Every time NEDAwareness Week rolls around, I wish I could come up with something profound or at least helpful to say. Most of the time, I'm not sure how to go about it. Mary Cain had some good advice about being patient and kind to yourself no matter where you are on your journey. Amelia Boone shared some personal experiences about her journey, and then there are the warriors who make sharing recovery information and encouraging others part of their everyday world, people like Jason Wood, Rachael Steil, Dr. Paula Quatromoni, DSc RD, and Molly Fenning. All of these individuals above and many others, too, have shared important messages about recovery, not because they want attention on social media but because they actually care and want to help others. It's easy for some to post a quick reference to the event during this week of recovery awareness or in relation to some incident only to forget about it later like many people do, but people who fight to raise awareness past just this one week are individuals to be admired.
Probably the biggest lesson I can share about recovery is that it's not perfect. There are a lot of ups and downs along the way, and it's a unique experience for any individual who is committed to the process.
When I gave a speech about recovery a few years ago, the day of the event happened to coincide with a rough patch I was navigating. There are times when the last thing I want to do is be in public, and the night I was speaking was one of them. In the throes of my illness, I might have found a way to bail on the event, but, then again, I probably wouldn't have been asked to speak when I was so sick. Part of recovery means showing up or at least having the option to, so show up I did. And I talked about it, how I wasn't feeling all that great emotionally, and how that's OK. I actually spend a lot of my life in this state of not feeling all that that great in one way or another, about life, about myself, about the world in general. Considering world events, I'm sure I'm not alone in that last one right now. These are unsettling times.
Recovery doesn't guarantee happiness or success, and it doesn't change who you are at your core. If you tend toward depression and always have, recovery by itself doesn't change that, but that doesn't mean getting better isn't worth the effort. It is, a million times over it is. There's a reason why people insist that their worst days in recovery are better than their best days in the throes of illness. What recovery does is open the door to something different, a chance at life and a chance to be more present. You have more options in recovery and the opportunity to feel, even though feelings can be uncomfortable.
I agree with Mary when she suggests being kind to yourself. Recovery can benefit from some tough love, too, though. Sometimes, you have to push yourself outside of your comfort zone in order to keep on your journey, but you can do that and not be overly harsh with or downright mean to yourself. These are such complex illnesses. There's no one right way to recover.
Recently, Kara Goucher shared a heartfelt post about a condition she has been dealing with that was diagnosed as repetitive exercise dystonia. It brought up some questions about identity and how to navigate in the world once a title you have come accustomed to holding slips away or drastically changes. Given her many talents and the person she is, in Kara's case, her identity as an exceptional runner is just one small part of her makeup, but I feel so deeply for her and her situation.
It has been years, so many I have lost count, since I was a competitive runner. Looking back on that time, it was just a tiny blip in terms of my overall time on this planet, and yet I had always and maybe sort of still think of myself as a runner. Even though I'm unable to actually run much and running is awkward and painful now, the whopping 10 minutes I've been able to sort of manage, I can't help but remember, sometimes fondly, all the miles I've logged, all the races, roads, and trails I've run. It will always be a part of who I am, even now that my body no longer allows me to move as the athlete I once was.
But it's hard, giving up that part of me. I think anyone who once loved running or was good at it or both can understand how difficult it is when your body no longer cooperates. It's a loss, not that different from losing a loved one or friend.
Ideally, NEDAwareness Week is designed to encourage people struggling to reach out, educate others, and help create safe spaces for anyone struggling. If you or anyone you know is suffering from an eating disorder, NEDA offers some great resources and support. It helps so much to know you're not alone in this.
