The most powerful therapy session I had during my time at Renfrew occurred during this third week. It was called a structured eating session. My therapist asked me to give her a list of three fear foods of mine, and she would pick one to bring in, and we would have a therapy session specifically around that food. I wasn’t too sure about this initially, but as I think about it now, it was an amazing session. I chose as my fear food a Hershey’s Cookies & Cream bar. Dessert foods were definitely fear foods for me. To start, my therapist took the candy bar out of her drawer and just set it on her desk. We talked about what feelings were coming up for me, and she gradually moved the candy bar towards me. In the meantime, she also had the same candy bar for herself, and she began to eat it. I had the option of eating or not eating mine. I finally held the candy bar as we continued to talk. It was amazing how I gradually became angry at the candy bar—or so it seemed. I definitely was projecting my anger onto the candy bar just as I’d been projecting so many other feelings onto food. I felt my anger and frustration build as well as my heartbeat. At the end of the session, my therapist asked me what I wanted to do with the candy bar. My eating disorder side wanted to chuck it into the trash. If the window had been open, I might have thrown it out. Instead, I placed it safely on top of a pillow. I believe my small rational side made that choice, and I believe that my decision to place it on the pillow was to show respect for that rationality even though my eating disordered side felt much stronger.
One of the main threads in the session seemed to be purpose: purpose of the food, purpose of my eating disorder, purpose of my life, and purpose of me as an individual. I feel like everything I do should serve some sort of purpose that does not include the purpose of enjoyment. In many ways, the eating disorder is a form of self-punishment.
I was struck at how I had more desire to eat the candy bar when it was first shown to me than I did by the end of the session. My anger at the candy bar definitely seemed to increase as the session went on.
I’ve always seemed to struggle with showing my emotions to others. The eating disorder definitely seemed to dull my emotions. During my stay at Renfrew and definitely before I went there, I’d not felt able to access any real emotions. I think I’d developed the belief that showing emotions is a weakness while holding them inside is a strength. This idea became another thread in the session. I was amazed at how my therapist was able to sit in the session and so easily, effortlessly, and seemingly quickly eat her candy bar. I felt empowered over her in one respect because I was able to resist mine. I saw myself on one level as having more willpower than her. I could parallel this with my thoughts that those who show their emotions (those who eat the candy bar) are weak, while those who restrain their emotions (those who resist the candy bar) are strong. Rationally, I know the reverse is true.
What does recovery mean? Each of us must define that for ourselves. To me, recovery in a rational sense means that my thoughts and actions have shifted toward a healthier lifestyle. It doesn’t mean I’m striving for perfection because that would not be authentic. To be in recovery means to be authentic—true in the moment. It means beginning to believe that I am enough just as I am, without my eating disorder. It is recognizing the lies that I believe about myself and taking steps to change them into believable truths. Recovery does not mean keeping a meal plan perfectly. It does not mean that I no longer struggle. It is recognizing that I can make healthy or unhealthy choices and being able to answer the question, “What is the next best thing I can do for myself in this moment?”
I believe that one of the most difficult things to do in recovery is to put ourselves first. A person struggling with an eating disorder typically will put every person or thing he or she can find in front of him or herself. I have done this consistently throughout my life, even before my eating disorder revealed itself. As a teenager, I obsessed about pleasing my parents. Subconsciously, it was more important to me that they be happy than it was for me to be happy. When Matt struggled with depression, I would have sacrificed almost anything, including