the subthreshold

I had a mild setback with my workouts.

Last Thursday, we did a lot of upper body stuff: pushups, burpees, bag work, & mitt work. I guess I was a little too hardcore because I was ACHING the next day; everything from the chest up hurt.

A few days later, the pain on my right subsided, but my left felt worse. Upon closer inspection, I noticed a bulge on my ribs under my left armpit; it was painful to the touch. I was so swollen that it was actually messing with the nerves in my arm/hand.

After much freaking out and Googling, I determined it was only a strain (and not a tear).* I had to accept I wouldn't be able to box for a couple weeks.

Boo.

On top of this workout-reducing injury, I have gained about 4 pounds in the past 2-3 weeks. The rational part of my brain understands this is most likely muscle weight, especially since I've been better about eating protein after my boxing class. The irrational, anxious, eating disordered part of my brain screams, "OMG, IT'S FAT! IT'S FAT! FAT FAT FAT. OMG, YOU'RE GAINING WEIGHT. YOU ARE FAT." Then: "Where is the fat going? Can I see it? Is it here?" *pinch* "Here?!" *pinch pinch* "If I can't work out, it's going to get worse! I HAVE TO WORK OUT. I can't lose what I've gotten out of this so far! I HAVE TO WORK OUT."

I wish that part of me would disappear already. I want to think rationally. I want to do what makes sense.

(I have done some CRAZY things before, but I'll talk about some of those in another post.)

"As a general guideline, it appears that one third of patients fully recover [from an eating disorder], one third retain subthreshold symptoms, and one third maintain a chronic eating disorder." - Cleveland Clinic

I am definitely in the "subthreshold" category. It never goes away.
Maybe I can quiet it, or at least recognize it, but it will always be there, whispering snide remarks, promising mitigation of my anxieties, tempting me to be its only friend...

Even now, when I am HEALTHY – sculpted, thin, eating well – it whispers.

Even when my boyfriend tells me I'm beautiful and he loves my curves, it whispers.
Even in the moments when I think I can appreciate my own body, it whispers.

I have realized therapy for me will be a lifelong process. Not continuously, but continually.

I was talking with my therapist about this, and I named several times I already know will warrant me going back: when I find out I'm pregnant one day (and throughout the pregnancy as my body changes), during significant changes in my children's lives, through moves or job changes, etc.

(My therapist applauded my self-awareness, at least!)

And I say "going back" because my workplace is switching insurance companies and my therapist will no longer be covered come August 1. :( I've decided once that date hits, I'll take a break from therapy to see how I handle things...

Some good news: after my trainers worked with injured me during just one class, my muscle feels better! At the earliest, I'll be boxing again next Monday, but I don't want to push it.

*Y'all, I seriously forgot what a strained muscle felt like. I haven't had one since high school...possibly middle school. Then, I worked out every day and usually didn't get sore/strained. With boxing, I only work out twice a week and I still get sore after EVERY class.

appropriation

STOP USING THE WORD "ONLY."

Just because your eating disorder "isn't as bad" as someone else's does not make it any less painful. Just because you never weighed 60 pounds, just because you didn't have a heart attack, or just because you didn't die doesn't make your disease less real.

I ONLY lost 40 pounds!

I ONLY went down a bra cup size!

I ONLY went down 4 pant sizes!

I ONLY went without my period for 3 months!

The worst of my eating disorder ONLY lasted for three years!

If we just went by the physical manifestation, to the outside world, I was probably a sucky anorexic.

Does that discount any of my experiences, fear, or mental anguish? NO.

We all think the same thoughts and are all haunted by the same things, no matter how it shows on our bodies.

"I feel so gross. I forgot to ask for my Caesar dressing on the side when I ordered my salad...and I could just taste the overwhelming amount of fat I was consuming..."

"I hate food. I really really do."

"Blah! I just feel so disgusting right now. I'm really going to have to cut back my caloric intake this week."

"I don't want to be fat again!"

"I can't sleep yet, either. I can just feel the consumables slushing around in my stomach. I'm forcing water down, trying to keep myself completely hydrated; it keeps enzyme reactions at a normal speed in your system."*

Don't you dare think you are less worthy of treatment or help because you deem your illness less than another's.

*All those quotes were taking from ONE journal entry my senior year of high school.

secrets

I'll let you in on a little secret: anorexia nervosa made me want to die.

One night, while in high school, I was laying on the floor of my bedroom, crying. I had just finished doing leg lifts, crunches, and pushups...whatever physical activity I could do in the quiet of my room to cancel out the huge meal I had for dinner.

I was over it.
It was too much.
I was too fat. (Read: "fat." I wavered around 100 pounds at this point, I think.)

I just...wanted to die. I'd rather be dead than be fat. I never wanted to leave my bedroom. No person would ever want to look at my huge, ugly self ever again. No way. I might as well take all of them out of their misery and disappear.

But.

What if, when I died, they'd have to do an autopsy? Wouldn't they have to dissect me and weigh all my organs and body parts one at a time? THEY WOULD KNOW HOW FAT I WAS AND IT WOULD BE WRITTEN DOWN ON PAPER, ON RECORD FOREVER. My last weight would be gross and awful and that's all anyone would remember of me. THEY WOULD KNOW I'M DISGUSTING.

***

I actually thought these things.

It's National Eating Disorder Awareness Week. This year's NEDAwareness Week theme is "Everybody Knows Somebody" – and you know me.

1 in 5 (20%!) people who suffer from an eating disorder DIE because of the disease. That is the highest mortality rate of any mental illness.

I still struggle with things (thanks, anxiety) but I am now HEALTHY. I make sure I consume enough calories every day, and I eat a variety of foods. I try to go on walks. I try not to stress after a big meal or an unexpected snack.
And, most importantly, I'm getting counseling.

Suffering through something like this shouldn't be kept a secret. PLEASE tell someone, and get help.