Showing posts with label grieving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grieving. Show all posts

Thursday, July 25, 2013

The ED Grieving Process


This week the discussion topic in one of my classes was death, dying, and the grieving process. Kind of depressing, right? Death isn't something that I spend much time thinking about for that reason.

Most people don't realize eating disorders are the number one cause of death among all mental health disorders. Although there are huge consequences for remaining sick, many of us struggle to ever to get better. As I have gone through recovery, there has been somewhat of a grieving process that has taken place as I have let go of my old, familiar, and comfortable best friend - the eating disorder. 

Over the years, if I was having a bad day and needed to numb out, the eating disorder was there. If I was feeling in inadequate, I would just remind myself that I was the best at restricting my food intake. In a very sick way, the ED made me special. That constant false sense of accomplishment kept me going when everything else seemed to be crumbling before me. 

According to many psychology books, the grieving process has five steps:

 Denial - "My eating disorder isn't THAT bad. I don't need help."
Anger - "How could my parents have left me at this place (treatment). They must not love me. How can these people make me eat this food?!"
Bargaining - "If I'm going to eat this much, I should be able to walk every day."
Depression - "I hate this. Let me stay in bed all day. I don't know how to deal with all of these surfacing emotions."
Acceptance - "There's no turning back. Recovery is the most difficult thing I will ever do, but it sure beats living with an eating disorder."

For this post, I am going to focus on the depression stage of the grieving process because it seems to be the most challenging part for many of us in recovery. In the book, "The Road Less Traveled: A New Psychology of Love, Traditional Values, and Spiritual Growth," written by M. Scott Peck, there is a chapter describing the healthiness of depression. According to Peck, during the process of giving up something it is normal to feel depression because,

"The feeling associated with giving up something loved - or at least something that is part of ourselves and familiar - is depression. Since mentally healthy human beings must grow, and since giving up or loss of the old self is an integral part of process of mental and spiritual growth, depression is a normal and basically healthy phenomenon (pg. 75)."

This might explain why it often feels impossible to give up old, destructive habits. Many of us are unwilling or unable to suffer through the pain associated with giving up our eating disorders. Consequently we cling, sometimes forever, to old thinking patterns which of course keeps us sick.

A few months back I did a post on the Washout Phase, where patients often feel like they have hit a brick wall in recovery and they begin to question whether or not changing is worth it. I think this depression phase of the grieving process is a huge part of the Washout Phase. The good news is, however, once I pushed through that depression phase, I had my "ah-ha" moment and realized there was no turning back.

In a way, living with an eating disorder is like living with death. Although I didn't realize it at the time, I was slowly killing myself. Everyday that I spent caught up in my ED, a small part of my soul was taken away. I became emotionless, vacant, and somewhat unaware of the world around me. Nothing mattered except my rigid routine.

Losing something we have grown to love is not easy and unfortunately many of us have to go through a phase of depression in order to get to the other side; however, keep in mind this part of recovery is completely normal. If you find yourself in that depression phase at this moment, remind yourself that not only is it necessary to heal, but it will also pass.

Making the choice to stop living with death (my eating disorder) was one of the most difficult things I have ever done; but one year later, regardless of the pain, it is clearly the best decision I will ever make.

Progress.