Binge eating disorder is when you use food as a coping mechanism, and it becomes an addiction. It's about emotional eating, and yo-yo dieting, (so there's a restrictive side to it as well.) The biggest difference between it, and bulimia, is that you don't purge. For many years, it was lumped with the other "extra" eating disorders in the DSM under Eating Disorder NOS, (which means Not Otherwise Specified.) In the DSM 5, it finally got its own category. You might be thinking- "well, shit, food is MY vice too, I overindulge sometimes and use it as a reward, or to numb my feelings." And you could be right. 90% of us have disordered eating; but only 10% of those have an eating disorder. Congrats if you're part of the 10% minority of Americans who eat completely normally. It's tough in our society- where we're bombarded with unrealistic appearance expectations by the media and social media. Then- (as a double whammy;) we may live in a food desert where the less nutritious options are the cheapest and most readily available (or only available option.)
What determines whether you have an eating disorder is the extent to which your maladaptive habits are affecting your day-to-day life. Similarly, with autism, I see people erroneously make statements like- "everyone's a little bit autistic." This statement is actually very harmful and invalidating of a disabled individual's lived experience. Sure, you might resonate with some of the symptoms, but how much is it affecting your day-to-day experience? That determines whether or not you are actually autistic.
Anyway, my eating disorder was caused by a combination of things. Ballet was perhaps the largest culprit, followed by my home life, and we can certainly place the blame on American culture in the 90s, as well. I was always the "fat girl" in my ballet class. Call it genetics- but my flat feet and overly muscular frame were NOT ideal for ballet. And when you're a teenager, and you spend hours every day staring at your body in floor to ceiling mirrors, comparing yourself to the perfectly beautiful skinny girls, it's going to cause some long-lasting emotional damage. Add to that- I had a dance teacher actually pull me aside at age fifteen and tell me to lose weight. Bro- do you think I didn't know that I needed to lose weight!? Do you think I hadn't tried ridiculous grapefruit diets with my friend Kelly, while we obsessed over our inner thighs and did my mom's old Jazzercise videos wrapped in trash bags like Bradley Cooper in Silver Linings Playbook?
I suppose it's ironic that all of this just led me to eat more. Although what it actually led me to do was to starve myself. I didn't eat breakfast or lunch or even dinner most school days. And I wasn't being supervised. I was supposed to make myself cereal or toast for breakfast every day (gross.) And pack my own lunch (never going to happen.) And there just wasn't time for dinner in between my multiple dance classes and rehearsal for whatever community theatre show I happened to be engaged in at the time. Some days I couldn't make it through without any food, so I scrounged for scraps from various friends. What ended up happening as a result of this "diet," was that I was so hungry by the time I got home- that I entered into hardcore survival mode. I would think- "what is the worst possible thing I can eat right now?" Because my body was craving a quick fix of fat, sugar, carbs- anything quick acting. (Unfortunately, we never really had anything fun to eat in my house. And by fun- I mean satisfying junk food.) So I ate a lot of dry tortillas microwaved with margarine inside. (Barf.) One time we had a Costco-sized box of Hersheys bars set aside for a camping trip (saved for s'mores) that I definitely wasn't supposed to be eating. I remember dipping those in peanut butter.
There was a lot of forbidden food in my house. It was earmarked for my mom's fifth grade class, so we weren't supposed to touch it. I would sneak small quantities of pre-made cookie dough from the bucket in which she made cookies for her class. My siblings and I definitely resented that the kids in her class got all of the fun food. Because there was never anything fun to eat in our house- I had this irrational feeling of regret. Regret that I didn't eat ONE MORE brownie at the church potluck when I had the chance. (As if eating fun food THEN, could somehow bank it for later.) I wonder if that's how the contestants on Survivor feel when they win a food reward.
I had a friend who grew up in a completely opposite environment explain how there was always a cake on their counter at home because their mother was always baking. As a result, they never craved sweets or cared about eating them. Nowadays, I've adopted some similar weird habits around food. I need to be surrounded by an abundance of fun food. And here's the weird part- as long as it's readily available to me, I don't eat it. Like my friend with the cake on the counter- I might have one piece initially, but after that, I'm just not interested. And neither are my kids. They don't like juice (unless it's Honest Kids,) candy, soda, or desserts. With the exception of chocolate ice cream, they don't want sugar. Probably because they're allowed to have it. (Kofi also enjoys cookies, but only Oreos and chocolate chip.) (Lyra also enjoys Hersheys bars, but nothing else- so they surrender all of their Halloween candy to me. They don't want it- they just enjoy the act of trick-or-treating.)
This doesn't mean my kids are perfect. Far from it- Lyra was diagnosed with ARFID at a young age and vacillates between 20-40 safe foods. For different reasons than me; she also tends to binge at night. And because of her proprioception issues, it's difficult for her to feel hunger and fullness cues. As an eating disorder survivor, it's a minefield for me to navigate this with her. I've always believed in, and allowed my children to eat intuitively, but this has probably been a disservice to Lyra, because she CAN'T really eat intuitively. So here we are- just struggling along, going to feeding therapy, and trying to do our best. (Don't worry, both of my kids are already in therapy, so they have a nice head start on working through all of the ways their parents screwed them up.)
I didn't discover my eating disorder until well into adulthood. I was 31- Max was attending law school at the U of Chicago, and he had a benefit where I qualified for 10 free sessions of therapy on campus. (This was also a benefit I tried to utilize at UNLV as a student. I attended my initial therapy intake session. They asked me what three issues I thought I needed to work on, and I immediately burst into tears. So they determined that I qualified for the ten-week session. But I never went back.) This time, at the U of C, I DID go back. (I still cried through all of the sessions, though, because I find therapy to be very vulnerability-inducing, and just the act of being there produces a waterworks effect that honestly, is pretty embarrassing.)
Ironically, the only reason I even went to therapy in the first place was because of my pursuit for perfection. If that's not being DEEP in your eating disorder- then I don't know what is... Eating disorders feed off of perfectionists. I didn't really think there was anything wrong with me. I believed therapy could benefit anyone and everyone (I still believe this.) What was the harm in getting a professional, outside, third-party perspective on my life from somewhat that wasn't invested- (unlike family or friends?) I figured I could polish up some inner work- and it was free- so why not?
My therapist sucked- she spent most of the sessions talking about her five airedales. (Who has FIVE airedales? But crazy people become therapists, cuz they want to help other crazy people. Most of my eating disorder therapists are people that have recovered from eating disorders themselves.) HOWEVER, she did the most important thing- which was refer me to the eating disorder clinic at the conclusion of our ten-week session. I remember staring at her like- "Bitch, what!? I have an eating disorder!?"
So I took my referral and did an intake at Insight- where they enrolled me in an intensive outpatient program for Binge Eating Disorder (we'll refer to it as BED from now on.) My face was like the mind-blown emoji. I was now attending a BED group therapy session that lasted three hours, three times a week, plus going to an hour of individual therapy. (That's ten hours of therapy a week, y'all.) Eventually my individual therapist (disclaimer- I've had ten therapists in ten years, and she's the best one I've ever had.) diagnosed me with depression and OCD in addition to BED. Having all of these mental health diagnoses really blew my mind. I was like- "but I thought I was happy, I thought I had a great childhood, I was just doing therapy for fun..." Talk about denial, and living the unexamined life.
A few weeks after that, she broached the topic of medication, to help me deal with my "overwhelming emotions." I was SCARED, and I did NOT want to go down that route. As a working actress, I needed to be able to access those emotions, and be able to cry on command. So I pushed back. But at the end of the day, I trusted my therapist, so I started working with a psychiatrist once a week as well. I shit you not when I tell you that taking psych meds might be the best decision I've ever made in my life, and I will never go off of them.
When I was trying to get pregnant with Lyra, I told my psychiatrist I wanted to go off of them, and I'll never forget what she told me- "for some people- taking antidepressants is like taking a daily vitamin, you're just filling in the gap for what your brain doesn't produce naturally." We worked out a plan where we weaned off of all the meds except Prozac, which we halved the dosage and decided to stay on the half dose throughout my pregnancy, determining that the benefits outweighed the risks. When I tell you that I was so ready to get back to my full med regime after I was done breastfeeding Kofi, I was READY. I hate how there's a stigma around pharmaceuticals, and everyone's goal is always to get off of them. Get on them- and stay on them- for life- I say. My meds are the best, and I love them.
Sometimes when something is working (like vaccines,) people decide they don't need it anymore (like their meds.) That's exactly when you DO need it, because it's proof that it's working so well. Don't change something that's working so well. Keep that winning combo.
Besides my meds, my favorite part of the program was the friends I made. Because we spent an hour of group (three times a week) just processing our feelings and experiences- we learned some deep, dark, shit about each other. You can't get that vulnerable without creating a deep bond. Those are friends for life, even though it's not always easy to keep in touch since we've all scattered and moved to various locales across the US. Those are my girls- and I'll never forget the baby shower they threw for me when I was pregnant with Lyra, it was so special. (They were also the first people I ever smoked pot with- ha ha.)
So how DID I recover? Was it all of this amazing therapy? When Max and I moved from Chicago to Seattle, I was referred to a new clinic- called The Emily Program (basically the same thing as Insight.) My new therapist had actually transferred there from Insight as well, and was friends with my old therapist (she was great, too.) So I was there while I was pregnant with Lyra-and I joined a new therapy group.
But it was Lyra herself who healed me. It didn't happen while I was pregnant, but the moment she was born, it became crystal clear to me that this was NOT the life I wanted for her. I never wanted Lyra to feel about her body, the way I had felt about mine. I would not pass my eating disorder down to her (as I believe mine was passed down to me, to some extent.) I would become a cycle-breaker. She would never hear a negative word about myself come from my lips- I was going to be a better role model than that for her. (It's been a decade, and I believe I've kept that promise...)
She'll ask about my stretch marks and I'll tell her they're beautiful, metallic, tiger stripes that you earn for being fierce- for conquering challenges- like growing up through your teen years, or having babies. She'll probably get some too, if she's lucky. She asks this because we walked around the house naked a lot when the kids were young, so that everyone would feel comfortable and not shameful about their bodies. (Now that we're a little bit older, Kofi has decided that she doesn't consent to that, so we wear bras and undies. Lyra doesn't love that, because she doesn't love the sensory experience of wearing clothes at home. But we also talk about how important consent is.)
We don't believe food has moral value in our household. There are no "good" or "bad" foods, no "healthy" or "unhealthy" foods. Both broccoli and ice cream are valuable foods. Too much broccoli can cause bloating and uncomfortable stomach cramps. Too much ice cream can also cause a sugar overdose and a tummy ache. On the other hand- broccoli has amazing nutritional value, vitamins that fight cancer, etc. And ice cream provides calcium, fat, and satisfaction. Both foods can be absolutely delicious. All things in moderation. We believe all bodies are good bodies, and we don't talk about other people's bodies.
It's not perfect- I worry about Lyra being enrolled in ballet, and staring into those same mirrors... Her body is larger-sized compared to the other girls, just like mine was. At age ten, she doesn't seem to notice. But she loves ballet, so I wouldn't want to take that joy away from her. She's in the safest of possible studios. Honestly, though, if I had known she was going to stick with it, I probably never would've had her take class with my friend, Cheryl, at age 2. Luckily she's not on a track to take it seriously, like I did. And she has healthy self-esteem and believes she's beautiful (she better- cuz she IS.) But of course, I worry about the natural consequences of being a teenager in a social media era. She's a late bloomer, and young for her age, so we're just putting off the inevitable for as long as possible- (getting her a phone- ha ha.)
So that's the tale of how I had an eating disorder for half of my life, lived the unexamined life, then my daughter saved my life, and I've had a decades' worth of therapy to learn better coping strategies. I'm now recovered from said eating disorder. After gaining weight from child birth, and radically accepting it, because a woman's body and weight fluctuates throughout her life, I was recently required to lose weight medically. This was a daunting task, and because of my past, I was nervous about being triggered, so I put it off for a couple of years. But because my dad died of a heart attack at age 52, it became imperative for me to take care of it. I'm happy to say that through the help of an entire team of doctors, the whole experience has been really positive (other than the outside judgment,) and THIS story of my weight loss has nothing to do with having an eating disorder, for the first time ever, and that's really exciting. Which is why it's so frustrating to not to be able to celebrate it without outside opinions interfering. Hopefully this very long post better explains why I WENT OFF in my last post. Namaste.
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