Yesterday, I woke up and put on jeans that finally fit me. Yesterday, I ate breakfast and splurged on a coffee because I was so content with the way my clothes were fitting me. Yesterday, my doctor looked at me with a smile on her face. Yesterday, she told me she was impressed with my progress. Yesterday, I looked back at her and jokingly remarked that she was about ready to throw my ass back into the inpatient program about a month ago. Yesterday, I weighed in at my goal weight.
No, it is not the unrealistic number I calculated perfectly to keep me at the body mass index that would validate to me and everyone else that I have an eating disorder. No, it is not something I plastered in the bio section of a “recovery” Instagram account. No, it is not unhealthy for my height.
My goal weight, defined by my treatment team, is the minimum weight considered to be safe for my height. Anything below my minimum safe weight is considered to be underweight, and thus, in my mind, still qualifies me as sick.
It’s a paradoxical phenomenon to be in the brain of someone with an eating disorder. Allow me to paint a picture of words for you:
As someone with an eating disorder, I have attempted to disconnect myself from my body. At the same time, my body is my mode of communication for how I am feeling – when I am happy, I am goofy and smile a lot; however, when I am stressed, I am eating less, looking more glum, and genuinely struggling with minimal life tasks. In the height of my eating disorder, it was evident I was sick in some way, shape or form. That lower weight solidified my feelings; it validated I was indeed “sick enough” to have anorexia-nervosa. Where the paradox comes in is here: as an advocate for those affected by eating disorders, I like to make it very known that there is no look, shape, or size to an eating disorder. There is no defining mark of being “sick enough,” and in fact, many who experience eating disorders never reach the point of being “underweight for their height.”
Now that I have reached my goal weight, I must say, it is a bit off-putting. It’s almost as if I worked so hard at losing the weight just to gain it all and back and be miserable… but I’m not miserable. Someone asked me how I felt about weighing in xxx pounds – I’m not sad about reaching my goal weight. I am the complete opposite.
I am thrilled about reaching a goal that seemed almost impossible a month ago. I am proud of myself for agreeing to renter treatment even though I had to make several sacrifices. I am content with having made weight in treatment and continuing to be successful at a means of saving my own life.
Meeting my goal weight doesn’t mean xxx pounds. It doesn’t make me a failure, which for someone with an eating disorder, is a valid and real feeling after weight gain. It doesn’t always feel good, but when change is inevitable and recovery is worth it, we have to be willing to be uncomfortable.
It doesn’t mean I no longer have an eating disorder. It just means that I am beating it.
Image via Thinkstock.