Adjusting

Life as a patient in an eating disorders program: eating when you don't want to; eating what you don't want to; talking when you don't want to; acting when you don't want to; discovering what you really want, how to do it, validation.

For every thing I hate to have to do every day, I manage to learn something from it. Example: volleying a ball in a gym. Hate it. Memories of Fat Jen in 8th grade being the one to miss the important hit. FATSO. But...I'm not that person today. I'm Just Jen. Free(r) from baggage. Capable (though not always confident). Able to hit a ball...move quickly...laugh when I miss it. And not get laughed at in return. Able to talk about why a group of strangers hitting an oversized playground ball in the air scares me so much. This, THIS is progress for me.

Another lesson: eating won't make me fat. Eating three meals and three snacks a day in appropriate amounts and at appropriate times will not add pounds. Yesterday, I felt like I had gained about 10 pounds in the last 2 weeks. I was fatter. My clothes looked horrible. My pants were tight. My face was bloated. I hated my body. But the doctor told me that Iweighed exactly the same yesterday as I did when I checked into the hospital...even after eating all those meals and snacks full of foods that I hadn't chosen, foods that I fear, foods that really could make me fatter if I ate them other ways. I also learned that I have a distorted perception of my body. Really distorted. Given the facts, my clothes couldn't have been tighter,wouldn't have looked any different than they had days earlier and my body could not have occupied more space.

Whew. Big lessons. Little time. It's a whirlwind for me. I can hardly keep up with the discovery. And I feel like it's moving at such a frenetic pace that I might just miss something really important if I don't pay attention.

This reminds me of a poem from one of my favorite poets, William Stafford. I used to read it and pull from it the darker undertones. But now, it has a slightly different feel for me. Be vigilant. Be awake. I could do that. I really could.


A Ritual To Read To Each Other

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider--
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.