much I played into the invisibility mechanism by accepting their unspoken communication: “Don't see me.”
Recovery involves becoming visible, ending isolation, and coming out from behind a barrier that protects you from exposure, criticism, reality, friends, opportunities, love, and hope—a barrier that blocks you from life itself.
Another warning sign of an eating disorder is striving for perfection. I'm not referring to the perfection a scientist seeks in conducting valid and reliable research. I mean the kind of perfection where you need to have the perfect body and are miserable and self-critical if you fall short; where you need to create the perfect environment or be the perfect person at your job, at school, or in your family and feel an inner disaster if you fall short. If you can't focus on a relationship, a conversation, or an activity because your mind is busy figuring out ways to make something in your life perfect, you are experiencing warning signs of an eating disorder.
Recovery involves becoming visible, ending isolation, and coming out from behind a barrier that blocks you from life itself.
Why? What is it about perfection? Why is a bulimic woman merciless in her self-criticism? Why is an anorexic woman so driven to be perfect she is willing to face death? Why do women who binge or eat compulsively feel so removed from acceptability and standards of perfection that they numb themselves to emotional pain and function tangentially in the world as they attempt to be unseen?
Perfection is the ultimate safety. When anything is perfect, it is beyond criticism, beyond judgment. But perfection, for us mortals, is impossible to achieve. In Greek mythology, whenever a mortal attempted to achieve the status of a god or even one quality of a god, the mortal was cursed and went mad or died. The lesson: Humans aren't designed to be perfect. Perfection is for the gods.
Recovery begins as you venture toward being kind and honest with your genuine, mortal self. You may be ready to be in a room with other people who are working toward recovery, or you may need to be more private as you begin your healing efforts. Respect your feelings. You can begin to move on your healing path through the suggestions in this book—doing affirmations, breathing exercises, and writing in a Recovery Journal. See more specific exercises and activities related to this chapter in Appendix B.
My goal is to help you build a solid recovery, layer by layer. Beginning this journey requires courage. You are changing direction. You are opening your mind and heart to what you don't know yet. Courage and trust are a vital part of recovery work because you don't yet have a backlog of successes on which to build your confidence. You're going on faith, hope, and courage now. Honor and nurture those qualities. Go gently into the unknown, building as you go.
I've described many forms an eating disorder can take, but not all. Yet enough is here to help you see how much of your life and your behaviors are determined by eating or not eating. Please congratulate yourself for staying with this reconnaissance and getting a more thorough sense of where you are and what needs to be addressed to get well. This is a tender time.
Daily Exercises
1 Follow your breath for five minutes at least three times a day.
2 Read or recite your three affirmations twenty times each at least three times a day. See Appendix A, “Affirmations.”
3 Write about one or more of the warning signs discussed in this chapter or a personal experience where you recognized eating disorder signals.
CHAPTER 4
How Do I Begin Recovery?
“What will open the door is daily awareness and attention.”
—Krishnamurti
You've already begun your recovery by picking up this book. Perhaps you are reading it thoroughly, going through each chapter, doing the suggested exercises, and have now come to chapter four. You are on your way.
Perhaps you are standing in a bookstore thumbing through pages and stopped at this chapter. You are reading what I'm writing right now. I'm thinking about you and imagining you as you stand in the aisle or sit in one of those hard-to-find cushy chairs against the wall. You want recovery. Maybe you are holding this book carefully so no one can see the title. Recovery seems secretive, magical, out of reach, mysterious, and impossible because you've tried many times and failed.
Wherever you are right now, if you can see these words, you are looking for your beginning place. The good news is that you can begin any time, at any stage in your life, and in any situation or circumstance.
I wish I could help you take a breath or jump up and down with you and shout to the world, “I don't care what anyone thinks. I don't care about your judgments. I have an eating disorder. I will do whatever it takes to recover, and I don't care who knows it!”
That kind of verve will come after some progress in your recovery work. You begin at your beginning. I've often wondered where my beginning place was. I've had many that qualify.
When I was still immersed in my secret bulimic way of living I attended a small dinner party at the home of my close friends, Lars and Ingeborg. As I mentioned earlier, that night I met a recovering alcoholic psychiatrist I'll call Michael, who invited me to lead a guided imagery session, my specialty at the time, with his alcoholic patients.
I said I didn't know if I could because I didn't know anything about alcoholics. I didn't know yet that I had had a long relationship with an alcoholic, or that some aspects of my bulimia had a great deal in common with alcoholism.
Michael took me to my first AA meeting. I listened to one young man open his heart and with raw honesty describe his daily physical and emotional life as an alcoholic. I was stunned as, for the first time, I heard my secret life described in detail. My life was exactly like his except my issue was food, not alcohol.
I said nothing to Michael but ventured into Overeaters Anonymous where, another first for me, I met a woman who was bulimic and told me so. This was another staggering experience. I whispered to her that I was, too. She nodded and swept away, but I didn't feel rejected. I felt amazed that I wasn't the only one and that I could speak of it.
I started psychotherapy. My clinical supervisor, Hedda Bolgar, agreed to accept me as her patient. I moved through massive fear to tell her I was bulimic. I was prepared for her to reject me and also tell me I could no longer be a psychotherapist. But her face was kind as she welcomed me and we began our journey.
At a private dinner I confessed to Michael that I was bulimic and starting recovery. I expected to see revulsion on his face. Instead, he smiled and wept. He put his hands together in a silent prayer and said, “It's God's grace.” He said my new beginning reinforced his own recovery. I cried too.
A few days later I spent a long Sunday with Lars and Ingeborg, who had given the dinner party where I met Michael. Finally, at a table in a darkened restaurant, I mustered enough courage to tell them I was bulimic. Ingeborg looked blank and asked me what that was. I breathed deeply and described my secret life. She took my hands in hers and said, “We love you, Joanna. How sad for you.” Lars smiled a little smile and said, “Joanna, you are the most interesting person.”
Was this my starting point? I certainly thought so. But I had already chosen these people to be in my life. I created
