Let's be honest....

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, I've been struggling this week with my own motivation to work out.  I've been eating ok, but I have been feeling rather uncomfortable in my own skin and frustrated with myself for getting in my own way and, in some twisted way, intentionally sabotaging my own happiness.

Just having a sad panda kind of day.

Everything in my life is going pretty great at the moment: I just started a new job & I really enjoy it, I just made it "official" with my boyfriend, it's summertime....life is good.  But with all of this good comes a lot of change and change causes me anxiety.  As I've talked about before , this kind of anxiety manifests itself to me a via food and exercise obsession.  I am having trouble letting myself simply sit with that anxiety and instead I am taking it on myself by not exercising and focusing my energy on how "lazy" and "fat" I am.

I was thinking about all of this tonight when I came across this article in my favorite British tabloid: The Daily Mail.  In short, a judge ruled that a hospital must force feed an anorexic woman, aged 30, who was in danger of dying, despite both the girl AND her parents saying it is the girl's choice whether she lives or dies.  I really don't know where I stand on this issue.

When I was in the worst of my disorder I knew that if I did not do something to pull myself out of the misery that was my day to day existence that there was a good chance I'd end up another statistic of the disease.  (Eating disorders are the most fatal of all psychological diseases with the most common cause of death being from suicide.)  I was fortunate enough to be able to cling to some sliver of hope and decided on my own to get the help that I needed.  But that was the key: *I* decided.  No one forced me.

Can help be effective when it is forced and not willingly entered into by the sufferer?  I tend to not think so.  When my best friend confronted me about my issues and told me I needed to get help, I got a lot worse.  It wasn't until *I* made the decision to get help that I actually got better.  So what does forced treatment for this girl do?  Keeps her physically alive, yes.  But what good is being physically alive if you hate every second of it?  So what's the alternative?  Let her kill herself?  That doesn't seem like a good option either.  What's the happy medium?

Living in recovery from an eating disorder is like asking an alcoholic to move into a bar.  You still have to deal with you triggering substance every day of your life.  I'm not saying I have the answer to this problem. But when I see articles like these and I know most readers are probably thinking how obvious a solution seems to them, I feel like I must speak up, as someone who can see the situation from both perspectives.

Just some food for thought.

Let's be honest....

I aim to make this a fitness blog that doesn't take itself too seriously and is more of a conversation, less of a reference guide.  Sure, I want to share info and push you to think about fitness differently, but I also want to be honest and share feelings and struggles so we can get through them together.  I never want to be disingenuous in my blogging and I think that's what makes the blog a fun place to be.  My voice, your voice, a conversation.

So with all that being said, I need to be honest with you guys.  I'm struggling a bit right now.  Like the name of the blog suggests, I'm not perfect.  And though I've kicked the ass of the eating disorder that I struggled with for so long, I still have my bad days.  Right now, I'm having one of them.  I feel like a bit of a stranger in my own body and I don't like the feeling.  Some days, weeks, months, I eat really well without giving it a second thought, bounce out of bed to run to the gym, and love every second of it.  This is not one of those times.

Everyone has days they feel like this.
I'm having one now.

When presented with healthy and unhealthy food options, I'm choosing the unhealthier ones more often than not.  I can say to myself before making this choice, "Hey, choose the healthier thing.  It may not be the party in your mouth that the grilled cheese sandwich is, but ultimately it's going to give you more peace of mind and fuel for your body than the texas toast and 3 kinds of cheese are."  And yet, I still choose the comforting flavor fiesta instead of what my rational mind KNOWS will make me feel better.  It doesn't make me a horrible person, it makes me human, but it also makes me feel a bit powerless.

One of the turning points in my recovery was when my doctor told me that my eating disorder was not THE issue, the eating disorder was A symptom.  When you're in the bathroom throwing up your food multiple times a day this sounds like, pardon my french, a crock of shit.  It took me a few years to figure it out but the day I finally understood what my doctor was talking about was a day I felt like the universe literally got in my face and shouted "EUREKA!"  It changed my life.

What does that have to do with what I'm feeling right now?  It means I need to dig deeper than just "I'm having a fat day," and figure out what's bothering me.  There is something going on inside that is bigger than "stop eating Cadbury mini eggs."  I'm unhappy or worried about something that I haven't addressed.  Maybe because I can't identify it yet, maybe because I don't want to, but knowing that I need to figure out the issue is what separates "recovered me" from "eating disordered me."

This post may be a bit Debbie Downer-ish, but I thought it was an important one to share.

I'd rather be honest than perfect.