eatingdisorder – Brooke Lyn Landon

Addiction: Old Habits Die Hard

Today marks year 8 since I left a rehabilitation center for eating disorders. That’s not to say it’s all been smooth sailing since. In fact, at times the waters have been rockier than Chris Brown and Rihanna’s relationship.

The past few months, I’ve been having the time of my life. I have an incredible group of friends, I’m making money, having fun, and blah blah blah. Yet, unbeknownst to the world, there was still an internal struggle with my old friend ED. (Eating Disorder) Although I haven’t “relapsed” as many would say, I have certainly regressed in terms of my behaviors, feelings, and thinking.

I look at ED as some abusive ex partner that continues to slide back into my DMs. It’s like ED can see my glow up, and can’t resist swooping back in. ED sends out a message, and I ignorantly open the new inbox notification that says… “I miss you.” I want to respond with a poop emoji but next thing you know a heart has been sent and we’re talking till 2AM.

It’s clear to me that these moments come when something within me is out of alignment. Regardless of how good life is, when I feel too much uncertainty, or a lack of trust in myself or life… *knock knock knock* Here comes ED with his never ending list of food suggestions and criticisms to “help” and control me. Can you blame me for feeling like life has had a fair amount of uncertainty these days? #2020 #isthisreallyhappening

Eating disorders are all about control, so this is my sick and twisted way to cope with the lack of control I feel in my own life. Then, this coping mechanism turns into a habit, and if I’m not careful, a relapse.

It goes a little something like… “You know you want to try that cookie. Go for it. Treat yo’self! You should finish them. Thick is the new fit so I’ve heard.” … “Can’t believe how much you ate. You’re going to be able to feed a Mormon family with the amount of rolls you’re going to have on you tomorrow. You better find a meal to skip soon.”

More often than not, it’s quite counter productive as you can imagine. I end up feeling like Gollum without a ring, but much fatter. (I don’t know why I write so many references from The Lord Of The Rings when I haven’t even seen all of the movies.)

Do I worry about relapsing in the future? I’d be lying if I said no. Heck, I worried today at the vegan buffet. That said, I refuse to let ED win. ED has ruined relationships of mine, and nearly took my life. Yet ED has also taught me some of my most valuable lessons and insights. I do not hate ED. In fact, I love ED for all of the strength and growth it has given me, but I also do not want ED to be an active part of my life again.

I’m here to say It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to regrettably respond to a DM every once in a while. You learn from it all. Just make sure you don’t take the loser back completely.

Relapsing

Traveling the world the past 6 months has been the ultimate mode of healing in terms of transcending old beliefs, and addictive disorderly thinking and behaviors. I have never been less concerned about what I did, ate, or how I was perceived. However, it’s common to get to a point where we think we’ve done all the work we need in a certain area of our lives, only to discover there’s more we need to climb before we reach the mountains peak. That’s what happened to me this past weekend when I went to Ha Long Bay, Vietnam.

It’s everyone’s dream to get paid to party on a private island with guests for several nights. I knew my liver wouldn’t be thrilled, but I was. Then, things took a turn for the worse.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around how I went from Lindsey Lohan pre Parent Trap, to her post Mean Girls. I’m kidding to a certain extent. I didn’t go crazy and go to jail, or whatever that chick did during her scandals. What I did was go back to my old ways of thinking and behaving.

I began to feel insecure, binge, and feel tremendous guilt for everything I ate or drank. I know I still have some reflecting and contemplating to do in order to trace back and acknowledge how this all manifested. There are however a few triggers that seem more obvious.

My co tour guide, Lu, is a sweet young girl from Germany. She’s also hot af. Standing next to her was the equivalent of super model Heidi Klum next to Snookie from her Jersey Shore days. All the guys drooled over her like they were on the Survivor reality Tv show, and they were about to eat their first meal since going off the island they had been stranded on for months. I felt utterly invisible, and undesirable. The large buffet style meals they served were something that took me ages to face again after rehab because that was my eating disorders happy place. As you can imagine, when that’s in front of me while I’m feeling like an ugly old fart, it’s a recipe for disaster. Also, the extensive drinking and empty calories certainly weren’t positively contributing to my body or mind. My self control and self esteem fell harder than a fat kid on a seesaw.

I’m looking at that temporary digression from a new and higher perspective. It’s an opportunity for growth, transcendence, forgiveness, and self love. In the past when I’ve relapsed I beat myself up. This time I’m more forgiving, accepting, and loving towards myself. Granted, it wasn’t nearly as bad, nor did I go as far as I did in the past when I went back to some of my old ways, but regardless, I digressed. Now though, I’m perceiving it more as a success because of how I’m handling it. I’m not saying having done that was a good thing. I am saying shit happens, and how you handle it can change your future. At the end of the day, I’m living my best life in Vietnam, but sometimes you have to go through ebbs in life so you can flow more smoothly after.

How I Feel About My Body Image Since Traveling

C380A78D-9673-4DA8-9012-F97FFA8C5D20 A big part of traveling the world is experiencing the culture, and that includes the food. What happens when you consume an absurd amount of pad thai and befriend a bunch of bros who eat about six meals a day? You guessed it. Thighs that are thicker than the minds of those who don’t believe in global warming.

Before traveling the world, I was a fitness instructor, I worked out seven days a week, and was vegan. Not the vegan that still eats vegan ice cream and french fries. The kind of vegan that looks at the package at a grocery store for 10 minutes to make sure they know all of the ingredients. So, as you can imagine, a lot changes both physically and mentally when your daily health and fitness routine goes from Kayla the fitness guru, to Honey Boo-Boo.

Having struggled with a sever eating disorder for years, it’s not hard to guess my initial reaction to my reflection as my body changed was not a positive one.

“It looks like I have a food baby the size of my ex boyfriends ego.” Was the kind of internal dialogue I would have when I had to get dressed in the morning.

Somehow, someway, things started to shift. I couldn’t even tell you why or how. I started to live more freely. I began to look at my curves as sexy. I was beyond grateful that I allowed myself to eat what I wanted, and experience the culture, without the excessive guilt or counting calories endless times a day like I used to.

Between the liberation of eating what I want without internally freaking out, and having people like me for me, it’s easy to see I used to give a fuck about all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons. I realize that if I was the twig I had wished I was, I’d want to look more like me now. You want what you can’t have. Even though society says one type of beauty trumps the rest, I beg to differ. Plenty of people prefer having something to hold on to, in which case, I have no shortage here.

My mother tells me “There’s a cover for every pot.” That I believe to be true. For every body type, there are plenty of others who’d admire the beauty of it. However, the most important thing to be able to do is cover your own pot. You can always trade lids when another comes along, but you don’t want to be left feeling cold because of the way you feel about who you are or how you look. I’m hoping that metaphor comes across as good as it did in my head.

Did I grieve today when I couldn’t fit into the pants I tried on in a store in Japan? Yes, but mainly because they were sexy af and I would have worn them so much. Gosh, I’m getting so salty just thinking about it. Let’s be real though, I do not have the physique of a typical Japanese woman, and that I’m okay with. Do I wish my body was different? Also yes. Though I appreciate what I have and how I am, I’d be lying if I said I was thrilled about all my extra fluff. Some is great, but I’d love to distribute the rest to my ass if I’m being honest.

If I was huffing and puffing like a chain smoker with asthma after walking down the block, that’s one thing. However, that’s not the case. Im living my best life, doing just fine. In fact, more than fine. Beautiful curves and all.

What I Realized From Having a Virus in a Developing Country

Yesterday, I spent several hours getting pumped with fluids in a hospital bed, in a developing country, alone. Believe it or not, those were the best three hours of that day. Well, not too hard to believe considering it was cheaper and easier than getting care in the US, I felt like a queen, and got to nap with no other agenda. Fuck. Yes. Every adults dream.

I thought by this point I was good enough to muster the strength of a 4 hour bus ride to Vang Vieng, Laos. Now however, I’m crippled with concern that this bus will be showing waterworks starring me. Main Attraction: Projectile Vomit Everywhere. I have a plastic bag ready, and trust me, my fingers have never been crossed so tightly because I want that show cancelled.

I always joked about how I was one stomach flu away from my ideal weight. Be careful what you wish for. Not only is that a load of BS, but it’s probably the opposite. The laundry list of food I’m going to want to tackle once I get my appetite back will give me enough rolls on my sides to feed a Mormon family. I can’t even imagine how the Australian dude who was next to me with Dengue fever is going to feel.

It puts things in perspective. Fuck being an “ideal” weight. That shit isn’t even ideal. It’s a standard created by mentally ill people. Screw all ideals! Most people are pretty messed up in the head, so I think it’s safe to say the only logical ideal we should strive for is to be genuinely healthy and happy. That may be a no brainer, but hear me out.

When I took 8-10 gym classes a week and counted calories like it was my day job, I thought I was being healthy. What that’s really called is an eating disorder. When I was feeling good as a result of having social recognition and approval from other people in high school, I thought I was happy. That was masked insecurity. It’s harder to be truly happy and healthy regardless of our outside circumstances than we think. Though I’m constantly getting closer to that real healthy, happy place, I’d be lying if I didn’t internally huff and puff trying to fit into my old pair of shorts earlier today.

I think the first step to transcending the bullshit of expectations and unhealthy ideals is to become aware that life, for the most part, is a set of ideals and expectations that have been created by mentally sick people. People who thought happiness came from somewhere or something else. Or that if you didn’t have your life a certain way at a certain time, you were less than. By acknowledging that, at least I can be aware of the bullshit that it is. Awareness, patience, perseverance, and self acceptance of wherever we are, is a recipe to a genuinely healthier, happier life, and a smoother drive to Vang Vieng. I’m pleased to announce that I only have 20 minutes left of the ride, and I think the French boys next to me will stay dry.

CagED: Living With an Eating Disorder

The only break I got from my living nightmare, was when I was asleep. My eating disorder consumed me. “When will I eat next? What will I eat? How will I be incognito when the lunch lady clearly sees me grabbing my 6th cookie? I already have a rivalry with her, so fuck it. Plus, I can just have Alexis get me more. God damnit, how dare they take so long in the bathroom. The audacity. I need to be alone in there. If only I was thinner… “ something along those lines was the loop that played on repeat in my head.

To think I used to live that way is almost surreal. The severe amount of anxiety and imprisonment I felt in my own body and mind became second nature. The double life I had to live sucked the life out of me, but I couldn’t even tell. I was able to fool myself and everyone around me.

“Wow, how can you eat so much and be so skinny? Do you have a super fast metabolism or something? You’re so lucky!” Said an acquaintance that I reluctantly agreed could accompany me one day. Meanwhile, she only was watching me eat the last quarter of my meal. Although I was thrilled she called me skinny, her even noticing my eating habits made me want to mush the rest of my ice cream in her face.

It was like I was in an abusive relationship with ED, my eating disorder. I didn’t want anyone to acknowledge it was happening, or make me remember that it was a toxic relationship.

“ED is always there for me. ED comforts me everyday. Yes, ED is controlling, manipulative, and causes me mental and physical pain, but I love ED. Id be lost without ED. ED is my everything. How could I ever live without ED?”

Thankfully, my desire to be free eventually outweighed the comfort of being cagED. My passion and dedication to heal and love myself became the key to unlock me from the captivity of ED. I learned a lot from ED, but I’ve learned more by shutting that door, so I could walk through another one that wouldn’t keep me cagED. photo-1507750809133-76dfbb107d68

From interview to Intervention

jennifer-burk-118076 Fast forward exactly one year later from the day I relapsed at the festival, and my phone rang with different news. The editor of LEFAIR magazine called to inform me I would be interviewing an eating disorder specialist for my upcoming article I was writing titled “Our Society Has An Eating Disorder”. I enthusiastically agreed, but hung up the phone like the Grinch on Christmas day. Not wanting to have to change what I had already written, I reluctantly but willingly scheduled a time to meet with her.

It took me six months to miraculously claw my way out of the dark hole I had created a year ago, but I was still covered in dirt. I wasn’t bulimic or eating more in one sitting than a quarterback eats in an entire day, but my thoughts about food and looking at what I perceived as imperfections of my body, were about 100 times more frequent than the amount of times I go to the bathroom when I’m on a cleanse. Regardless, I thought I could figure it all out on my own until my interview turned into an intervention.

I felt about as prepared to interview her as I did taking the practice ACTs, where I randomly selected letters because I wasn’t having any of it. To be honest, I don’t really remember the questions I asked. I do however remember what came about as a result of meeting with her.

The door opened and I was immediately greeted by an old Boston Terrier with one cloudy eye. Standing tall by the side of the dog was Allie, the therapist. With her blonde beach wavy hair, and slender body, it looked like she should be featured in the next Target ad pretending to have fun with children. I nervously said hello and took a seat on her faux leather couch. Not long after we began to talk I told her about having relapsed shortly after arriving to California. I tried to make it seem as though I now had no problems with food, overeating, or my body image, but there was no fooling her.

“You know you wouldn’t have relapsed if you truly healed, right?” Her glasses were the only thing that stood between us as she spoke.

I forgot what my response was, but from how the she continued, I know I agreed.

“Look, I’m totally booked and am not looking to take on any new clients, but I feel like this happened too serendipitously, and I have to see you.”

“Damn it, she’s totally right.” I thought as I became aware of the work I was about to endeavor.

Long story long, here I am, doing the work, and ready to ride this out.

Journal entry after my first session: ” As much as I don’t want to admit this to myself, the reason I’m seeing Allie is because I’m not in alignment with who I truly am. My mind body and soul are not working in harmony with one another, and she made that clear to me by informing me about something that I like to call “The Loop” When one is not in alignment with their true self, soul, whatever you want to call it, they go through a cycle between the persecutor, victim, and rescuer.

The Persecutor is our fundamental limiting beliefs, that we may not even be aware of, such as “I’m not good enough”, “I’m not lovable”, etc. Then, the place where I’ve discovered (Rather Allie told me) I tend to reside, is The Victim, which stems from our limiting beliefs. “I can’t”, “Oh woe is me”, “something is wrong with me” and so forth. We then inevitably go to The Rescuer. We need something to take us away and relieve us from the stress The Persecutor and Victim are putting us through, and rescue ourselves by using other people, drugs, alcohol, social media, or, you guessed it, food. Until I heal myself, and change my beliefs and patterns, the loop will continue or come back when the going gets rough. The weird thing is I know I’m not those limiting beliefs, yet my brain is wired to believe it as truth. I don’t know how one goes about changing for good, but I guess I’ll find out. ”

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A Woman on the Verge of Everything

“Fuck. I can’t believe I ate that entire bag of chips at the barbecue last night, and waddled all the way home with a food baby the size of my ex boyfriends ego. It was nothing short of a scene from the walking dead. At least they were gluten-free. It doesn’t even matter though, look at me! I look like the offspring of a sumo wrestler and Melissa McCarthy before she lost weight. If I don’t eat too much for the next few days, I should look decent by the time I have to fit into my tight dress.” Welcome to a glimpse in the mind of Brooke-Lyn.

I struggled with a severe eating disorder for years. Though at this point one would look at me, or see what I do, and think I’m totally “normal” now, it is clear by my thoughts, that I have not healed that part of me. I’ve dedicated my life to loving and embracing every part of me, and it is time I love this too in order to truly heal and transcend these patterns of thoughts and behaviors. I have been documenting this journey of healing and self discovery, and I’m eager and excited to get this out there to inspire others to take action towards reaching a more desirable version of themselves.

You know the saying “Jump and the net will appear”? Well I did jump, but there was no net, and I hit the pavement. This past year has been like a five star adventure/ drama /comedy movie, even though at that time, I saw it as a box office bomb. I’m ready to bare it all and finish this chapter of my life with an audience, because I’d rather take people along the journey, than write them a postcard once I’ve reached the destination saying “wish you were here.”

Though the journey has just begun, I’ve already been feeling like a mix between Britney Spears during her bald head phase, and Scooby Doo solving a mystery. Through uncovering and identifying parts of my past that I have held on to for decades, I am in the process of releasing myself of that bondage and false sense of self that has been created. It appears as though an eating disorder is about an obsession with food of some kind, but it’s really only the symptom of deeper rooted issues. While I’ve been dealing with the old wounds I have found over the past few months, sometimes I feel like a part of me is dying, but I believe it’s because a part of my identity is.

For me, I think a huge part of my healing process and inspiring others is being vulnerable, expressing myself (with a side of sarcasm), and accepting where I am in this journey of self discovery and love. It may take a few more months, or a year, but this part of me will heal. The deeper I go the darker it gets, but that’s where the best treasures lie, and I won’t stop digging until I reach gold.