do something about [their body] it.” This vessel you’re telling me to change is keeping me alive. It is carrying blood to my heart, oxygen to my brain, and nourishment to my organs. My disorder takes up enough room in my brain yelling at me to do better, eat less, be skinnier, “DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT”, that I do not need to hear that from outside sources and neither does anyone else.
My body is strong because it is resilient. I have put my body in the position to die more than once but this bad ass bag of organs won’t give in. My body is doing everything it needs to and more, my face is pretty cute and not everyone can say that. LOL sorry, I have to hype myself up sometimes.
But anyways, we should be showing each other compassion. Challenging one another to better ourselves mentally, spiritually, literally anyway but aesthetically. Now, if I was training for a marathon, yes I would want to be pushed physically. But the only marathon I’m training for is the next (hopefully) 80 years alive and that time is going to require nourishment, a tummy that’s not so flat, and hydration. So before I get off of my soapbox: if you’re going to encourage me to “do something” concerning my body, encourage me to love it. Encourage me to feed my body and hydrate my body. Challenge me to look past my appearance and focus on allowing my body to thrive and carry out it’s responsibilities with ease.
Hell, I need to challenge myself in these ways.
Moral of my rant: bodies change, people change, you don’t know how different “advice” will land in the context of others lives’. So let’s work to be compassionate and encourage people to better their quality of life rather than better their appearance or lower the number that represents their gravitational pull on the Earth.
*drops microphone*
