One of the paradoxes of anorexia is that the restrictive rules and habits it entails are typically done day after day because the sufferer believes it is the only way to feel 'safe'. Even as these behaviours become more and more oppressive, they have to be done in order to feel anywhere near comfortable. The trouble is, life doesn't recognise this and when this delicate framework of living is struck, it doesn't just wobble, it all comes crashing down like a pack of cards. As it did to me last week...
I've mentioned before that part of my recovery had to include developing a better approach to exercise. I really do struggle with this, as I find it all too easy to let my workout schedule snowball out of control.... The trouble is, the only way to improve your fitness is to challenge yourself, and push yourself a little bit harder. So if I do a slightly more intense workout one week, I soon feel that this has to be my 'new' workout and that to revert to the original at any time would be to 'make it easy' for myself.
Similarly, I have to be disciplined about taking designated days off because if I don't do this for whatever reason one week, then it soon becomes 'normal' to not have a rest day - suddenly to go just one day without working out is lazy and would thus be a source of guilt and shame. Oh dear...there is a reason why God ordained the Sabbath as a day of rest!
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| Object of my obsessions... |
It seems I have a special ( if somewhat useless and self destructive) talent for turning something into an obsession. The latest one began when the Spin bikes in the gym were upgraded . I liked the new models at first - a sleek, red and black design - but unfortunately each one now had a computer screen which informs you how many calories you are burning. At first I used to just note the total figure down out of curiosity ( I know these things aren't 100% accurate but I reasoned that, as long as the settings were the same, I could use it to compare the intensities of different workouts, and see which instructors gave the 'best value'). But this opened the door for an insidious anxiety to develop...Soon I would be disappointed if I didn't burn XXX number of calories after each session. I worked out the average number of calories I would have to burn each minute to reach this target and so would always have my eye on the dial, constantly checking, not able to lose myself with the music and rhythm of movement. If I still wasn't satisfied at the end of the session, I would carry on a bit longer, whilst the rest of the group were cooling down. And of course, the target was always moving, getting higher and higher as I became obsessed with reaching higher numbers. There was no leeway or room for error; as soon as I got on the bike, I had to start pumping away, to make the numbers start climbing...
So there I was, caught in my trap : as long as the numbers added up, I could feel safe and would be able to eat without worrying too much that day. Never mind that it made me dread my workouts and I had lost any joy there was in the sessions. And of course, something happened to throw a spanner in the works and it all came falling down...
One day I climbed aboard and just COULDN'T get the pedals to move like I used to. I couldn't get the calorie counter high enough, I wasn't going to make my target and I began to panic - if I don't make the target, then I won't have worked hard enough, I will feel guilty and lazy and how can I eat then???! I tried and tried to push the pedals faster but the numbers obstinately wouldn't budge. I broke down and burst into tears making myself completely unable to do anything, let alone an hour of climbs, sprints and intervals. Goodness knows what everyone else thought - that someone had dies perhaps. The instructor managed to calm me down but I was almost too ashamed to admit what the problem was. She understood enough though, and told me that an engineer had been servicing the bikes earlier in the week and it is likely that he tightened the resistances on all of them.
In the end I managed to complete the session, judging how hard I was working by how much I sweated and the intensity I felt in my legs. How I used to do spin, in other words, on the old bikes.
But it's an illustration in how focused my life is on numbers ( calories, weights, times, etc) and how this is stealing any REAL feeling of being alive....I don't know if I can ever get to a state where I don't particularly care about what the numbers on the scale are as long as I feel strong and my body is able to do all that I threw at it in the course of a busy, fulfilled life. Instead, I have been given a target weight to go back to university and I am determined in my mind to not 'exceed' the target : I will do what I need to, but no more. Imagine if I actually let my body decide what was the best weight for me, and let the numbers go?
I don't know if I'm strong enough for that but this recovery at least has to involve me building a relationship with my body again, to replace a fixation on numbers.
I wonder what numbers are the bane of other people's existence?
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