Arielle's turn in Anne-Sophie's Pro-Recovery Project

Pro-Recovery Project: Arielle's Words

Anyone who knows me, who has read my blog for the last 4+ years, and has watched my motivational speaking videos knows that I am PRO-RECOVERY. Being pro-recovery is part of my very essence. I'm happy and excited to be part of Anne-Sophie's Pro-Recovery Project, which is showcasing one recovery blogger for each day in the month of February.

Well, readers, today is my day. And it's your day too. The day is waiting for you. Don't make it wait too long.

Anyone can tell you to recover. You have to choose recovery for yourself. But what's more - you GET to chose it for yourself. It's YOUR gift. It's YOUR reward. I always like to share a little something I call Arielle's Mantra:

Recovery is possible.

It's not a guarantee. It's a possibility.

It's not simple. It is difficult and sometimes seems impossible.

It's not a one-step process. It's a multi-step process complete with twists and turns and bending roads...and roads you didn't even know were there.

It's not the same for everyone.

It's not always a happy process. It's not always a sad process.

It IS empowering.

It's not about pleasing other people. It is not about them.

It's about YOU.

It's not about perfection. It IS about emotion. It IS about honesty. It IS about self-discovery and self-affirmation.

It's not about what you don't have. It's about using what you've got.

It's not about hiding. It's about finding and displaying.

It's not a quick-fix. It's a lifelong plan set into motion by truth and nurturing and self-love.

It's not about external factors or environment. It IS about what's within.

It is not crazy. It IS real.

Recovery is possible.

This mantra has its own tab on the top of my site. It deserves its own tab, because this right here is a mantra to repeat - over and over again. It's not only my mantra for you, it's my message to you.

When it comes to eating disorder recovery, there are many different kinds of people. There are those who believe in full recovery, those who believe in full recovery – but not for themselves, and those who do not believe in it at all. I think full recovery is possible for everyone. Will it happen for everyone? No. But is it possible? Yes. You get to choose to take the steps to do it. To put your plans and goals and hopes and dreams into action. The dream of New Life FREE of an eating disorder is an excellent, worthy dream that can become a reality.

There are a lot of factors that influence a person’s ability to recover, but real recovery from an eating disorder happens, and it happens every day. It’s not a matter of beating the odds, but of beating the eating disorder.

When influential folks say that full recovery from an eating disorder is unlikely, I get angry. When they imply that full recovery will happen to one in a million (or some equally incomprehensible number), I get upset. When they focus on all the people who have NOT recovered instead of those who have, I get emotional.

It’s difficult to promote recovery to those struggling with eating disorders when they are constantly being told that the odds are against them. Why bother trying at all? If you are already deemed to be (and doomed to be) a statistic from the start, what’s the point in paying money for treatment/care/counseling or getting support from friends/family/services? Isn’t it all a waste?

The short answer is: NO. Not only is recovery completely possible, it’s also worth every effort. Whether you’re involved with a whole treatment team, simply seeing one therapist, using an alternative support system, or going it alone – recovery is possible, real, and wonderful.

I know this, because I’m a recovered individual myself. It wasn’t always an easy path. I worked hard, used support, created support I didn’t already have, and kept climbing.

Today, I’m happy and healthy in body and mind. I've been fully recovered for some years now. I live my every day, a woman who is transformed from the girl she used to be. I think things start to disappear one by one as we recover. I think the more obvious pieces go first. We get to a healthy weight (whatever that is for us and our respective disorders). We let go of behaviors. We stop berating ourselves. We stop looking for perfection. We stop seeing perfection where it doesn't exist. We let go of pain. We let go of the past. We slowly let go of the thoughts, a day at a time, until we realize one day (like I did) that they're not there. They don't accompany me. They don't hide out in my mind waiting to come out if the opportunity presents itself. Call me “fat,” call me “ugly,” call me “stupid,” tell me I "shouldn't be eating all the food" that's on my plate... and I'll still be serene and confident in myself, in my recovery, in my body and my way of life. The change has taken place. I'm okay now. It's a beautiful reality.

I can't promise you that during some terrible, sad, or scary time in my life I won’t for a split second remember how I used to cope. But I can promise you this: I'm done with my eating disorder and I'm done with the thoughts, and if one ever does re-appear in my head, it'll be gone and I'll be on my feet no matter what life throws at me, because I've found the secret. I've learned to stand.

There have been a few times I've been asked, what are your top reasons in favor of recovery? Or is it worth it? Or more often, how do you know you're recovered? 

And this is the answer I always give:

- Because my life doesn't revolve around food, exercise, feelings of hunger, my own image in the mirror, the way my clothes fit, what people say to me regarding appearance or success/failure.

-Because I actually have a life.

-Because when I wake up in the morning I am content, not filled with despair.

-Because I don't have to work at it. It is now natural.

-Because I can help others without being triggered by them.

-Because I live by what I’m writing here.

-Because I like my body.

-Because I even, most of the time, LOVE my body.

-Because I am at peace with issues of my adolescence.

-Because I can eat without over-thinking.

-Because I don't binge or purge or starve myself.

-Because I don't even WANT to binge, purge, or starve myself.

-Because I don't care what the number on a scale says and it used to incredibly define me.

-Because I am a healthy weight.

-Because I appreciate myself instead of hate myself.

-Because I feel free.

I am here in the moment and not afraid to eat, look, live, love. And you can do it too.

The length of time isn't what's important. It can take 3 years or 30 years. The goal is to get to the point where you can say, “I'm free” and mean it. Don't give yourself a deadline. Don't beat yourself up for slip-ups. Just. keep. trying.

Understand my main point: being "recovered" isn't about always being happy 100% of the time—it's about knowing what to do when you're not.

No matter how many cons there are to your dilemma, one big pro outweighs them all: you getting better, you feeling better, you learning to live life again.

Put more faith in yourself than in your eating disorder. Don’t underestimate your power to move forward and stay there. It all starts with you.

(For more inspiring words and encouragement in the recovery department, visit Fighting Anorexia - and remember, once February comes to a close, Fighting Anorexia will be publishing links to every blogger who participated in the Pro-Recovery Project!)

Oh, and one more thing - just a friendly reminder:

Reasons For Recovery - Anne-Sophie Reinhardt's blog

Part of the blog series by different contributors - today is from Anne-Sophie Reinhardt who started this blog series.

Why should you even care to recover?

When the first thoughts of recovery started to occupy my mind back in late fall 2010, this questions was constantly going through my head. I still saw the life I led as too good to give up.
Why should I throw everything away, leave my husband for months and fight against this mysterious beast inside? Why should I give up a body that was so unnoticeable and therefor tolerable in order to gain weight and loathe myself even more?
Why should I change anything if life would always be sad and bleak? I could just go on like this and pretend that I am fine. I was still functioning and I would certainly know when to stop.

Eating disorders might kill others, but my anorexia would never kill me.

Knowing what I know now, I am terrified by these deceptive thoughts that are so horribly dangerous. Had I continued a few months longer on this path of self-destruction, I would have lost my life. I was in a state of confusion, sadness, emptiness and carelessness. My perception of reality was completely distorted.
I am glad I woke up just enough to start the process of healing before a disaster might have occurred.

When you recover, you give up a lot of things. You feel like you lose your life, everything you knew or thought you knew about yourself. But the truth is, you don’t.
You leave behind all the negativity that has surrounded you for so many years, in my case more than a decade. You give up destructive patterns and life-threatening behaviors and you transform yourself in ways you could have never imagined before.
I know that when you are in the midst of your eating disorder, you feel like nothing makes sense, life is just a series of horrible days, everything seems grey, bleak and hollow. You are, to put it mildly, in hell.
It is hard to imagine anything other than this. It is almost impossible to believe that life can be colorful, that feelings don’t have to hurt, that being healthy is not an unachievable goal, reserved for other, luckier people.
When friends, therapists or nutritionists tell you that your life can turn around, they lie, right? When they want to help you, they actually just want to hurt you. When they share their concern, they just want to make you feel inferior. When they tell you you need to gain weight in order to survive, they only want to fatten you like an animal.
Oh, how I know these thoughts, and how wrong they are. So utterly, utterly wrong. 
I wish I had learned sooner that the people around me truly loved me and that they were incredibly scared of this disease that had captured me. I wish I could have cared. I wish I could have seen how rich life could be and how precious every moment is. I wish I could have opened my eyes and my heart to all the beauty surrounding me.

But now, one year into recovery, I have lifted my point of view and what I see is bombastic.

Today I see what everybody around me had been talking about for so long. I feel the vibrant lust for life that others experience and I am, for the first time ever, thrilled and grateful to be alive. 
Working on myself and letting go off my eating disorder has completely changed every single aspect of my existence.
I feel the hope and the opportunity that each day embodies. I wake up full of energy, excited about the possibilities of the day. I am no longer the bundle of weakness I was a year ago, but full of energy and drive.
I can be spontaneous and make plans without them interfering with my ridiculous workout routine. I am able to drink a cup of my beloved Mocha at Starbucks without my eating disorder reprimanding me or calculating how long I’d have to slave away at the gym in order to burn the calories I consumed.
I am able to enjoy simply sitting on the couch with my husband, cuddling up to him while watching a movie. I love talking to a friend without having a guilty conscience that I am not exercising.

I appreciate my husband giving me a delicious chocolate mini cake for Valentine’s Day without freaking out about the calories and I enjoy every single bite while eating it. 

I learned that I am not just a hollow shell, but I have potential and I have so much love to give. 
I can be creative again using the space in my mind that used to be taken up by my eating disorder. I started to crawl out of my shell and actually learn to have self-confidence. I started to believe in myself and in the work I do and therefor have been more efficient and productive than ever before. I can even say that I am proud of myself without feeling ashamed.
I feel deeply, intimately and madly in love with myself and my body; a body with curves, imperfections and flaws, but so unique and forever mine. By learning to love the person that I am, I was also able to begin to love my husband on an infinitely deeper level. I am now a much better wife and lover.
I now notice the beauty in so many things that used to mean nothing to me. My taste buds have been in a state of ecstasy in the last year because of all the different, new kinds of food they were allowed to experience.
I learned to express anger, frustration, disappointment, sadness, agony or even joy without binging and purging. I don’t feel bad about feeling good about myself. I am no longer paralyzed by fear. I learned to confront it and practiced kicking it in the butt by doing it over and over again.
Problems don’t seem to be unresolvable anymore, they simply are challenges that can be mastered and that provide me with a chance to grow as a person.
Recovery teaches you many things, not only the art of eating regularly. When you recover, you learn life-changing skills that help you in all aspects of your life.

But the most important thing you learn when you heal is to take care of yourself and to rescue yourself from a fate threatening to take your life. 

Today, my life is anything but hellish and this can be true for you too. And that is exactly why you should care to recover.

Reasons For Recovery

 I’m collaborating with some other writers in a blog series for the month of February. The theme is: Reasons For Recovery. Anne-Sophie over at Fighting Anorexia asked several of us advocates to blog about the topic.  I'll be sharing mine on Feb 24th.  In the meantime I'm trying to post all of the other blog posts on Reasons For Recovery.

The first is from Abby Cooper who blogs at "A Piece of Me" 

February 1, 2012

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Something You Get When You Recover From Your Eating Disorder That You Didn’t Even Know You Wanted

Feelings.
When I was early in my recovery, feeling my own feelings wasn’t easy-or even desirable. I had internalized a false message that my natural sensitivities made me weak, and therefore they were less worthy. I felt like who I was was not acceptable. Because of beliefs like these, my eating disorder had developed to an intensity that I was no longer receptive to the world like I had been before.
I had gotten to the point in my disorder that before I even could recognize a specific emotion, I had an urge to use my eating disorder behaviors. I didn’t think I was emotional anymore. Those ED urges replaced “excited,” “sad,” “longing,” “desire,” “comfort” and left me with only my eating disorder. The eating disorder felt preferable-it felt less painful. I was less of a mess, less sappy, less all over the place. Of course my life was a big mess in a whole different way, but: I was more numb. It felt easier.
I never intended to numb myself out to my entire life, however. Recognizing, feeling, and valuing your feelings is both a necessary step in recovery and a wonderful part of living. One thing I’ve learned to appreciate in recovery, that I would have never appreciated if I had never had an eating disorder is this:
You can’t feel the best feelings without allowing yourself to feel and tolerate the most painful and uncomfortable ones.
Yes, it’s true that the eating disorder behaviors cushion the intensity of the feelings you don’t want. But they also mute the ones you do. It strips you of your vitality and humanity. You can’t pick which ones you can experience fully. So you have to let go and let them all in. This seems scary to someone with an eating disorder. But the way to do it is to ease in: notice, allow, don’t judge. You’ll notice the more obvious feelings first, and the more practice you get, the finer ones will slip through. It becomes a game of sorts-“I don’t know what I’m feeling” turns into “I’m sleepy!” or “I’m hungry!” or “I’m hyper!” or “I’m lonely” or “I need to create something.” You get better at feeling.
And it’s awesome.
Yesterday, I woke up lonely. I felt a bit mopey and not interested in any of my usual solitary activities, like reading or drawing or goofing around on my piano. I felt sad. And I didn’t do anything to STOP that feeling. I allowed myself to feel sad. I called my brother, we talked about it, and then we joked around a bit. The feeling didn’t stop me from having a nice moment with him. Then, around mid afternoon, a friend called and invited me over. ELATED! was the next feeling I felt. I felt it just as much as I had felt lonely. I decided to get outside before I went over to her house to boost my mood, and move around a bit. I really FELT the sunshine and the brisk air, and I really FELT my body move as I got some movement in. When I drove to my friend’s house, I played music, and really FELT that music, and let it put me in a better mood. And when I arrived at my friend’s house, we had an awesome time just hanging out. I drove home that night feeling connected, loved, grateful, and warm.
I got all of those things in one day. And it was perfect.
I could have never had that day if I still used my eating disorder.
So, am I sensitive?
Yes.
Do I feel a lot of things?
Yes.
More so than other people?
Probably.
Is that weakness?
No.
It’s strength, because I know what I had to work through to be able to get here and accept and embrace this part of myself. Those feelings allow me to be in relationship and connect to life.
Not only is connectivity to your feelings possibly the biggest reason to recover, it’s one of the biggest and best reasons to be alive.

 fightinganorexia.com