It's funny to look back a week and a half ago and see how upset i was in that last post.
It's funny to look back a few months ago to when my Refinery 29 article came out and I was getting a hundred+ views on this blog, and now, I get 1 or 2 views.
It's funny because things change, and things stay the same.
My first instinct is to judge myself harshly.
I want to accuse myself of writing too honestly, too emotionally, of putting myself out there too unfiltered and frightening people away. It's something I've always done. I have many memories of various authority figures, especially in my childhood, in whom I felt safe enough to confide something my anxious little heart had been turning over and over, only to have them look at me with this expression of mixed pity and incredulity and say (in various formats), "that's a very strange way to think, young lady."
It taught me to cloak all my deep thoughts, all my true feelings in humor, or shove them down into a deep, silent place in my soul and replace the catharsis I was looking for in human understanding with the acceptance that was more readily available, for example, managing my eating and exercising habits so that I became acceptably attractive, or overloading my courses and extracurricular activities so that I would be too busy overachieving and impressing everyone to feel those feelings. If I was too busy to sleep, then I couldn't feel things as deeply, good solution, no?
I think about how this still effects the way I think and take action as an adult sometimes, about how I want to post nothing but pictures of my perfect life on instagram, myself with a super cute messy mom bun and Bastian babbling away delightedly at one of his wooden, learning toys from a small shop in Maine that gets all its toys from Europe. I think about how my reflex is to feel embarrassed that I have no bloody idea how to make the "cute" messy mom bun, and my hair, more often then not is wound into these super tight, British head mistress buns, because if there were any flyaways, the babe would find away to yank them right out of my head. I think about how the baby's favorite toy is actually is horrendous robotic dog that his grandparents got him, and the reason he loves it is because it has light up buttons he can press, and it mechanically chirps at him, and because he can pick it up by its tail and bash it around and then it still sings a silly song to him. I'm fairly certain this is teaching him awful things.
My instinct is always to read mom blogs, compare and contrast. How is Bastian's development against these arbitrary measurements? Is he teething again, and is that normal? He's gone from picking at food with a cursory interest to snarfing entire bowls of things in one sitting which used to last for a week. Measure measure compare compare.
It's all bullshit.
I've forbidden myself from doing it anymore.
My caveats are of course, if I'm terrified the baby has some kind of medical issue and I need to look it up...well...I'm probably going to fall into an internet wormhole, and I allow myself to go to one or two very specific mama sites where the writers are very honest about their struggles and coping mechanisms (cough cough wine cough). These exceptions make me feel less like a shoddy failure, and more like a person surviving if not thriving.
I am now taking it further.
There is a faction of my friends, slightly long distance friends, so our relationships are maintained solely through social media, who have recently become representatives for a couple of different "Beauty" brands. I put the quotes around beauty, because at least one of these brands is actually a weight loss program.
I have nothing but respect for these women. They are working their side hustle so they can stay home and take care of their babies, and that is totally legit.
I do, however, need to self protect, so I don't fall into the trap of the product they are selling.
Because, whether they realize it or not, the product they are selling is dissatisfaction with the self, and a shift of focus on changing one's body shape over changing something that might be causing real stress.
I realized this when i was scrolling through a feed, and one of these women posted a picture of a slim pair of legs in athletic looking leggings with the caption:
Recruiting for a 90 day weight loss group! PM more details on how for ____ dollars a month you can join us in a quest for health and fitness! Blah, positive thing, sales pitch, blah.
My reflex, upon looking at this picture and the caption was to think, and I'm not joking.
I bet I'd be good at that.
I bet if I joined that group I'd totally lose the most weight out of everybody.
It actually hurts to admit that those were my thoughts.
Because I am in recovery though, and it is part of my process to share, because disorders, eating disorders, self esteem disorders, body morphia disorders, and everything else that is wrong with the way we make women think about themselves in this country, thrive when they are kept secret and shameful.
So I am purposefully thrusting my vulnerability into the light.
I, a person, who is currently trying to GAIN WEIGHT TO BE HEALTHY, still fall prey to the insidious thought processes of the weight loss industry.
My disorder told me that I would be the best at losing weight because that would mean bringing it back into the forefront of my life. It would mean putting it above all else in my life as a priority. That's right, above my son, above my career, above my marriage, my friends, my hobbies, my family. That's what disorders do!
They override your logic, your reason, they warp your priorities and make it seem like nothing else matters except managing your physical shape.
IT'S SICK.
Again, I want to say that I can't pass judgement on the women who are using this as their job. I really understand that you need to make money however you can to support your family and maybe this is the only way that makes sense right now, and I support you.
I would like to say, however, that as someone who cannot take part in your business, because it would be harmful both to my physical and mental health, I am probably going to block your feed for a little while.
At least 90 days.
I'm probably going to miss out on awesome pictures of your kids doing cool stuff.
I'm going to miss out on little fun things, and big life things you post about, and I hope you'll forgive me my absence, but I am making this decision based on what's best for my family, which i'm hoping you'll understand.
Because part of being the best mother I can possibly be is being the best version of myself, and teaching my child, that he is not his appearance, that his focus need never be on what he looks like, but what he believes, does, and is.
I can't do that, if I'm not setting the example by doing it myself.
So if I only have two views on this blog from now until the end of time, it's fine by me, because I don't do this for anyone else. I do this because transparency is part of my process.
If you are reading this, and it helps you stop feeling shameful about your own ED past or current disordered habits and rituals, that would make me very happy, and I would encourage you to reach out, talk to someone. It can be someone you trust not to tell you you're weird or stupid for having these thoughts, and if you can't think of anybody who would have that reaction then think of me, because I will never judge you.
It's part of the wonderful thing that is recovery.
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