When I was 8 years old, I did something stupid. I said, out loud, “I’ve never broken a bone before.” Two weeks later, my dog veered to the right in the middle of an un-leashed race home from the end … Continue reading
Today, I just wanted to say a few words on the “strong is the new skinny” phenomenon, since it seems to have popped up in my life multiple times over the last few days.
And I know that the following is out of context if you don’t know the rest of the ankle-and-ED story, but bear with me, since it’s what I’m dealing with right now:
Right now, I am not strong. Right now, I can barely stand on my own two feet. Right now, I literally have no balance.
The infection in my ankle, the synovial inflammation, the atrophy of the muscles, the months of poor, compensating movement patterns–all of these things have kept me from pursuing my “strength” and “health” goals.
I am not fat, but I am not muscular. I am not large, but I no longer wear my “skinny jeans.” I am not unhealthy, but I am not fit.
HOWEVER: I am deconditioned, but not decommissioned.
I am no longer able to do what I used to do, but I have been given a new agency: the power of acceptance. I have let my ankle be an excuse for why I couldn’t achieve the aesthetic goals I thought were so important, but in the end, it became an excuse for me to tell ED “no.” I can’t do hours of cardio. I can’t even go swimming. There is no outlet for my obsession, and so I have had to learn instead how to cope.
And in learning how to cope, I opened my eyes to the Monster in the Mirror who was terrorizing me with images of fitness models and unrealistic goals. I opened my eyes and looked at some of the women who are competing and realized how thin and sickly they look. They are “strong” and they are “skinny,” but I know all too well that somewhere, gestating inside of them, are the seeds of malnutrition, adrenal fatigue and hormonal imbalance, and mental/emotional disorders such as BDD and ED.
I know, because even though I never had the chance to compete, I was there with them. I have all of those problems because I allowed myself to believe that I had to fit an ideal–not of the waif-like skinny models of the 90s, but of the 0% body fat fitness models of the millennium.
Yes, strong is important. But strength has nothing to do with an aesthetic ideal. Strength–and health–can happen even without fasted cardio and tupperwares full of boiled chicken and steamed broccoli. And, yes, I still think muscles are sexy; however at this point, I’ve been forced to accept that it’s not about body fat levels or lack of cellulite, it’s about nourishing my body enough to survive until tomorrow, and as many tomorrows as I can after that one.
I also opened my eyes to the “regular” women (and men) I know, who post and tweet and talk about eating less and exercising more and how fat they think they look. All of the negative self-talk, all of the unnecessary worrying…wouldn’t life be so much better if they could learn to appreciate, nourish, and augment the strength they are already capable of?
Yes, being strong is an admirable goal, but what is strength without balance?* What is weight loss/gain without confidence? What is life without happiness? Where is the strength in a world dedicated to ED?**
I spoke to a woman the other day who couldn’t understand why I was against the fitspo images of “strong is the new skinny.” She is strong, and she is proud of her muscles. And she has every right to be. But for her, muscles are a means to improving athletic performance, not augmenting the clothes she wears. She is concerned with how many pounds she can lift in so much time, not by how much her triceps “pop” in a sleeveless shirt. She uses her abs instead of looking at them. Every person should be so lucky to have that kind of relationship with his or her body. “Strong is the new skinny” makes us want to get fit because we want to look a certain way; the athletic/muscular performance is considered only a side effect.*** But right now, “strong is the new skinny” is something I am not and cannot be–and I am not alone in this.
Letting go of the look and striving for the be is the only cure. And that means letting go of the have to and the should. It means investing in a strength other than the one that ED offers–call it a spiritual strength, call it an emotional strength, but call it anything but “strong is the new skinny.”
With my injury, I have lost the ability to train the way I used to. Even the basics are less available to me as I try to keep the inflammation in my body down (and let the antibiotics do their work). It has been a long time since I have been able to devote hours to the gym, but I have made do. And I am still strong.
No, I can’t do a pull up, but I am still strong enough to chin. No, I can’t run a mile, but I can hold a plank for 2 minutes. I will celebrate whatever strength my body will let me have while I heal, and I will be gentle with myself until I can get my ankle strong again.
That’s the kind of strength I can believe in–and skinny be damned.
*And I’m not just talking about being able to do an overhead press while standing on a bosu ball…
**Even if you don’t have a clinically diagnosed ED, by continuing, spreading, and promoting the negative self-talk, the abnormal and unattainable body ideals, and transmutation of health and wellness into aesthetic goals, you’re helping keep ED alive–even in your own life.
***I’m sure if personal trainers+ had a dollar for every client who came to them seeking to look better and then complained about having to work out, training would be a much better paid profession. If you go to the gym because you want to look a certain way but hate every second of it, there’s something wrong. Find a way to be active that makes you happy, and the aesthetics will follow.
+To clarify, I’m talking about general population trainers, not specialized trainers like strength coaches, athletic coaches, physical therapists, etc.
Before I go on, I wanted to say a few thing about recovery:
I am not recovered. I am closer to serenity now than I have been for many years, but I am not recovered.
When I first started out on this path toward recovery, I was thwarted by myself. I wanted a magic pill to erase the years of hurt. I wanted to wake up and say, “Today, my ED is gone, and I am all better.”
I’ve tried diets; I’ve tried overdoing “fitness.” I’ve hidden in academia, and I’ve run away from my dreams. I’ve picked up my life and moved across the country. But always I have forced myself in the direction of “being all better.”
But I’m learning that recovery doesn’t work like that.
ED is like a virus–once it’s in your system, it imprints itself on your DNA, becomes a part of you, changes you in subtle, but insidious ways. You can “get better” when you have a virus, sure, but “better” doesn’t mean that the virus is gone. It stays in your bloodstream, waiting for a moment to flare up and attack your immune system again.
All you can do is build up that immune system and learn how to fight through the symptoms.
I’ve known this fact for years, and yet I’ve spent those years trying to disprove it. Knowing that I will always have an ED was incredibly depressing to me. And yet the more I sought to control the virus’s symptoms, the sicker I got.
Today, I’m throwing my hands up and waving a white flag of surrender. Not because I give up–far from it. But I am giving up the control.
I will always have an ED. I accept that I am powerless.
Now, instead of fighting, I can focus on building up my immune system instead. By being powerless, I become powerful.
To those of you who are out there who struggle to fight off the symptoms of their own ED virus, just know that you are not alone.
Build up your immune system by reaching out and talking to others who suffer. Take time to meditate. Find a support system. Engage in positive self-talk (even if you don’t believe it) or find someone who will help you see the truth behind ED’s lies.
We don’t have to suffer forever. There is hope.
I’m not perfect. I’m not recovered. But if you ever need me, I’ll be here. And together, we can fight.