I admire pro-recovery bloggers who bear their new bodies with bravery and courage on social media. And while I'm not there yet (and may never be there, as I'm not sure this is entirely the path for me), I want to put some fear into myself and hold myself to some kind of vulnerable accountability.
I constantly need to remind myself that it's good that I have more to my body now because it's really important for protecting my organs and insulating my body and that it needs to be there, especially for women. Knowing these scientific truths help keep the eating disorder voices at bay. I remember vividly the feelings of being cold all the time, the weakness, the lack of energy, the lack of focus, and all the other symptoms that took me away from living my life. Going back to that would be like walking back into a nightmare.
I'm eating better now, haven't checked my weight in about two years, and work out consistently enough, but I still have to make sure that my eating disorder voice doesn't take up too much space at the table, that it's not pumped up by the ignorant comments I receive from family members and strangers about how I look "different" now (ie, not stick-thin). Now that I have more fat on my body, more curves that are accentuated, more strength, more muscles, there is a certain nostalgia and impatience within me for my illness that belies all of this progress.
And although sometimes I want to engage in my behaviours to make myself look as skinny as I once did, I know that I can't do that because the fear of being skinny but weak is much stronger than being half-dead in my bed again, looking "acceptable" to this society, while feeling my body disintegrating at the same time (even though my anorexia did not initially start from a traumatic experience regarding being skinny and body-image issues; those particular things became intertwined with the atypical anorexic trauma I received). And that's a place I desperately don't want to go back to.
So accepting this new body and getting used to it is a challenge. I have to be careful with how I speak about and to myself because I know that my body is always listening. But it would be a lie if I said that I'm always positive and accepting of these changes. I'm not. It's hard. And I feel bad about the feelings I have towards my new body sometimes. I try to be compassionate as much as I can towards myself, but that's a challenge. I am proud of myself for constantly trying though.
And although I'm also proud of myself for recovering, becoming physically, mentally and emotionally stronger, and being able to keep up with my recovered eating as much as I can, I still find myself comparing my new body to other women, labeling them as more beautiful than I am, more worthy as I am, more deserving. I'm aware that I don't look as youthful as I once did (even though I'm only 26) and that makes me feel like my time has passed to be of any real worth.
And what is worth anyways, and where do we think it comes from? To be brutally honest, speaking from a woman's perspective, our worth is so tied up into the very existence of our bodies and if we receive any male/sexual attention over it. As someone trying to navigate these perilous waters of where my worth comes from, what it consists of and who is the final authority of issuing it while simultaneously trying to make my heart whole again, this is something I am trying to unravel within myself (due to years of being sexually abused, harassed and dating abusive men). Because at the end of the day, I know that only I am in charge of issuing my own worth, male attention be damned. I am in charge of how I perceive myself, for I cannot change the perspectives of others and I cannot will others to accept me. My responsibility in this life is to learn to accept myself and to love my body as it is, healthy or not. At some point, we have to be responsible towards ourselves and for women, I feel that is immensely true. We can't excuse the actions of others, nor should we, but at some point, I think it's important we begin to craft our own futures with the materials that life has given us, even if those materials are created from pain, trauma and abuse.
So although I'm sharing this image of me from this morning, I know it's still doctored in a way because I'm not yet at that stage of sharing myself fully. I still feel the need to hide what I think are flaws, while trying to convince myself that they're not. That I need to look a certain way, pose a certain way, to be valued. I see the aspects of this photo that catch attention, but I also see those aspects that hide the whole story.
I have always resonated with this marvelous quote from Anaïs Nin, it is something I am keeping in mind as I carry on through my life:
“My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to find peace with exactly who and what I am. To take pride in my thoughts, my appearance, my talents, my flaws and to stop this incessant worrying that I can’t be loved as I am.”
