Tag: mental health

A Call for Responsible Content

by Alexis Fairbanks, posted in eating disorders

“Weighing yourself is a disordered and ineffective coping strategy for managing the anxiety you feel about your body”. -Emily Fonnesbeck, RD

When I was younger, I lived on the scale. I’d wake up in the morning and weigh myself before I even brushed my teeth. Stepping on the scale was the very first thing I would think of each day. That wasn’t the only time I’d weigh myself, either. I’d weigh myself before I showered and after, before and after I ate or went for a run, and then I’d weigh myself before bed. I probably weighed myself at least three times a day and I’m sure there were days I weighed myself as many as six or seven times. I weighed myself constantly in hopes of seeing a smaller, more acceptable number. There was always a number in my head, a goal I was striving for, and I thought if I ever saw that number, it could all stop. I thought if the number was small enough, I could give myself permission to stop obsessively weighing myself, stop counting calories, stop cutting out food groups and skipping meals, and stop punishing myself when I slipped up and ate something “bad”. I thought that if I reached the right number on the scale, I could let go of all my stress and anxiety around food and my body and I would finally be happy. Now I know how wrong that was. The number on the scale was never going to bring me happiness.

The scale, and the number on it, controlled me. No matter how much I weighed, I’d convince myself I needed to weigh less. As long as I was weighing myself, I was bound to a number that was certain to make me unhappy. 

If at 16 or 18 or 20, I saw an image of an elite runner standing on a scale and I could see her weight, I have no doubt I would I have been devastated. The eating disorder and body dysmorphia I was already struggling with would have been intensified in an instant. This is why now, a few years wiser and more recovered from my eating disorder, when I see an elite runner who has built a platform as a body acceptance advocate share an image of herself on a scale where you can easily see her weight, I feel a strong responsibility to speak out.

You can promote body acceptance or advertise for a scale. You can’t do both. 

I feel extremely grateful to say that I am no longer triggered when I see someone else’s weight, but I know how deeply this can impact others, especially vulnerable young women and girls, because I’ve been there. If you gain popularity and a platform by speaking out against the idea that you need to be rail thin to be fast, then you have a responsibility to your supporters to use that platform wisely. If you create a message intended to help a following of vulnerable young women and girls, you owe it to those followers to not promote messages or products that can lead directly to harmful thinking and behaviors.

When speaking out against this athlete’s promotion of a scale and the carelessness of posting her weight, I received a lot of criticism. I was told that in requesting she be more conscious of how sharing her weight can harm her followers, I was being controlling. I was told that it’s unreasonable to ask people to censor their posts so that others aren’t triggered and that anyone triggered by someone’s weight is “bound to fail”. I was told that I was projecting my own issues onto the post and that if I see this post as negative, I need to take a look in the mirror. I was told that if someone is “that sensitive to the number on a scale, they should be the one to moderate what they ingest”. These comments are so incredibly stigmatizing and it pains me to think about how many people are potentially being hurt by reading them. 

So let’s take a look at some of this criticism. Is it too much to ask someone to censor their posts so that others aren’t triggered? Maybe. But if that person claims they are sharing their journey to help people struggling with body image, I really, really don’t think it is. In fact, I don’t see it as censorship at all. It’s a call to be more responsible, and to stay true to your message. If you want to post numbers like weight and bod pod results, fine, but then you can’t also say you want to help people struggling with body image. Posting those numbers does nothing but harm individuals struggling, along with solidifying the idea that runners have to be lean, and a lower than average weight. Many people make the argument that it’s refreshing to see an athlete that “weighs more than most elites”, but the fact of the matter is, she still weighs far less than the average American woman and sharing her weight opens up a breeding zone for comparison. If you truly want to help people struggling with disordered thoughts and behaviors around food and their body, then refraining from posting your weight shouldn’t be much of an ask. If you truly want to promote body acceptance, be more aware of what triggers body dissatisfaction.

Next, am I projecting “my issues” onto the post? Totally. I’m projecting because I know 30 million people suffer with eating disorders in the US and that eating disorders are the deadliest mental illness. I’m sharing “my issues” with the hope that others struggling with the same thing can see they are not alone. This line of thinking—this “you’re projecting your own issues, look in the mirror”—is why the stigma around eating disorders and mental illness continues to exist. It’s why people continue to suffer in silence.

Now, let’s address the idea that if you’re triggered by a number on a scale it’s your responsibility to moderate the content you ingest. Sure, if you are struggling with an eating disorder or body dysmorphia and you are aware of your illness, it would be in your best interest to moderate what you ingest to the extent that you’re able. But if you’re following a “body positive” account, shouldn’t this content be considered safe? If an account is truly body positive, there won’t be content triggering to those with disordered eating or body image concerns. Anyone working to help individuals who are struggling, and doing a good job of it, is mindful of what they post and any potential harm their words, images, or numbers could cause. Of course, this is all if you already recognize you’re struggling, which most people don’t and in those (read: most) cases, this type of content will just fuel the fire. Again, I know because I’ve been there.

Finally, if you are triggered by a number, be it weight or something else, you are not bound to fail. I’m honestly not sure what the failure we’re referring to here is, but I know you’re not bound for it. If you are triggered by an elite athlete posting their weight there is nothing wrong with you, you are human. (Even if you didn’t feel triggered by it, but feel upset about it like I do, you’re human.) We live in a culture that assigns worth to numbers like size and weight, it’s not at all surprising if seeing these numbers brings you anxiety and stress. These numbers are meaningless in that they don’t actually tell us anything about a person or a person’s health, but unfortunately in our society, they matter a lot. It’s easy to tell someone not to look or not to care about someone else’s weight, but it’s a lot more difficult to actually ignore these numbers in practice, especially if you’re battling a mental illness. If we want to move our society forward in a way that values humans over bodies, the comparison-breeding numbers need to go. 

If you’re following accounts that trigger you or make you feel bad, its OK to unfollow them. Unfollow them even if you think they are *supposed* to be helping you. It’s OK to be skeptical, not every post with #bodypositivity is useful, sometimes it’s just a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You know what’s best for you and if someone is praised for their transparency and bravery but you still find their message triggering, know that your feelings are valid and it’s on them to fix it rather than on you to get over it.

As always, you are not alone and you deserve any help and support you need. You also deserve actual body acceptance, and resources that follow through on helping you with it. 

If you’re struggling with disordered thoughts or behaviors around food, your body, or exercise, help is available. Visit the NEDA Help & Support Page Here or call the NEDA Hotline: (800) 931-2237

Here are a few accounts that I’ve found helpful on my recovery journey! Let me know what accounts you enjoy!

Progress is Not Linear

by Alexis Fairbanks, posted in eating disorders

When a baby learns to walk, she crawls for a while. In time, slowly and with the support of adult hands, she stands up and moves forward. Finally, one day she takes her first steps, free of parental support. But seconds later, she falls. She gets back up, takes a few more steps and inevitably she falls again. This process is repeated over and over and over for months on end, until eventually, she stops falling. As she develops into a young child, her early childhood will be riddled with scrapes and bruises from countless trips and falls. She won’t fall every day, maybe not even every week, but she will still fall until at some point in her life, she will stop falling almost completely. Even as an adult however, there will be a fall from time to time, whether it’s tripping over a root or falling over a shadow. Even every adult falls.

Progress is never linear.

Eating disorder recovery is a lot like learning to walk. It starts slow and choppy, and you may feel like you’re failing most of the time. But overtime with commitment and support, it slowly becomes easier and more consistent. No one masters eating disorder recovery in a day (or month, or year). Eating disorder recovery is a long and challenging process. Even when you think you’ve got it down, like an adult surprised by a fall, you will hit a bump in the road.

This isn’t to scare you off from recovery. Yes, eating disorder recovery is arduous but it is also one of the most beautiful things in the world. But far too often, eating disorder recovery is packaged up neatly with a curled ribbon on top. Eating disorder recovery is frequently portrayed as a before and after, an image that can be detrimental for those living in between. Eating disorder recovery is a courageous journey to embark on, but it is just that; a journey.

Eating disorder recovery is beautiful, but it isn’t pretty. Recovery is messy and anything but linear.

For years, in college and beyond, I was consumed with guilt when I ate something “unhealthy” (what does that even mean?!) and I went to extreme measures to negate the “extra” calories I consumed. Track and cross-country practice were never enough, especially if I’d eaten lunch that day. I’d convince myself the extra core-work or rest-day-cross-training I did was for my running success, but it was always in an effort to make myself smaller. I regularly cried myself to sleep and made myself miserable, forever in a fight to change the way my body looked.

My recovery began before I could even admit to myself that I had an eating disorder. Close to four years ago, I was still suffering from a tumultuous relationship with food, exercise, and my body. But around that time, I moved to a new city, made new friends, and began to look at running differently. Slowly, I felt a shift in my mindset and over time I grew to hate my body a little less. It took a couple of years, but in time I was finally eating pizza again, I dreaded bikinis less, and I couldn’t remember the last time I had cried myself to sleep. I thought I was all better. Wrap in shiny paper, add ribbon, end of story.

But like I said, that’s not how recovery works. My recovery continued, but certain behaviors stuck with me or returned. I hadn’t weighed myself in at least a year but then my roommate got a scale. At first I weighed myself a few times out of “curiosity” but before too long it was back to weigh-ins two or three times a day. I was eating foods I once feared, but gluten remained fully restricted from my diet. And rest days? Still wasn’t a fan of those. I kept trying however, taking it one day at a time. Baby steps and plenty of falls.

This time last year, with the birth of Lane 9 Project, I found a community of women with experiences similar to mine to connect with. I began to talk about my experience and for the first time, admitted to myself that I had struggled with an eating disorder and that I am still in the recovery process. With this community I have had the opportunity not only to reflect on how far I’ve come, but evaluate how far I still have to go.

I’ve written about recovery, my personal journey, and the freedom there is in being recovered from an eating disorder, but there’s something missing in all that. Although I’ve progressed and I’m no longer that baby trying to walk, I’m still human and I’m always going to fall down.

For example, I love Cheez-Its. Like really really love Cheez-Its. But while I was eating them the other night, I said out loud, “I really need to stop eating these”. Why?! I was hungry, Cheez-Its taste good. There were zero reasons for me to stop. The voice of my eating disorder, the one I’ve been able to silence so successfully, was creeping in. And again, just tonight, I finished up my easy training run and grappled with the idea of doing some core exercises. I didn’t want to, but I felt like I should. Again, the eating disorder voice I’ve worked so hard to leave behind, was trying to sneak back in. I believe I am mostlyrecovered from my eating disorder, but there is always room for growth, and progress is never linear. I may feel amazing for months and then have a few bad days. That’s OK, the goal is to keep moving forward.

This week, I’m teaching my 3rd grade students about story mountains. In stories, characters face a bunch of problems as we climb the mountain, we reach the climax at the top, and then the character’s problems are resolved as we make our way back down the mountain. In my eating disorder story, I’m on my way down the mountain, I’m beyond the climax, the height of my eating disorder, but the path isn’t clear. The trail ahead is winding, with rocks, roots, and the occasional uphill in the way. I will not turn around and climb back up that mountain, but I am prepared to get a little lost on the way.

No one will get everything right in recovery the first time (or second or third).

I am an adult in my recovery journey, but even the strongest among us fall down sometimes. You will fall and you will fail and that is OK. No one will get everything right in recovery the first time (or second or third). Unfortunately, it just isn’t that easy. When you fall, remind yourself that you are not alone. There are so many others who have fallen down with you, help them up. When you fall, do not stay down. You are not a failure, you are a human. You are doing the very best you can and that is always enough.

 

 National Eating Disorder Association Helpline: 800–931–2236

Originally published on Medium

Breaking all the [food] rules

by Alexis Fairbanks, posted in eating disorders

As I scanned the aisles at Trader Joe’s this weekend, a container of animal crackers caught my eye. In a matter of seconds, I went from noticing them, to placing them in my cart and moving along. I thought animal crackers would make a perfect snack to fill the void I’ve been feeling in the afternoon since I’ve been running early before work. That was all the convincing I needed to take them home with me.

Later, as a munched on a handful of lions, and tigers, and bears (oh my!), what I tasted was familiar yet nostalgic.

“When was the last time I ate animal crackers?”

I began to rack my brain. Throughout my childhood, and into my high school and early college years, animal crackers were a staple in my pantry. A simple, yet relatively filling snack I could grab as I headed out the door for karate class or after a run while waiting for dinner. Thinking about it, I realized I probably hadn’t enjoyed animal crackers in about five years.

It was my senior year of college when I stopped eating gluten. I did it because I had so-called stomach issues and I thought that maybe I was ‘gluten intolerant’. It never occurred to me that maybe the reason I constantly felt sick and lethargic was due to the stress and guilt I struggled with every time I ate bad food.

For me there was a clearly defined line between good foods and bad foods. Was it green? Good. Did it contain sugar, carbs, or fat? Bad. I was all in for spinach and egg white omelettes, grilled chicken salads, and fruit smoothies parading as meals. I internally praised myself any day I didn’t eat more than an apple and peanut butter or carrots and celery for lunch. I silently applauded when I said no to ice cream while everyone else headed to the on-campus Friendly’s.

I was constantly keeping score in my mind. If I ate something healthy my score went up, if I ate something unhealthy my score plummeted.

It happened gradually, but overtime I placed all foods into one of the two categories; yin or yang. If a food fell on the side of evil (in other words, if it tasted delicious or actually satisfied me) it required planning and preparation to be eaten. If I ate something I wasn’t supposed to, breaking an arbitrary food rule, I’d bury my head in guilt and shame. In order to rid the guilt, I’d punish myself with something like endless sit-ups, skipping dinner, or brutally negative self-talk until I cried myself to sleep. It was exhausting, but my food rules were the Ten Commandments and they were to be obeyed.

Looking back, I never realized all the rules I’d created for myself, so when I began to heal my relationship with food and my body, I didn’t anticipate all the undoing that would be necessary. Little things, like ice cream once in a while or fries with dinner began to creep back into my diet on occasion, giving me the illusion that I was ‘better’. I was no longer micromanaging every little thing in my body so in my mind I was ‘healed’.

My food rules were so ingrained that I didn’t even notice how vehemently I was still following them.

In August of 2016, we were at the beach, laying in the sun while snacking. In the bag of snacks we toted, alongside some fruits and veggies, was a box of Cheez-It’s. I still hadn’t eaten gluten since 2012, but Cheez-It’s sounded really good, so I thought “what the hell” and dove in. For the first time in four years, I ate gluten. And absolutely nothing happened. I enjoyed the Cheez-It’s, I felt satisfied, and I immediately began to think about all the delicious and fulfilling foods I could finally eat again now that I had officially broken my “no-gluten” rule (GIMME PIZZA!).

No gluten was certainly my most far-reaching food rule, and I’d love to say that once I broke it I began eating intuitively all the time, but that just isn’t the case. I continued to subscribe to a number of food rules for a very long time and I’m realizing there are still many I’m working to break. Just in the past year, I’ve finally begun to allow white bread, white pasta, and white rice back into my life rather than scrutinizing every food label to see if it’s really 100% whole wheat. A couple of months ago I ate a cupcake a student brought in for his birthday for the first time in my four years of teaching. And honestly, eating pizza on a weekday still takes a little dose of courage. But here’s the difference, instead of passively following the arbitrary food rules I created, I’m working to actively break them every chance I get.

Instead of passively following the arbitrary food rules I created, I’m working to actively break them every chance I get.

I don’t think I was holding onto a specific “no animal crackers” rule, but I do think I’m still working to loosen the reins on what I see as an acceptable snack. Animal crackers didn’t fit that box before and now I’ve let them in. It’s a teeny tiny victory, but it’s a step in the right direction. I can think of some food rules I’m still working through and I’m probably still holding on to some that I do not realize now but will eventually be confronted with. For now, it’s a work in progress and there is no longer a clear line between good foods and bad foods. Except that good foods are the ones I enjoy and bad foods are olives.

 

 National Eating Disorder Association Helpline: 800–931–2236

Originally published on Medium