Get Your Feet Wet

Hi! I hope your week is going well. I am having a wonderful week with my family at South Padre Island in Texas. I am here with my mom, dad, brothers, sister-in-law, and nephew. I always learn a lot from my two-year-old nephew, Drew.

Yesterday we all went to the beach. In the beginning, Drew was terrified of the water. He did not want anything to do with the waves and preferred to build sand castles upon the shore. Every once in awhile, we each took Drew by the hand and walked him out to the water --- just to get his feet wet. Eventually, he was running in the water, playing in the waves, and laughing out loud. What once seemed scary became joyful!

This experience with Drew reminded me of what it was like to walk along recovery road for my eating disorder. First, I was terrified to even admit that I had a problem. Then I was scared to reach out for help. When I finally entered into therapy, I was afraid of what my life might be like without my eating disorder. Similar to my nephew, at each step in the recovery process, I just had to get my feet wet. I had to take things slow and ask for help along the way. And just like Drew, what once seemed scary became joyful. Life without an eating disorder is amazing!

I want to share an article that I wrote with you below. My words will take you through my first steps along recovery road --- getting through the fear of denial. I hope you can relate to the piece in some way.

Well, I have to get back to the beach…have a great day!

Jenni

Not Me!
Denial – Why are we all so afraid of facing a problem?
by Jenni Schaefer

“Are you anorexic,” a friend asked me in college. Inwardly I thought, “What a compliment. I am finally thin! I am successful” Outwardly, I answered, “Of course, not.” And I went on and on explaining how much I ate day in and day out. I really believed it. But I don’t think my friend paid much attention to my long, drawn out answer, because she kept asking --- along with everyone else.

Denial. Why are we all so afraid of facing a problem? Whether it involves food, alcohol, drugs, or any other substance --- or person --- we all do it. We deny it. Sure we might know that we have a little “issue” with a particular substance that a loved one keeps bringing to our attention. Yes, maybe that substance affects our home life and is starting to change our ability to function at work. And maybe we even occasionally wake up in the morning on the front lawn --- wondering how in the world we got there and what happened last night. But we don’t have a real problem. 

When people asked me about anorexia, I knew there was something wrong, at least a little bit wrong. I knew that I was extremely conscious about my weight. My happiness on any given day was determined by whether or not my smallest pair of jeans hung loosely off my waist. I knew that I sometimes went for days at a time without eating. My thoughts, including my dreams, were completely consumed by food and weight. But I did not think I was so bad off that I needed an official label such as “anorexic.” I minimized.

And I analyzed. I researched this disorder with such a strange name and uncovered the medical diagnostic criteria for anorexia. After hours of intense research, I confirmed that I did not have a problem. I was a biochemistry major, and I was accustomed to being in laboratories and finding solutions to complex, analytical problems. So I knew without a doubt that I did not meet all of the criteria for anorexia.

I justified. My eating is normal. When I looked at the amount of food I consumed over the course of an entire week, I was eating just as much as a “normal” person --- when you consider that I binged enough on some days to make up for the days that I did not eat at all. Oh, did I fail to mention that I was also bulimic? I never brought that up in college either. I honestly did not think I was bulimic, because people with bulimia throw up. At that time, I did not throw up, so it was an easy sell: I was not bulimic. Today I know the truth is that all people with bulimia do not throw up. I mentioned previously that I was gung-ho about research back in my college years, but I did not bother to look seriously into the details of bulimia. I only wanted the facts that would prove my case. I did not have an eating disorder.

I was not lying. While lying is conscious, denial takes place on a subconscious level. In fact, when we start to learn the truth about ourselves, we are often surprised at the incredible depth of our denial. Denial is a defense mechanism that helps us to block out something that feels threatening to our well-being.

Moving through denial takes honesty and open-mindedness. It takes the willingness to listen to other people and reevaluate our own thoughts. Ultimately to conquer denial, we must have humility. We must not worry about what society might think about us, and we must face any feelings of shame or embarrassment. After I finally admitted that I did, in fact, have an eating disorder, I did not want to tell anyone except my boyfriend and parents. But I eventually realized that I needed the support of others to recover. Obviously I have told a few more people now.

We need to have humility and admit the truth. I have a problem. As my former therapist, Thom Rutledge, says, “You are not the problem, but you have a problem.” And we have to realize that we are powerless over the problem.

Then --- and only then --- the road to recovery can begin. And it is worth every step. Along the way, we often reach out to help others we see walking our old path. We don’t worry when we hear the response, “Not me.”

It is all part of the journey.

Comments

[Jenni Schaefer [AUTHOR]]

Leslie and Suki,

You two are amazing --- so courageous and inspirational! It means a lot to me that you took the time to share your stories with me and others. We all learn so much from one another. Keep working hard in recovery. Proud of you both!

Jenni