Imagine this scene. A family sits down to a meal, it is Friday pizza night. The table is set and everyone is gathering around now. There is a light chatter and the ever slight sound of dishes clinking and clanking against each other. Everyone begins to eat, that is all except one. This individual is staring at their plate, honed in to their thoughts. The dad speaks, "Just eat." The individual lost in thought then comes back to reality with a smile and partakes in the family meal. All was fine, just a bit distracted. Okay, okay... that does not really happen. Well at least not for those of us who deal with an eating disorder.
It is more like this: Heart racing, palms sweating, a restless fidgeting overwhelms the body and sends all sensations swirling. The eyes are closed, as they try to envision a safer place. The body then begins to ever so slightly rock back and forth. Then the words are uttered by another, "Just eat." Those two words, that poignant yet potent phrase penetrates the ears of the one struggling to catch their breaths. Now take a look into their mind, "How can I eat this in a way that I can purge it later? How many calories does the cheese and meat add to this? Maybe if I pick everything off... but the bread, how can I afford that many carbs? I do not deserve this slice of pizza. I cannot take up this much space, I have to become smaller. Maybe if I say I am feeling sick or I already ate, I can excuse myself from the table. I am so stupid for having these thoughts, what is wrong with me?! I am just worthless, I knew I should have worked out earlier. How do I escape this moment?" This is my reality at nearly every meal.
Eating disorders are a complicated feat to understand if you have not lived with one. He (ED, personifying the eating disorder), starts out as a small whisper, a thought that pops into your mind. It could be as mindless as, “I wish I could lose a few extra pounds.” Or something to the tune of, “That outfit looks really great on them, I wish I could look as confident as they are.” Maybe the sly fox nags at you after you finish a meal, “I ate way too much, I feel uncomfortable.” Perhaps the fleeting thought may be “Hmmm, I really shouldn’t eat that cookie, I have already had too many calories today.”
ED starts out innocently, but then he evolves into a monstrous creature. The thoughts turn from “I wish I could lose a few pounds” to a maleficent river of “I should become so small that I disappear.” Noticing the way a certain outfit hangs on another individual quickly becomes comparing their bones to your own, hoping that yours will protrude more. That distinction then influences every outfit choice you create.
Thinking, “I ate too much” turns into, “I cannot feel full, I ate way too much food. Now I have to purge this food because I feel ashamed. I must punish myself for crime of feeding myself.” And finally, a passing thought debating whether or not you can partake of a dessert, becomes a contentious misery of obsessively counting and memorizing calories. One does not feel worthy enough to eat the dessert, because the repercussions might be gaining weight or worse... taking up more space than deserved. As one survivor put it, eating disorders are “an evolving beast”.
With all of this taken into consideration, it is equally as frustrating for those of us who are transfixed by ED to hear comments or remarks that are belittling to our current anguish. One such phrase is, “Why can’t you just eat?” which feels like gross misunderstanding that morphs into an accusation. This question is not only invalidating, but it also can deplete the energy from the person who is struggling to complete their meal.
Throwing this question in the face of the individual is equivalent to pouring salt in the theoretical wound. While it may not have been intended to cause damage, it truly does abrogate the feelings of the one struggling in a way that may be perceived as condescending. It belittles the situation, and give ED more power. If it were as simple as eating a cheeseburger or taking a slice of pizza, I am sure people would have done that by now and this dreadful condition would be eradicated.
Instead of asking that question, might I suggest the following? Engage with the person, offer them distraction. ED is screaming loudly in their head and a conversation about their day might be a welcomed relief from the negative self-talk swirling in their head. Also, do not be the food police, rather do not comment on what we are or are not eating. Recovery is in our hands. With each bite we are sticking it to ED, so let us go at our own pace. Lastly, be patient with us. Recovery is a process. It will not be fixed by one certain meal or food group. So the next time you want to say something in frustration and concern, take a breath and consider the options. We are trying our best, which happens one breath, one bite, one day at a time. We are brave people facing our demons by eating. Each day we wield our sword, I mean fork, in opposition to the enemy.
Comments