Читать книгу Road to the Rainbow: A Personal Journey to Recovery from an Eating Disorder Survivor - Meredith Seafield Grant - Страница 14

CHAPTER ONE The Pain, The Past

Often people ask, “What made you get or have an eating disorder?” Each person has a different story as to how their eating disorder developed or progressed, which I believe adds to the difficulty in helping those suffering from the disease. For some it is peer pressure or media influence or athletics, but for others it can be a way of coping with abuse: physical, sexual or emotional. Also, divorce or death of a parent, or the breakdown of a relationship can be the catalyst; the list is long. But for sure, an eating disorder stems from something deeper than weight and food. The preoccupation with weight and food are a symptom of other issues.

My first issue was abuse.

I remember being a happy although sensitive kid. My life changed when I was 10 and babysat for a neighbour. I remember feeling very uncomfortable around the father and that he used to touch me in places where I had never been touched before. His words and messages were damaging to me. They killed my self esteem when I was too young to know better. During flashbacks in adulthood, I remembered being told by this neighbour that I was fat and ugly and that anyone of any worth would have nothing to do with me. He became mad at me if I ate anything at their house. I recall him putting my head in the toilet making me be sick to get rid of it. It was a horrible and painful memory to relive but the memories have shed light on my thoughts and subsequent behaviour as I was growing up.

The abuse happened in an era when such things were not discussed, and as a result I kept the abuse a secret until I was 21 years old. Time has allowed me to deal with this issue, but in reality it served as the onset of my eating disorder. The abuse changed how I felt about myself and influenced future relationships for years. The abuse became the root; it grabbed hold. The thoughts and feelings that had developed during the abuse continued to be reinforced.

During the time of my abuse I was a “chubby” child, as I recall being called. I used food as a comfort and used it to cover over my pain. From this time until the end of high school I used food as a way to numb the pain. Other pressures were evident: peer pressure, comments and jokes from boys. In grade 5, I was chased down the street after school by a couple of the popular boys at school who called me Bessie the Cow. I was devastated. I remember thinking maybe my abuser was right. These boys were reinforcing the thoughts that had already been firmly placed in my mind.

Preoccupation with food and weight at this time was also emerging within my family. My dad had been told by his doctor to lose weight and he heeded his advice immediately, seeming to live off half a grapefruit and chilled consommé.

There is such irony about weight. It is not healthy to weigh too much, but it is equally as life threatening to weigh too little. Unfortunately Dad’s eating behaviour and the knowledge he was gaining about food, weight, cholesterol, etc., became information that was shared with us as well, in excess. Dad will be the first to acknowledge hounding us on our eating habits. As a family, we have been able to discuss this influence and how important a support system is, not only in recovery, but its influence in how you perceive yourself.

“A parent’s or caretaker’s view of him/herself, and views towards food, exercise and body image can have a huge impact on a child.”

Messages of losing weight were also reinforced by the diet books and quick fix diets plastered on magazine covers picked up by Mom at the local grocery store. My mother was not alone in these purchases. Most of my friends' mothers had the same magazines on their coffee tables. Also, as early as elementary school the “girls” envied the stars and the shapes they portrayed on the pages of magazines and on television screens.

Within our family, weight issues were a concern of more than one relative. I remember going to my grandmother’s and diet pills were everywhere. My aunts talked about the battle of the bulge. It was pervasive.

It certainly was not my parent’s intent to encourage an eating disorder. In my father’s case he was following doctor’s orders and in my mother’s case, influenced by media messages and her own personal environment. As my dad always said, “You don’t go to school to be a parent,” and parents certainly have not been well informed on eating disorders. The shame of it is that often parents have to learn about eating disorders long after symptoms are recognized, instead of having the information as a proactive device earlier on.

The truth is that we are bombarded with messages about food and weight. We are obsessed with cooking shows and recipes, but at the same time encouraged to limit intake and join one weight program after the other...mixed messages? I certainly think so. You can watch a program with celebrity chefs like Wolfgang Puck creating a cheese dish and the commercial following the program is a Weight Watchers promotional ad.

And so a trend developed. Through therapy, journaling and education I began to see that while low self esteem was firmly rooted, continuing circumstances reinforced those ingrained messages.

I have often said throughout my recovery, “Give me any other problem with a substance,” for example, cigarettes. In truth, your body does not need nicotine to remain alive but it does require food, so you must learn how to deal with it. The reality is food serves a variety of purposes beyond nutrition. In food, people find comfort. They use it as a reward. It’s a hobby for others, a recreation. But also to many, food is an enemy.

The trick is appreciating it for what it is...fuel. I have said to students, “Think of it like gas in a car: too little it won’t move; too much it overflows.” For all of us it means finding a happy medium. For an eating disorder sufferer this happy medium often seems elusive, but it is possible.

The innocence of the child. Meredith around 2 years old.

The innocence taken away. 10 years old... abuse beginning.

Increase in weight, using food as a comfort.

The Past Continues.....

While the abuse triggered the development of an eating disorder, emotional issues also escalated the problem.

In grade 9 I attended a private school with very bizarre practices which continued to complicate my problem. Before I stepped in the door of this establishment I had low self esteem. Having been abused, I was emotional and vulnerable. Unfortunately, while not planned, the school became yet another reinforcement of low self esteem.

Three episodes in particular were notable. The first was during a Bible class with all the female boarders. The headmaster’s wife read a scripture dealing with men and women, with the message that any intimacy prior to marriage was a sin. I thought, “Not only do I feel odd to begin with having been touched and treated inappropriately by a neighbour, but now in the eyes of God I am considered a sinner too.”

The reinforcements continued. During a communion service I fell asleep and one of the girls said she wanted to talk to me with the “ladies” after chapel. I remember three staff members and this girl saying they felt a bad spirit from me in church and that I needed to ask the lord to show me where I was wrong. Everything was always my fault. I wasn’t even allowed to be tired. The influence and the mind bending tricks by the ladies continued. I recall being awakened by one of the “ladies” (this is the phrase given to the female staff) very late in the evening (I had been asleep for some time). I was brought into a room where all the female staff were waiting. I remember thinking how it was extremely odd that one was ironing while the remainder of them sat in a circle on chairs. What was going on? I soon found out.

I was put in the middle of this circle. One by one they insulted me, said I had a bad spirit, and that I was a rotten apple spoiling the barrel. They asked if I knew what my problem was? I answered no. They went on to discuss their theory... my problem was that my father loved my brother, and he didn’t love me.

What kind of sick people do this? I certainly did not think God-fearing Christians did. Over the years I have learned not to equate all Christians with this group and thankfully redeveloped my faith. The sad thing about this incident is that I believed them for many years thereafter. It was another thought that was wrongly enforced on me that continued to grow. I was only 14 years old. I was feeling so confused and cornered by these adults. I felt as though I had little or no control over anything, including my feelings.

I decided to go on a hunger strike, eating nothing, and I lost 20lbs in a little over two weeks. I was driving the staff nuts and it became a tool for getting me out of the school as a boarder. I was being heard; I had power; I had control.

Things seemed to settle down for a while when I returned to the local high school with familiar friends and a happy environment, but deep down I still felt sad and overwhelmed by the feelings I had inside. I had particular difficulty with relationships, especially in terms of intimacy. I began to overeat, initially to comfort myself, and ballooned to 178lbs (the first of many unhealthy weights). I didn’t feel any better at this weight and I was out of control: not only was my weight out of control, but also my life. I asked myself if I had ever felt in control. If only for a brief moment I did remember sensing control when I lost weight. It began again. But this time it was different.

I began with losing a few pounds, looking and feeling better and trying any diet that would hasten results. Positive comments began, and I felt good, but food was always around and I began a love/hate relationship with it. On the one hand, I had used it for comfort to the point of excess and on the other, it became an enemy. As I continued to lose weight and the number on the weigh scale continued to decline, it became a game, and an aspect of control I had never sensed before. With all the things that had happened and the feelings I had hidden inside, the need for control became intense.

I think it is important to note that this need for control and the loss of weight were happening at a time when I still had not told anyone about my childhood experiences. Also, the loss of weight and this element of total control were becoming euphoric. I thought about nothing other than the scale and losing more and more weight. It didn't matter what happened in my life. All the things that I couldn’t control became comforted by what I could...my weight.

While at university my disordered eating became serious towards the end of my time there. The need to succeed, finishing something, became another pressure. To do well wasn’t good enough. The already obsessive thoughts of having to be perfect, everything right, were full steam ahead. The weight continued to drop and if I had to eat anything that was not planned I went into a rage. My first attempt at suicide took place during this time. I had never been that sick and it had surprisingly gratifying results...I had lost 10 more pounds. But while the weight continued to fall off, my self loathing continued and increased. I was beginning a life of self torture.

I completed university which was a huge accomplishment for me. Then, within a year, I was on my way to Tucson, Arizona to perform with the entertainment group Up with People. This group continued to reinforce the body image that was becoming ingrained in my mind. Since a high priority was put on looks, presentation and the entertainment value, it became yet again an issue that could not be avoided. I remember girls being pulled from lead roles because they were too heavy. They were devastated and it just made me want to continue keeping control. It became another reason to keep on doing what I was doing. I was down to eating only an apple a day.

The control became insane. I don’t know when I crossed the line. All I know is that journals were no longer chronicles of life but rather pages and pages of weight entries, calorie intake, exercise, calories burned, days planned around how I would avoid situations with food, and if I had to eat, how I would get rid of it.

I have read through years and years of these journal entries. Moments of euphoria were noted if I had lost weight and hours of anxiety if I had not. I look back on those entries and acknowledge that there were no feelings, no thoughts, no emotions...just numbers and more numbers.

As we toured, while staying with host families I would immediately go to the bathroom to find a scale. In Europe, I had to convert kilograms to pounds, so a calculator was in order. But what was happening, even though I couldn’t see it at the time, was that my low body weight resulted in poor judgement and irrational thoughts. I was becoming very depressed. During Christmas break, my boyfriend of seven years broke up with me at 12:50 on New Year’s Eve. My depression reached a critical level. I returned to Up with People in the US in January. During a stay in Hattiesburg Mississippi, I took every pill in my host family’s medicine cabinet in my second attempt to kill myself. I was very ill, but death escaped me again.

Lisa, a dear friend in the cast became my rock. We were in New Orleans for a two-hour stay until we headed to our next overnight city, Mobile, Alabama. I told her I just didn’t think I was going to make it. I was so depressed. I told her what had happened. I said there was something very wrong that despite this wonderful opportunity to travel, I felt nothing.

I remember calling my parents from a payphone in Mobile. I told my dad that I had to come home; if I didn’t now, I never would. He was great. He said that I was to book a ticket and he and Mom would pick me up in Syracuse, New York. I asked them not to ask questions when they picked me up. I vaguely remember the pick up. I felt numb. The disease had grabbed hold.

When I arrived home I saw a therapist, but because she was a family friend it was not the right fit. I then began seeing Bridget and continued to do so for years. During this time, my mom and I went for a walk in the pines, a wooded area west of our home, and she was struggling as a mother to understand what was going on. Why did I have such self loathing? I had so much to live for...why couldn’t I see that? This is when I finally told her about the abuse. I have never seen my mother so distraught. Did it feel better to tell her? Yes, but at the same time, due to my malnourishment and inability to look at a situation rationally, I thought it was the wrong thing to do because now it had hurt Mom. Can you see how the cycle gets so twisted?

My parents were more than willing to take action against my abuser and perhaps others would have done so, but I decided to leave it alone. I did not want to relive it again. The thing that seemed to be most important to me was getting that information out. This became the beginning of an outpouring of emotion. The struggle to do so continued for another ten painful years.

And it got worse before it got better.

I continued to work and ran on adrenaline. I seemed to be able to keep up with deadlines and actually excel in my projects. It was as if work and the disease were an all consuming preoccupation in my life (even though I denied the problem). The insanity continued; it was as though there was a sense within me that life was destined to be short. I was feeling so many things. The eating disorder already had its grip on me when I told my family about the abuse. Perhaps things might have been different if I had been able to talk about the abuse years earlier. I will never know, but I think if I had discussed it then, expressed myself in a healthy manner, the horrible journey through eating disorders may have been derailed.

“I believe the element of being able to express yourself is key to avoiding the onset of an eating disorder as well as avoiding a relapse in recovery.”

I will continue to reinforce this element of expression throughout the book.

The next few years saw the continuation of weight loss. The grip of anorexia was strong during this time. I was married in 1990 to Bill, a true angel. He did more than try to help and support me through this struggle but the disease was overwhelming...stronger than either of us would know.

My weight dropped and dropped to the lowest point of 78 lbs on this 5’8” frame of mine. Over the years I had been hospitalized on several occasions while always insisting that I didn’t have a problem...that I was fine. I couldn’t see then what I see now: the importance of nutrition not only for my body but for my mind. Not only had I lost weight. I had in the process lost my self, my soul and my spirit. I had lost my sense of reality. I became paranoid, hypersensitive to criticism, and I hurt. I hurt all over. I lost myself to the point that I just wanted to die, to have it all over with because to let go of this control would be too overwhelming to bear. To gain a pound meant I had failed, that I was no longer good at one thing.

I wouldn’t... more importantly... I couldn’t let go.

I wanted to be thinner and thinner, in hopes of eventually disappearing. A part of me took pride in my achievement. I had always considered myself mediocre, not good at anything. I finally found something I was good at...really good at.

I continued to flip through magazines as many of us do. I would continue to make sure I could feel my ribs and get my thumb and first finger around my arm. I would constantly measure my waist, my thighs, and top off the process with a step on the scale. I would see others who I deemed thinner than I and would write that I still had a long way to go before I was that thin. I think there is a bizarre envy that women have towards other women who seem to have controlled their weight, particularly when you have an eating disorder. In August of 1993 I received a letter from an anonymous young woman in the town in which I lived, who was also an eating disorder sufferer. Perhaps what was most unsettling about the letter was the following:

“I thought maybe it would make me feel better to write to you and tell you that I admire your willpower and strength to continue being as thin as you are. Every time I see you I feel envious of that power and it scares me because I want it.”

There is something very different with respect to perception when you are suffering from an eating disorder. When you get into this “headspace”, it becomes a language all its own and to break through is one hell of a difficult task. Everything took a second seat to my disease: my relationship, my family, friends and ultimately, my work.

Over the next few years, I was in and out of hospitals with my health continuing to deteriorate along with almost all my relationships. My menstrual cycle had stopped years before. I was emaciated and constantly cold. My skin was a pasty colour. My electrolytes were out of whack; potassium levels low, teeth deteriorating, and muscle spasms beginning. Emotionally I was lethargic, extremely irritable and easily frustrated. The need for perfection was intense. The self torture was insane and it affected everything and everyone around me.

How did I get better? It did not happen overnight but instead was a lengthy road to a life I now call the rainbow. Throughout my journals, a number of things reappeared that were good. They helped make it a better day, and with patience and time, a better life. My hope is that the information I share with you will help you too.

Hovering around 80 lbs.

1990 Honeymoon in Florida

1991 – 93 lbs.: Smiles... but everyday a struggle.

One of a few hospital stays.

Ringing in the New Year... a wonderful location.

CHAPTER ONE IN REVIEW

It is amazing how life, when you let it, does indeed fall into place and come full circle. With it, constant changes, and what I know now is a constant process. Today with wellness those changes are manageable. I see so clearly now that the key to dealing with change is being balanced mentally, physically and emotionally.

Upon reviewing Chapter One, “The Pain the Past”, I am reminded just how the life process works. I discussed a few of the issues that served as a catalyst for my disease: sexual and emotional abuse, family dynamics, peer pressure and the media.

Still today the media continues to promote the perfect body and at the same time discusses the issue of eating disorders to a degree never seen before. It is strangely becoming the “in thing” to have. Each week another tabloid is exploiting another young actress as she struggles to survive in the public jungle, coping by shedding pounds. While the exposure to the disease’s issues is a good thing, the fame they are attaching to it is not. At the same time, one of the top rated television programs presently is “The Biggest Loser”.

What I have come to realize with all the exposure to weight issues, be it the obesity epidemic in North America or the danger of eating disorders, is that the news is not going to disappear. My recovery and the personal work I continue to do allow me to filter out this information, putting it where it needs to be without affecting me personally. I encourage those embracing the road to recovery to do the same.

I’ve been asked by readers, “Do the old messages ever go away?” The question often being asked is in reference to my sexual abuse by a neighbour, and the emotional abuse by members of the clergy at the private school I attended in high school. My answer is…the messages never go away completely but with wellness I have been able to process them in a way that they no longer influence my day to day activities.

That’s what recovery allows you to do; realistically put things where they need to be placed within your life’s history. What you ultimately realize is that you can choose to stay in the past and the negativity that’s attached to it, or you can deal with the present, the now and move on. This aspect of being 100% present in the now has been key to how I live my life today.