10 Ways My Life Has Changed Since Recovery
Do you ever have those moments where you are going about your normal life, driving to work, walking your dog, maybe unloading the dishwasher, and youre just overwlemed by this thought of “wow, this is my life” or, “how did I get here?” I had one of those the other day. And It was kind of beautiful, being able to notice just how amazing the seemiingly little things are in my life. Especially today, in a place so much mentally and physically healthier than I’ve been ever in my adult life. Things I once thought weren’t in the cards for me have become built into my routine. From enjoying a latte on a lazy sunday morning, to going on a spontaneous camping trip, to the fact I have a pole in my living room. Just 5 years ago, this was not my reality. Anorexia is like that. You lose a lot more than body weight. You lose freedom, opportunity, connection, and most severely, time. I wanted to write this post to celebrate some of those seemingly little things I’ve gained in this new chapter of my life, and to reflect on how much is possible when you make the choice to fight your demons and embrace the unknown. As the cliche goes, recovery is worth it.
I can sleep.
I used to lie in bed, wide awake, my heart pounding like a building alarm in my chest for hours, not falling asleep until the sun was beginning to rise. For MONTHS on end. I still don’t take it for granted how for the past few years, it doesn't take me more than a few minutes to drift off after I lay my head on my pillow. I used to think an insomniac was just as much my identity as an anorexic. The reality is, I’ve had sleeping difficulties because of my anorexia.
I was so undernourished and nutrient deficient, it was like my body was afraid to sleep- my primal brain, the part that thought I was not eating because there was a famine— wanted me to get up and go hunt and forage for food, to get out of this crisis state of starvation.
Of course, my anorexic brain did not let me in on that conversation. It just told me I hadn't made myself tired enough during the day. So I would exercise longer and harder the next day. Which of course only made me more undernourished ,spiked my cortisol, and made this cycle even worse.
2. I can party.
While I did attend parties, and partake in the normal college activities like dancing and night clubs and drinking games, it was never with the same inhibition, spontaneity, or endurance as any of my friends.
First of all, it took planning. If I knew we were going out on a Friday night, you can bet the week leading up to it I was restricting as many calories as I could, and running every evening in preparation for the calories in alcohol I would be consuming and the night of not being able to go for my usual evening run. And even with all that preparation, the night of, my mind was still in a knot over if I accidentally was drinking a rum and coke instead of diet coke going over how many calories I was consuming in a shot of gin versus vodka, and calculating and recalculating if I had ran and restricted enough that day to justify the few sips of cooler I had allowed myself when a friend gave me one.
And while everyone else around me could have drink upon drink, I was deemed the one drink wonder— one drink and I was tipsy, three and I was done for the night. It was fun (and cheap) being this much of a lightweight sometimes, but not when you're having a glass of wine at 5 PM at your boyfriend’s mother’s birthday dinner.
Now, I am by no means a heavyweight, but most days it takes me a couple drinks to feel that way, ad I am usually the life of the party right into the wee hours— with or without alcohol. And I can join in the late night snacks and enjoy it.
3. I can pole dance
Now solidly in recovery, I do all kinds of movement, and I am able to feel true joy as I do it. And when I am not, I am able to make the conscious choice to stop. From long walks, and short runs, to Barry’s workouts to yoga or barre classes, the type of movement I have fallen most in love with is pole.
I suppose you could argue I could have pole danced even while I was in my eating disorder, albeit not with the same energy or endurance. And while that might be true, pole dance is one of the few athletic disciplines where there is a minimum softness or fleshiness required in order to execute many of the moves. For instance, a layback or superman, where you are literally gripping the pole between your thighs.
A thigh gap, or even a lack of fat here, would make this rather impossible. Any kind of floor or base work involves a lot of contact with all parts of your body on the hard floor, and even at a healthy weight, I emerge from these sessions with bruises all along my shoulders, knees, and other bony areas.
As someone who couldn't so much as do an ab crunch without a thick rolling mat when I was underweight, I don't think I would have even been able to partake in a choreography class without donning full body protective padding.
4. I have more friends
When I was living with an eating disorder, my biggest priorities were my food and my body. If I was ever in the mood to see a friend, even for a brief coffee date, I had to work it in around my several exercise sessions a day, rigid “meal” times, and strong aversion to sitting. Not to mention compensate for the ingestion of any calories that outing may occur.
Needless to say, I didn’t make many lasting friendships in that almost ten year period of my life with ED, and I lost quite a few too. It was really only in my mid twenties that I found a renewed interest and ease in social connections, and sometimes I blink and look around at the people that surround me that are so important and integral to my life that I didn't even know 5 years ago. If I had to narrow it down to one reason that recovery is worth it, this would be it. Social connection.
5. I can treat myself
Everytime I buy myself something as small as a latte or a pole class, I smile a little inside. Coming from a restrictive eating disorder, I’ve struggled with an intense scarcity mindset just as intensely. Even essential necessities, like food, toilet paper, and gas, riddled me with guilt and anxiety when I had to buy them. I did some ridiculous things to save a few cents, like turning my car off at red lights, parking a few kilometres away from a destination to save gas, and literally running across the city to three different stores to save 60 cents on a head of broccoli.
While the scarcity mindset still remains something I am continuing to rewire, I have carved enough freedom to provide for myself these necessities, as well as indulge in the occasional 6 dollar latte.
Perhaps my most “indulgent” and rewarding purchase of all being my beloved fur baby Rajah, and his recurring food, toy, and vet bills.
Coming from a place where I couldn’t even comfortably pay to feed myself, I am now providing for another being. I may be dipping more into my bank account than I would like but he is 100 percent worth it, and brings me so much happiness everyday.
6. I can watch an entire show (or series!)
This is the thing that actually inspired me to write this post. I began rewatching an old favourite TV show of mine on CBC called Heartland (if youre a horse girl, you know!) It's going into its 17th season and its actually a show I began watching prior to falling into my eating disorder. For the first couple seasons, an episode would come on and I would drop everything. When I became sick, I still enjoyed heartland, but I found it harder and harder to make it through even one episode.
I would get anxiety, sitting on the couch, my brain beginning to fixate on how much I had moved or not moved that day, and how many calories I had eaten or potentially could still eat.
I would zone out from the show and by the time my eyes refocused on the screen, I would have no idea what had happened. Which only made it easier to lose focus and get lost in my ED thoughts again.
Eventually, I stopped followung the series as religiously, thinking it had lost its appeal. Well, now rewatching these seasons lost on me during y eating disorder I am realizing it was never the show. It was me. My brain to be exact. I sit down to watch one episode and three episodes later I am shocked at the time and peel myself away to go to bed. I could feel guilty or lazy, being sucked in so thoroughly, but I’m too consumed enjoying it. It’s wonderful, magical, being able to pay attention with such rapture to something that doesn’t have to do with food or exercise.
7. I can finish a novel
This is a lot like what I just described about being able to watch a TV show. I went from being a voracious reader, to not being able to finish any book I picked up for years.
I used to get lost in the pages, sneaking away at any hour off the day I could to fall into the world I was reading. With my eating disorder I found mysef re reading the same sentence 20 times only to be spiralling with thoughts about how unproductive this activity was when I could be doing something “active.”
I am happy to say that I now am back to reading everyday, always before bed and sometimes, even sneaking in a few minutes during the day as a little mental reset. I cannot say the thoughts of being unproduyctive are totally gone in these little reading breaks, but when the book is good enough, they do quickly fall away. This year I made a goal to read thirty books for thirty, and I am already on my 5th, just over a month in. Doing pretty well I’d say.
8. I can sit on the subway
Full confession: I do typically like to stand on the subway. “Surfing” I like to call it. But there is a big difference between doing something because you like it and doing something because you have to. One is a preference, the other, a compulsion. Standing and pacing on the subway used to be a big compulsion for me. It was bad enough that I couldn’t get away with walking or running somewhere (because if it was under 10 km, its walking distance, right?) and pure torture to be completely sedentary in that time instead.
So ED-controlled-me would walk as far as time would allow me to a subway stop, where I compromised with my ED brain by standing and walking in and on the train as much as I could until reaching my destination. I would walk from one end of the train to the other, attempting to do it as nonchalantly and inconspicuously as I could, but on a busy train, shuffling past commuters, or on a short trip with only a few stops to do so, I definitely got some looks.
Today, if I have to go for a distance long enough for me to whip out a book to read or some knitting to work on, I will sit my ass down. Time passes quicker, and if I am in the mood to walk, its much nicer to do so outside of the confines of a TTC car.
9. I can honour my hunger and my cravings
What I eat, and what enjoy to eat has drastically widened from my handful of safe foods I had during anorexia. For starters, I went from being hardcore health-obsesses, carb-averse vegan, to vegetarian with a love of bread, corn, coconut ice cream, and salty snacks. While I still typically enjoy big nourishing plant-based bowls and tend to eat lots of fruits and veggies, I also have meals and days where I am not feeling so much fibre. I can choose to eat a burrito or a bowl of pasta over a salad.
I can order a plate of fries or fried cauliflower bites or nachos and eat my share out with friends. I can sink into the couch with a bar of chocolate or bowl of ice cream. I can appreciate the flavours, the textures, and the moment, without being filled with anxiety or shame at the “unhealthy” choice I’ve made.
I am so much more flexible with my eating now and so much more in tune with my hunger and cravings. I’m not perfect, and I still have some way to go before becoming a truly intuitive eater, but I have made great strides in my relationship with food, and I am committed to the journey I am on to get there.
10. I can be spontaneous
Spontaneity has always been a huge value of mine-- for myself and for other people. One of the reasons I fell in love with my partner so quickly was because of his spontaneous nature, and how he draws it so effortlessly out of me. If I had met him a few years ago, I’m not sure I would have been able to go along with the last minute ideas and adventures he comes up with, even if I wanted to. LIving every minute of every day attempting to please the demands of the eating disorder in my head, there was no space for spontaneity.
Everything, from how many minutes a day I could sit down, to the time I had a coffee was planned. Today, I have jumped into a freezing ocean, booked and embarked on a camping trip on the same day, taken a road trip to the east coast as a third date, and have enjoyed countless spontaneous late night uber eats orders, happy hour drinks, and lazy mornings.
These may seem like small things that most people do without thinking about. But coming from a place where a lazy morning was something I could not fathom planning, even if I was ill in bed, being able to decide to spend a saturday curled on a couch and watching movies instead of going out for a run or to a yoga class is a beautiful thing. It's not something I would enjoy every day, because I love my movement moments, but what makes it so enjoyable is having the Freedom, the choice, to do so.