The meaning of loving myself

In order to move on from disordered eating, you first need to learn to love and accept yourself exactly as you are today.

This is one of the most difficult things I have had to even consider in deciding that yes, I do want to move on from this. I've heard it said a million times, in many guises and in many forms; on the internet, in books, at groups, in counselling. And as many times as I've heard it, a little bit of me has hoped it wasn't true.

I didn't quite get why this was at first, but as time has passed, and I've allowed myself to really hear what this is saying to me, I think I understand myself a little more.

Loving and accepting yourself today means letting go of what you think you should be tomorrow.

This is a terrifying thought at first glance. No more hoping that in future, I will be thinner (just one more diet, and that will be me - sorted).

No more hoping that one day, I might be that bit more beautiful and attractive (just a bit more time, money and make-up).

No more 'future is brighter' thinking.

I'd have to make do with how I am now, and entertain the notion that I might be this way for always. The notion that this is as good as it gets. .

Time has passed since I first wrote this post. It's from a time earlier in the year, when I had been musing over what I had learnt.

As with most people, there are things I'd like to improve. This is what keeps us moving forward, and is a positive thing on the whole. Still. There lingers a bit of darkness around the edges. That bit of the eating disordered, negative mindset that hasn't quite disappeared. The part of me that would drive me to push for perfection, given half a chance.

Today, I cannot honestly say that I totally and whole-heartedly accept the idea that this is as good as it gets, or indeed that I am as good as I can ever be. But I can say that in practical terms, I'm moving closer to the positive and further from the negative than ever.

Until I'd given these ideas a go, they seemed very scary.

For example, it means not waiting until the next diet proved successful before I let myself buy new clothes. I would have to buy those clothes I want (or need - often it gets to the 'need' stage before I would brave a shop) today and wear them today. No saving them for best and waiting until the "right" moment. Why? Because I need to know that I am worth spending money on today. I'm not waiting for a better me to come along. I'm not waiting until I "deserve" nice things because I'm telling myself - through my actions and sometimes in my head - that I deserve them now. Just for being me.

It means going out and meeting new people, and making time for friends. I've missed many social occasions because I didn't feel that I was thin enough, beautiful enough, well-dressed enough, funny enough, interesting enough to "deserve" to go out. I've been afraid that if I did spend time with people, they'd find me out. I'd be shown to be an ugly, mean, uninteresting fraud.

Accepting that this body - this me - might well be all I have has meant having to work with it as it is, and live in it. Part of this has meant making myself - sometimes even forcing myself - to go to social occasions. Most of the time, I'm glad to have gone. It's proven to be far more successful that I'd thought and I have been accepted and even welcomed by other people.

Don't get me wrong; meeting people is something I've always been a little nervous about and still makes my stomach flutter sometimes. There are certain people and certain situations I'm yet to face. But I have faith that when I choose to do those things, they'll turn out far better than the previews in my head would have me believe.

It means treating myself with lovely, beautiful things - non-food things like underwear, bath treats and books - for no reason other than I am worthy of being surrounded by wonderful things. Books and bath treats have been pretty easy. Baths are an occasional - and often rather brief - pleasure, and relaxing is getting easier each time. Except when the water's too hot. I can always find a book I'd like to read, and making time to do so is getting to be a little more habitual.

What I'm yet to master is buying myself the longed-for underwear and making every day an occasion worthy of its wearing. I've not the easiest shape for buying lingerie, and it's not something I revel in doing, but it is up there as something important that I need to do for me. To show me that yes, I am a beautiful, gorgeous woman. I have curves and there are beautiful things I can wear on them and do with them. And I am well worth the investment. I'm sure my boyfriend wouldn't object all too strongly either!

So what more can I say on the subject of loving and accepting myself at this point?

Ultimately, it means not waiting until I am thinner to be happy. It means finding things to be happy about today - including how I look and feel about myself and my body. And I'm getting there.

Reality Bites

There is nothing I love more than to plonk myself on the sofa in my comfiest pyjamas and no-make up to watch reality TV. (Note: There are indeed things I love more, but you get the idea...)

Big Brother, Dating in the Dark, The Hills… I will literally watch anything and everything that's out there. It gives me a little thrill - a guilty secret - albeit one that doesn't make me feel guilty and is no longer a secret, evidently.

My all-time favourite show is America's Next Top Model, or ANTM, as devotees will know. This programme has its own acronym, it is so legendary! This programme technically goes against all that I stand for, in terms of not changing who we are - or what we look like - to fit with other people's opinions of who we should be to make it in this world. Being a modelling show, where the primary mode of judgement is on a person's appearance, it doesn't seem to fit that I'd be talking about its merits here.

But this is what I plan to do. And here's why.

There are three things I've taken from this type of programme that help me to feel good about myself and think about how I see myself and others. I think it's important for me to share them here, because chances are, some other women with issues around food and their bodies are out there, watching these programmes. If we're going to watch them, we might as well get something positive from them!

So here goes... ANTM does positive body image and here's my evidence:

Lesson #1: Being thin does not make you happy.

We see this time and again on this show and I've experienced it for myself. Attaining thinness and society's idea of beauty does not equal feeling happy, confident and secure.

There are more tears than tiaras at ANTM headquarters as the girls experience being judged, comparing themselves to others whilst learning who they are, and who they want to be. They suffer the same worries about wearing bikinis or being naked on film as I have (and still do) when the prospect of a camera being near arises. The sheer bafflement I first felt at why beautiful (read: thin) girls who appear to have everything (again, read: thin) would feel insecure now makes sense to me.

We all have issues. Including people who are thin and fir the mould of what is deemed beautiful in our society. And, rightly or wrongly, I find this reassuring.

Lesson one, then, is that being thin will never make us any less us. We'll still feel how we feel and we'll still be us at whatever size or shape we happen to be.

As an aside, I remember hearing comedian Russell Brand once talking about the frustration at never being able to take a holiday from himself, as he always has to take himself along. How many of us would choose to leave ourselves behind if we could, and have a week away from ourselves?

Lesson #2: SMIZE!

Tyra's catchphrase over the last couple of seasons is to repeatedly telli the girls to 'smize' in their photos.

For those of you not yet in on this one, it means she wants them to smile with their eyes. To do this, we need to think of something that makes us feel happy and it will then show in our eyes (whether or not we are doing the model standard of not actually smiling). Seeing the girls of ANTM smizing for the camera - and, of course, for Tyra and the judges 'on panel' - I've picked up something I can use myself in real life.

By focusing on the things that make me feel happy, it shows in how I look, think and behave. I come across differently; I exude an inner confidence that others can really see.

For me, my inner happiness comes from thinking about my boyfriend's cat purring in my lap. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, and loved. It makes me feel happy. He also does the perfect cat-shaped smize; something that's probably rather necessary since he doesn't have the ability to actually smile!

Lesson two then, is that how we feel shows in our faces.

And this is the essence of SMIZING. Deep, Tyra, deep.

Lesson #3: Technology makes or brakes the images we see.

It's said time and again, but it's only when I see the behind-the-scenes work that goes into producing the 'perfect' picture or video that it is brought home to me. Airbrushing changes how people look. They don't look like how they look in pictures. So why is it that we go along with the notion that we should be held to this standard as we go about our daily lives?

Now, don't get me wrong.

I love magazines. Truly. I adore the imagery, real or unreal, and can be known to sneak a sniff of the pages pre-read (I do make it clear that I've got issues, right?). And I will be the first person to say that the media wasn't a deciding factor in me developing an eating disorder.

It's just important to remember that a photograph or a carefully edited television show is what it is: an image. Pieces of art. They are not an accurate snapshot of a person at that given point in time. They are manipulated to portray a message, and it's not always a message we should act upon, or take upon ourselves to live out.

Lesson three, then, is to be media savvy. Don't forget that for every image you see, there is a whole team of people working to make it what it is. The model's just one part of the picture. It's a collective work of art.

So there is more to reality TV than meets the eye, right? Well... yes and no.

On my own journey to move forward from disordered eating, I've learnt not to see things through an eating disordered filter. I can appreciate that for many, this isn't yet possible. It might thus be more beneficial for those people not to watch things that they may see as "triggering", for lack of a better term.

Whilst I can appreciate how ANTM might not be the best viewing for those with disordered eating, for me, it's fun. It's escapism. I hope that I've shown that we can take what we will from the media. If we choose to see it as threatening, we will find nothing but the bad in it. If we can put on our positive specs, we might see it a little differently.

Looooooooove me xxx

Note: Written earlier in 2010, whilst at work. Underemployment = spending too much time thinking about ANTM. Could that be another lesson?! ;-)

Realisations

This week I have been a mess, to put it nicely. I managed to get a bit of a cold last Friday, which left me feeling drained for the weekend.

On Monday I saw my new counsellor. She was great, and I'm to make further appointments with her, but when I went back to work, I got a migrane and had to go home. To be sure it was gone, I stayed home Tuesday. I painted for the first time in ages. I felt more drained. I

I went to my ED group, taking the opportunity to walk there and get some fresh air and exercise, and it was really interesting and I felt like I had a lot to say. I came home feeling drained.

I came back to work and struggled through the day, trying not to break down in tears, worrying my already-whirring head about what the hell was wrong with me - was I falling into depression again? I cried to my boss a little when she asked how I was. I thought about not going in the next day; I was probably still ill. I went to my dance class, and my brain slowed a little. I ate badly. I felt drained.

I spoke to my man. He said he notices that I get anxious about a week prior to my visiting family. It felt like a lightbulb moment. Why hadn't I realised? I kind of knew I wasn't embracing the visit to the family - I generally approach these events with trepidation - but when I put the pieces my partner so gently put before me together, it made sense. And I made it to work today.

To fill you in a little, I don't come from a 'bad' home. My parents, though now divorced, are generally fine with me and my siblings are great, if not a little annoying sometimes. As the oldest child, I was put in a place of knowing the ins and outs of my parents' mixed-up lives and problems. I'm only just beginning to put these pieces together for myself (with a little help) and realise how they've affected me.

I guess what I've taken from this hideous week is that sometimes, you have to feel things if you want to move forward. I have to accept these feelings are there, acknowledge them, unpick them and then work out how to let go and move on. I'm at the beginning bit now; hopefully as I go through these processes it will all become clearer. And maybe I'll realise my mind is not always as daft as it can feel!

Falling in love with books again

Being a bit cheeky, I nabbed my flatmate's copy of 'The Lovely Bones' off the shelves and ended up spending my evening trying not to leave any evidence of my reading on her virgin book. This is hard. As a serial book-bending, corner folder, I am instinctually driven to ruin paper. I like to feel I'm able to leave my mark on the reading experience, even if that means a bit of my dinner makes its way between the pages.

Anyway, I'm getting off the point. It's not often anymore I get literally lost in reading. It vaguely happened over Christmas when I read Sarah Waters' 'The Little Stranger', though this was hampered by my acute awareness of silence at the boyfriend's parents (I'm a bit scared of silence - blame growing up in a TV-permanently-on house). But this book hit me in my heart, mind and soul, and took me out of myself and into the mind of Susie Salmon; the book's unfortunate heroine.

Given the uncomfortableness with which reading a book half-open brings, I bought my own copy today to consume over the weekend. I took extra pleasure in flattening it out and making the spine wrinkle on my lunch hour. Folding the first corner it, too, was satisfying. And it's mine. I like having my own things. Even books.

I realised how useful books can be in taking you out of yourself. They can help you to forget about your worries, and step into someone else's head for a little while.

For me, it doesn't matter if that head is in a dark place - I shall indeed read 'The Road' despite it's bleakness (the movie stuck with me and I can't quite let it go yet). I adore exploring their dark corners, drawing parallels with mine and lavishing in their differences, like a forbidden treat.

Nor does it matter if it's a very light place; an air-head of a book, so to speak. I fell a little bit more in love with Bex; the heroine of Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic series that I guiltily stole from my sister's shelf over a period of time. My favourite book thus far is Sarah Waters' 'Tipping the Velvet'; not exactly air-head, but so far removed from my life I draw little parallels with it. But its opening paragraph - describing the Whistable oysters - never fails to draw shivers of excitement down my spine. I can climb inside Nan's head and hide out a little while.

It's the being in the moment, despite not in my moment, but in that of a character. It's leaving my own worries to the side for the moment, to wonder at those of others'. It's forgetting to watch Katie Price's latest debacles because I'm wanting to get to know Susie Salmon.

Dark moments

I can think of two particular moments in my life in which I felt truly and utterly hopeless:

Occasion One: Realising thin doesn't equal happy

I can't remember exactly where it was, but around Christmas 2004 I had a sinking, gut-wrenching, heart-breaking realisation that I was thin. And still unhappy. In one of the rare snap-shot moments I had of seeing myself more or less as I was - at that point, a very thin, sad-looking girl - it came to me: I was thin and not happy. Thinness didn't bring the happiness it promised. I wasn't any prettier; I wasn't any cleverer; my problems were still there. 'Sinking feeling' doesn't describe it. It is one of the scariest, most hopeless times of my life. Not long after, I gave up. And the bingeing began.

Occasion Two: Standing on the edge

I was living in a foreign country as part of my university degree and Occasion One had occured a month or two earlier. My memories of this time are dark. I lived in a self-contained bedsit student room, made of stone. My first night there, I slept in a scratchy brown blanket and cried. The time was full of half-conscious moments. I struggled to make friends because I so wanted to be alone, yet was so desperate for someone to care I did things that make my toes crawl now; so degrading. I lost my best friend at the time, who seemed to turn against me. People stopped talking to me and I didn't know why. I was lonely, exhausted and bingeing on chocolate and cakes (nutella straight out the jar) because I didn't know what foods I'd like and was starving still from my anorexic year.

Later, I realised my behaviour was probably erratic and off-putting to those around me, who couldn't - or didn't want to - understand.

I knew I needed help, so came all the way back to England to see a doctor here, who would understand me (language issues). He was awful. He told me I "wasn't thin, but wasn't fat" and not to worry. I had spilled my guts out to this man - this stranger who scared me as it was ( a nurse set me off on my road to losing weight - another story) - and he threw it back at me. May as well have spat on me and finished the job off, really.

One day, upon returning abroad, I think I'd had a row with the ex-best friend on the way to/from school. I remember waiting alone for the train, edging closer to the side of the platform. I wanted to jump. I wanted it all to end. I was just afraid of hurting the people I loved, and afraid, I guess, that even if I did jump, it wouldn't end. Scary.

Whilst I have had many dark moments since, these stand out for me as most poignant. I learnt that controlling food didn't help me control my life, and the dark bits in it. And I learnt that even at the bleakest times, we are never really alone. I've never been so far gone since, and I hope never to be again. So I guess what I'm saying is shit happens. The dark times come, and most often, they fade a little and you carry on. Sometimes all you can do is carry on and hope the bright times come. And when they do, you really, REALLY see them.

Slowing down...

My random thought for this afternoon is one of slowing down.

I've spent the past few days in a sort of boredom-fuelled haze, anxiously trying to find things to do or get menial tasks completed. In this mindset, food and eating become the centre of my universe. It's the nice bit around which the rest of my day unfolds.

Upon starting my current job, I moved away from my childhood home for what (I am determined) will be the last time. In learning my job, I was kept relatively busy and I can't remember much focus being upon food specifically. I lost up to a stone in the space of a few months as the anxious eating I had been doing living with the family no longer occurred. I could fit into my post-anorexia, binge eating clothes that I've been in for the past 3 years and avoid the heart-wrenching pain of having to buy yet larger clothes yet again. And all without thinking about food. Excellent stuff. Well done.

Now I'm fully established in my work-time position, the inevitable boredom has crept in. I took my current position knowing I'm overqualified and that I'd grow weary of it, but the money and opportunity to be with the person I love in the place that's now home took priority. I find myself thinking about and turning to food more often as a source of consolation; a past-time to make the day go quicker and a marker of time.

Career-wise, I don't know what I want to do with my life. I keep putting pressure on myself to hurry up and decide, resulting in a stressed-out feeling in my chest. Why? Because I feel I ought to, given the amount of time and money invested in my education; because I know I'm better than the job I'm in now; because I feel like I'm behind in this Game of Life.

I spoke to a really wise person from my dance class last night. I've never spoken to her before, but she made me realise that the world won't end because I'm not achieving what I think I ought just yet. That life isn't about a job - it's about the things you put round it. And that slowing it all down a bit might just be what the doctor ordered.

Today, I've panicked a bit less. I've searched a bit less frantically across the Tinterweb. I feel a bit less fuzzy.

There were reasons why I'm doing what I am right now:

• I need money and it's a recession
• I thought helping others would be meaningful, even if the work itself wasn't all that hard
• I need time to get better from my eating problems
• I need time for me in general to work things out
• I wanted to be able to see my boyfriend more often
• I wanted to be independent and free

As it stands, I'm kind of doing a bit of all these things. I'm not fully there yet, but I'm walking the path. Slowly. And maybe that's the right pace for me.

Making a start...

Having spent some time reading other people's blogs, I'm eventually making a start on my own. (Observation: This sentence smacks of listening to other people before making my own decisions, but then that's a whole other topic.)

It seems like I'm making a lot of starts at the moment, so perhaps there is something in the 'spring clean' phenomenon; it seems like I'm spring-cleaning my life. Plus I'm learning a lot about myself, that I was only partially aware of before:

First, there's a new flat on the horizon. I haven't been in my current flat all that long (six months - since the start of my current job), but my flatmate is moving forth with her life and thus me with mine. Realising that I don't enjoy spending much time alone, I've sought out (and found) a place with friendly inhabitants - ones that want to make friends with the people they live with, as opposed to just co-existing.

My current flatmate is really nice; just not there all that often. I thought I'd like a flat to myself, but it hasn't really felt like mine, given that it is full of someone else's things. So it's felt pretty empty, and the time I spend alone in it is mostly time spent very aware of the loneliness.

This seems to 'make space' or 'allow' for fairly regular episodes of binge eating. (I'd say I'm probably classed as someone with binge eating disorder of some type or another, though I'm not that keen on the eating disorder categorisation thing.) Generally, this is where I eat too much comfort food (ironically, creating the most uncomfortable feeling); get some sort of pay-off from feeling full (what I reckon is probably not feeling empty and being aware of my body); and then go to bed feeling a bit rubbish, probably texting the people that love me and worrying them, too.

Lesson 1: Loneliness is not good for me. Spending time with other people is and so that's what I will do.

Secondly, and probably the biggest new start I've made is my pre-and-post Christmas, I've-had-enough-of-this reaching out for help with said binge eating. I didn't always binge; it's a result of a 5 or maybe closer to 6-year relationship with eating problems (to be discussed in other posts). But yeah, I've got to a point where I really do want to change, and feel I'm in the best position to do this.

I have the support of an amazing man; one whom I can't quite believe I deserve to call my boyfriend, but nevertheless, he is and is also my best friend. My family support me and so do a couple of friends whom I am lucky enough to know and have in my life. And a special cat or two who bring warm fuzzles into my life (and occasional bite marks)! Brilliant,eh?

But at the end of the day, it's about me doing this for me; getting to know (and like) myself again; and putting the graft in.

What I've done so far:

• Contacted a local eating disorder group and attended an assessment;
• Been to an eating disorder support group;
• Asked for counselling at work;
• Attended a counselling session (didn't work out - another story(;
• Read three self-help books, all of which have some great suggestions and points I'm trialling every day)
• Kept two diaries: one with general stuff in and one for food and feelings;
• Started ballet;
• Booked myself on a self-esteem, eating-related course;
• Been open about this with the people close to me.

What I plan to do:

• Find the right counsellor for me to support me in making changes;
• Think about going to ask for GP support (fear of doctors generally keeping me from this right now);
• Keep trying to make changes and move forward from this.

Lesson 2: I have made leaps towards changing my relationship with food for the better. I still have a way to go, but this is huge. Kudos to me.

So yeah... big changes happening for me right now. Will keep you posted on how it goes.