My Exercise Autobiography

Exercise in My Childhood

I was like most most young kids...active and adventurous. My grandpa lived next door and I spent much of my youth running around his farm and playing games in the fields. I loved riding my bike, swimming in the pond near my home, and playing night games with the neighborhood kids. I also took dance lessons and played little league softball. Never once did I associate any of these activities with changing my body.  I was active for no other reason than it was fun and it made me feel good. I had no idea what calories were or that being active could burn them. 

         

Exercise in My Early Adolescence
Two very significant things happened the year I turned 12: my parents bought me my first trampoline, and I started power tumbling lessons. A new passion had been unleashed and I was obsessed. Actually, obsessed is probably not even a strong enough word to describe it. POSSESSED might be more fitting. It was not uncommon for me to come right home from school and jump on the trampoline until bed time, only stopping to eat dinner or grab a drink. In the winters I would go out in my snowsuit and shovel 2 to 3 feet of snow off of the trampoline just so I could practice my tricks. Rain, snow, freezing temperatures, blistering heat...none of it stopped me. I was power tumbling twice a week and participating in competitions on the weekends. It was as if this athlete inside of me had fully emerged, and I felt empowered. Again, none of this ever correlated itself with trying to change my body, lose weight, or burn calories. Nope, I only did this because I truly loved it. It was exhilarating every time I learned a new skill or made improvements on an existing skill. I remember talking to a friend about heaven. My vision of heaven had been miles and miles of trampolines that I could do never ending flips and aerials on. Looking back, it's evident that this is about the same time the first signs of  my clinical depression began to emerge. I didn't know what clinical depression was at the time, nor did I know I was suffering from it. I only knew that I was hurting and that power tumbling made me feel better. I had no knowledge of endorphins and their relationship to exercise, but nonetheless, I was subconsciously medicating myself with this powerful and natural anti-depressant. 

Exercise in My Eating Disorder
I was 14 when my eating disorder developed and it completely changed my relationship with exercise. power tumbling became a way to burn off calories, and with this change in motivation came an eventual loss of passion. Soon, I dropped off my power tumbling team, and jumping on the trampoline became more of a chore than something I loved doing. My body also recognized that physical activity didn't feel as good anymore. I wasn't properly nourished to do such rigorous activities like power tumbling. I became lightheaded and dizzy, instead of energized like I had in the past. For whatever reason, my love of dance seemed to stay intact throughout high school, and I became a member of the drill team. This was actually a pretty positive thing for me. I felt more motivated to quit my eating disorder behaviors, because I was part of a team and I knew others were counting on me. All throughout high school I was on a roller coaster. Some times I was very motivated to get better, and other times I just wanted to give up. My weight reflected this roller coaster and it fluctuated A LOT. As the eating disorder progressed, exercise became a way to torture my body. Many times I would stay up all night and just do exercise videos over and over until morning (this was so I could hide my obsession from my family). I secretly exercised in my room for hours at a time. There was nothing fun about exercise anymore. It got even worse as I went off to college. I couldn't do the simplest physical activity without passing out and scaring my friends to death. One night, after I had been out exercising, I ended up passing out outside of my apartment complex and then was taken to the Emergency Room for severe electrolyte imbalances. This was the turning point for me. I had hit rock bottom, and knew that my body couldn't take much more abuse. It was either death or treatment. I chose treatment.

Exercise in Early Recovery 

Intuitive exercise (which I will discuss in more detail in future posts) is one of the principles of Intuitive Eating, so learning to develop a healthy relationship with exercise was part of my treatment at the Center For Change. We weren't allowed to exercise until we reached a certain phase, and even then we could only do it at certain times or during certain groups. In treatment, I started to make some healthy connections with exercise, but I still had a very long way to go. After leaving the Center For Change, It seemed that any time I did try to incorporate exercise into my life, eating disorder thoughts would overwhelm me. It was far too triggering early on, and so I had to tread very slowly. My recovery mattered more to me than anything else, so exercise was put on the back burner until I felt I had recovered enough for it to be something positive in my life.

Snowboarding and My Recovery

 In early recovery, I had longed for physical activity and physical fitness. I so desperately missed that part of myself. I didn't know how to reconnect to the healthy love of exercise that I once had. About 7 or 8 months after leaving treatment, Josh (my boyfriend, who is now my husband) & I bought season passes to the Canyons Ski Resort. Before treatment, he had taken me back country snowboarding a couple of times, but my sick body could not withstand the rigor of the sport and I often ended up passing out. This decision, to give the sport another try, was the beginning of  me reclaiming the athlete that had always been a part of me. Once again a passion was born. I found it easy to push eating disorder thoughts out of my mind, as I focused on learning a new skill. The first day on the slopes I met, who is to this day, one of my very best friends. It was her first day too and we learned together, laughing at each other along the way. All season long we went at least weekly, and sometimes several times a week. That familiar exhilaration of learning a new, physical skill returned and I was hooked. Most days we would go for 7 or 8 hours, with little down time. Often, my muscles would be so sore the next day that I could barely walk. To me, this feeling was WONDERFUL. It meant my body was becoming stronger, it was recovering. I was reclaiming something that my eating disorder had taken from me. The athlete, that had been buried deep down inside, was once again emerging and so many positive connections were being made. I had some of my very best friends, as well as the love of my life, by my side. It was so very different than the exercise I had experienced in the dark days of my eating disorder. My fitness levels improved so much and it felt AMAZING. By the end of the season, it all felt so easy. I wasn't out of breath, or too sore, or too tired after a full day of snowboarding. This new awakening led to discovering and rediscovering other passions as well. I started jumping on the trampoline again, and power tumbling in my back yard. My life started filling up with things like: hiking, swimming at the lake, and wake boarding. My winters from that point on were ALWAYS filled with snowboarding, and I will ALWAYS have a passion for the sport that reconnected me to my inner athlete.

Getting Back Into 'Formal' Exercise

Josh and I got married, and together we lived a pretty active lifestyle through our different hobbies and interests, but I still didn't have much desire to do any kind of formal exercise. It scared me. I didn't want anything to get in the way of my recovery. Every now and again I would go to the gym, but there were always so many triggers. Doing exercise videos at home brought back bad memories and I couldn't enjoy it. At the time, I didn't really know how to come up with my own exercises, so formal exercise was not a very big part of my life over the next few years. That was until the birth of my first child, Jaxon, in 2005. I fell into a deep postpartum depression, Josh was working and going to school, Jaxon was extremely colicky, I was adjustinging to being home full time, and I was unable to go out and do the things that normally had kept me active. I knew I needed to do something to nurture myself during this difficult time. I decided to buy a gym pass, which included daycare for Jaxon. I started going to the morning workout classes 5 days a week. Before my very first time going, I gave myself a pep talk that I would not go to these classes to lose weight or change my body, I would only go to these classes to take care of my body and mind. This would be my ONLY motivation for exercising. I knew I would be surrounded by women, with different motives and I prepared myself for that. As I started going, I realized how much progress I had actually made in disconnecting exercise from weight loss. The women's comments had very little effect on me. There was one instructor that was very extreme in the way she tried to motivate the class to lose weight and diet. My answer to not being effected by her comments, was to simply tune them out. Sometimes I would repeat positive affirmations in my head, until the class was over. It felt SO GOOD to be moving again, and to see the progress in my fitness levels. I felt the powerful effect this ritual of daily exercise had on my mental health. Kickboxing was my most favorite class of all. I could go in their and beat the crap out of the kickboxing bag, and release all the stress and frustration that was pent up inside. During the weight lifting classes, I remember doing weighted squats and just thinking about how easy snowboarding through the powder would be with my tougher legs. This one hour of physical activity at the gym, was my time and I looked forward to it everyday. 

Exercise Now

I continued working out at the gym for almost 7 years. It was only about a year and a half ago that I transitioned to working out at my own home. I was worried at first about doing my own thing, and not having an instructor there to tell me what to do. I was also worried about it not being able to be my own time anymore, since I wouldn't have the daycare for my kids. It all worked out though. I guess when exercise has become something you love, you find a way to make it work. I get up and do my workouts at 6 a.m. and have actually become a morning person (this is a miracle for me, believe me). My two older kids are usually awake at 6:00 or 6:30, but they either watch a movie, play upstairs by themselves, or come and join me (which is absolutely adorable when they do). I started out doing CrossFit workouts from their website, and eventually decided to design my own workouts from what I had learned. Working out is what gets me up and going every morning. It gives me energy to tackle my role as a mom. I continue to keep my focus on nurturing myself and fitness and OFF my appearance. I have reached a level of strength and endurance that I would have never thought possible for me. I exercise for no other reason than it is fun and it makes me feel good.  And now, we have come full circle.

A Deeply Personal Post: The Day I Realized God Loved Me

There were many epiphanies and awakenings while I was in treatment for my eating disorder, but none were more important to my recovery than what I am about to share. 

About 3 weeks into my stay at the Center for Change, I left one evening for a 'pass.' Passes were a way for us to start  practicing the things we were learning in treatment, and to see how well we could do on our own. On this pass I made, what was to me, a huge mistake. There is no need for me to share the details of this mistake, just that it left me devastated and ashamed. Upon returning back to my treatment 'home' I did not talk about my pass with anyone. Soon it was off to bed, and we all retreated to our rooms. I kept up the facade of everything being fine until my roommate fell asleep. It was at that moment, laying in bed all alone, that the gravity of my feelings hit me. All the progress I had made up to that point felt lost. Hope was gone. Shame consumed me. There had been many dark moments in my life, but this was the darkest. The Center for Change took every precaution to prevent patients from hurting themselves. Very few items were allowed in our rooms, and care techs checked on us every hour throughout the night. My thoughts turned to scheming a way around these safeguards. I wanted nothing more than to disappear. I didn't want to just die, I wished for my very body and spirit to not exist anymore. If there had been a means to do it, my life would have ended that night.  

The last thing I wanted to do in those tortuous moments was talk to God. I believed I was not worthy of his help, his love, or his comfort. My shame made me fear facing him, but there was something inside of me that KNEW I must talk to him. After spending hours wallowing in the darkest recesses of my soul, I finally mustered up the courage to roll over on my stomach, bow my head, and clasp my hands together. My head drooped in shame as I muttered one of the simplest prayers I have ever said in my life, "Dear Lord, please help me. Please, please help me." The words had barely left my mouth, when I felt the tender embrace of my Savior. I had expected to feel more shame when I prayed, but instead I felt the pure and infinite love of God himself. The anguish in my heart was replaced with hope.  He was there for me, and I knew it. He loved me in my broken state. He loved me despite the many mistakes I had made and he would continue loving me as I made mistakes in the future. Up to this point in my life I had believed I was too broken to be truly loved by God. I had thought that he would only love me once I perfected myself enough. It was as if I believed there was some check list I must mark off and then I would be truly worthy of his love. This simple prayer, in my darkest hours, changed EVERYTHING. 

I didn't have all my beliefs figured out at this point, but I KNEW with everything in my soul that I had a Savior. I knew that the Atonement was absolutely a real, tangible gift that he had given me. I knew he had felt all the anguish that I had ever experienced and that he had been there with me through ALL of it. I knew I had a partner and I knew he would never leave me. I knew that his love for me was not dependent on anything other than that I was his creation. Nothing could change that. I knew that the Lord does not work in shame, but in hope. I knew that I would never be perfect, and that the Lord intended it that way--for if perfection were possible I would have no need of a Savior. I did need him. I needed him desperately. I will always need him, every day of my life. Everything I am, I owe to him. I see him, as he is, in all his glory. I see that he, God himself, trembled in pain and agony for my sins. I love him, oh how I love him. He is my rock, my guardian, my protector. And, on that fateful day when I am called home I will kneel at his feet in awe and gratitude of all that he is and all that he has done for me. 

Stepping Out of the Treatment Bubble

OVERWHELMED... that word doesn't even begin to describe how I felt leaving treatment and returning to my old life. I had naively thought that the only thing that would actually change would be my eating disorder. These experts were going to cure me and then my life would go on the way it always had. This thinking could not have been more WRONG. The broken girl who had walked through those treatment doors two months earlier was gone. She had changed to her very core and knew that reverting back to her old way of life would inevitably lead her back to an eating disorder. What do you do when you have become a completely new person, but no one around you has changed? What do you do when you reunite with family and friends and they expect the same person to come back into their lives? I didn't know. I had no answers. I was terrified. All I knew is that I was committed to my recovery and I would do whatever it took to stay healthy.

In the days before leaving the Center for Change, I had written an extensive relapse prevention plan. All throughout treatment, we had been taught what to do when we have a lapse. For anyone not familiar with this term, a 'lapse' is more like a temporary set back rather than a full return to your addiction. It was almost expected that everyone leaving treatment would eventually have a lapse or even several lapses, but that did not mean they had to RE-lapse. Being taught this concept has been absolutely ESSENTIAL to my recovery. Before treatment, I had constantly tried to stop my eating disorder behaviors. Often times I did stop them, for a short time, but the moment I made a mistake I would be right back in the thick of it. One major element of my relapse prevention plan was to never hide my eating disorder behaviors EVER AGAIN. The promise was that if I had a lapse I would tell someone within 24 hours. This promise has never been broken, and it has saved me many times.

I also spent a considerable amount of time writing out all of my 'triggers.' These were things that brought on huge temptations to act out in my eating disorder. I was supposed to find ways to avoid triggers as much as possible, and also to deal with the ones I could not avoid. With all this preparation, I really did think I was ready to take on the world. I had no idea how sensitive I would actually end up being to my surroundings outside of those treatment walls. The Center for Change had kept me so safe, so protected. Other than a few day passes, I had not been in the outside world for two months. I felt almost alien in the simplest of settings (like a grocery store). There were triggers EVERYWHERE and I truly mean everywhere. No place was safe, not even my church. It felt like all anyone talked about was their body, weight loss, what diet they were on, etc. These were all huge triggers for me and I found myself avoiding women in general. It wasn't their fault, and I had no bad feelings toward any of them, it was just the result of the culture we live in. That was what was so difficult. My mind had been filled with this wealth of knowledge about the problems in our culture, but I did not know how to share it with those around me. I tried to, but not effectively. I was too over zealous about it and people were turned off. This led me to the decision to just be grateful for my own knowledge and my new life, and only talk about these things when someone asked. I felt very alone, and longed to be back in the safe bubble of the treatment center. My outpatient treatment continued for several years, but it was not the same. I remember not wanting to leave my therapist's room when the time was up. Just being inside of that building made me feel safe. I didn't know how to move on with my life.

On top of everything else, I was trying so hard to apply the principles of intuitive eating in my life. I plan to share these principles on my blog in the future, but the basic concept is to rely on the body's intuitive ability to crave what it needs. The book also discusses, at length, the damaging effects of dieting on the body and mind. In the beginning of this process, I found myself bingeing on a regular basis. So many nights I would lay in my bed, holding my bloated stomach, willing myself not to throw up, and just sobbing. It was a painful process, but I always took my thoughts back to my dietitian's promise to me that it would work, that I wouldn't always have this desire to binge, that I could have peace with food, and that my body would stay at a weight that was right for me. I had believed her, trusted her, and that trust has paid off  in ways that I could have never imagined.

In treatment I had truly found myself, but being back in my old life made me feel lost. I constantly felt like I was letting everyone down, that they all had loved the 'old' me and didn't know what to do with this 'new' Alicia. Looking back, I know many of these feelings were in my own head, and that it was me that pushed people away because I was scared. My relationships, with the friends I loved so much, were damaged and it took years to heal them. It took years for me to see that maybe, just maybe, these people would actually accept me just the way I am.

My Safe Haven: The Center for Change

I spent two full months in the inpatient unit at the Center for Change. Two months may not seem like a long time, but when you consider how intensive the inpatient program was and how much I CHANGED, it alters your perception of that time frame. My days were filled with every type of therapy you can imagine. We had individual therapy, group therapy, 12 step group, body image group, art therapy, music therapy, recreational therapy, body movement group, life skills classes, intuitive eating classes, and regular meetings with registered dietitians. On top of that we were given regular reading and writing assignments that forced us to probe deep into our core issues. It was exhausting, not just because of how busy we were, but because of the sheer emotional energy it required. 

The strict rules at the Center for Change made it nearly impossible to practice your eating disorder in any form. You were constantly monitored by care techs who called you out on any eating disorder behaviors. The program centered around reaching different phases. Each time you progressed to a new phase, you were given more freedom and privileges. If I remember right, phase 4 was the highest level you could reach (you got to flush your own toilet in this phase!) You had to prove yourself ready for each phase by presenting to the group why you thought you were ready, and then there would be a group vote.  Meal time was pretty hilarious, because there were so many rules that you couldn't even remember all of them, and the care techs were constantly getting after us. There was one care tech we endearingly referred to as "hawk" because she saw EVERYTHING and didn't let us get away with ANYTHING. We were not even allowed to talk about the food we were eating, so we often played games (like 'would you rather...?') during the entire duration of the meal.

Treatment was HARD, to say the least. I spent countless hours in therapy dealing with all of the issues that I had worked so hard to run from. That's the thing about eating disorders-they mask what the real problem is. You take away that mask, that coping mechanism, and the real problems come to the surface. I had gone from being completely disassociated from my emotions, to facing them constantly. Although treatment was hard and emotionally draining, it was also wonderful and life-changing. The real me started to emerge. The women I was surrounded by became my kindred spirits and angels. I experienced a genuine connection with them that I had never experienced before. They knew my darkest secrets and I knew theirs. We came from all walks of life and ranged in ages from young teenage girls to grandmothers. We had different religions, philosophies, and backgrounds-but none of that mattered. We were sisters. My heart will always be connected to these women, and nothing will ever change that. It was like we were stripped of all the labels the world uses to define people and we saw only the person as they truly were. We understood each other, the way no one else did.

Not only was I deeply connected to the patients there, but I became extremely close with the wonderful staff. When I was a patient, the Center for Change was in its early years. It was much smaller than it is now, with only 16 beds. This enabled me to get to know all the therapists, nurses, care techs, and dietitians on a deeper level. Genuine love and compassion exuded from these individuals and I will be forever grateful to all of them. The Center for Change will always hold a very special place in my heart and it was so incredibly difficult to say goodbye.

What is an Eating Disorder?

I figured that one of my first posts should shed a little light on what eating disorders actually are. I am sure that most people reading my blog have at least some knowledge of eating disorders, and maybe know someone that has suffered from one. My hope is to help you understand what it truly is like to have an eating disorder, and to maybe clear up some common misconceptions. The National Eating Disorder Association (NEDA) recognizes 4 types of eating disorders. They are: Anorexia Nervosa, Bulimia Nervosa, Binge Eating Disorder, and Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified (EDNOS). In the depths of my eating disorder, I suffered from both Anorexia and Bulimia, but identified more as a Bulimic. Early on in my recovery I also struggled with Binge Eating. Therefore, I have had first hand experience with 3 major forms of eating disorders.

Eating Disorders are a Form of Addiction
According to the NEDA website, The following patterns are shared between eating disorder sufferers and other addicts: "loss of control, preoccupation with the abused substance, use of the substance to cope with stress and negative feelings, secrecy about the behavior, and maintenance of the behavior despite negative consequences." Eating disorders also have a relapse rate comparable to other addictive substances, and many eating disorder sufferers struggle with some other form of substance abuse.

There is no doubt that I had a full fledged addiction. I couldn't stop what I was doing, no matter how hard I tried. It progressed to a point where it consumed all my thoughts and it was all I cared about. In the depths of it, I was purging up to 15 times a day. My eating disorder was kept secret from everyone for almost 5 years, until I got so sick that I could not keep up the facade. I had literally destroyed my body and my spirit through my actions. I reached a point of numbness, in which I didn't have to feel anything. Much of my treatment was similar to treatment for substance abuse. The 12 step program, which was initially created for alcoholics, has been a major component of my recovery. I continue to live by the concepts in the 12 steps, and I have to fight the pull of my addiction on a daily basis. I believe in the old adage, "once an addict always an addict." I don't take it to mean that addicts will always be controlled by their drug of choice, but that they will always be susceptible to relapse, and must continue to work their recovery for the rest of their lives.

Eating Disorders Have Added Complexity
Although eating disorders are a form of addiction, they contain added complexities that other forms of addiction don't have. Eating disorder sufferers cannot abstain from their drug of choice (food). Most drug treatment programs focus on abstinence. When in recovery from an eating disorder, you face your drug of choice every single day. You must partake of your drug of choice every single day and not abuse it. This could be likened to asking an alcoholic to still drink, but to do so in moderation.

Another complexity contained in eating disorders is the fact that most sufferers have extremely distorted body image. They see flaws that are not truly there and many have the severe psychological disorder known as Body Dysmorphic Disorder or BDD. Society and media also play a huge role in promoting distorted body image. We are fed countless images of 'flawless' digitally enhanced photos every day. I plan to delve very deeply into the topic of body image and the media on my blog in the future.

Eating Disorders Have Nothing to do With Vanity
On the surface, an eating disorder may appear to be all about a person trying to be thin and pretty, but it goes so much deeper than that. This is what my eating disorder was for me:

• It was an escape that I used to numb out the inner turmoil I was feeling
• It was a type of self-punishment for the shame I carried with me
• It was symbolic of my desire to 'disappear'
• It was a slow form of suicide
• It was an attempt to have some control in a world where I felt I had none
• It was a way to hide the horrible person that I thought I was
• It was a shameful secret 'friend' who was always there for me
• It was a form of self medication for depression and anxiety
• It was my addiction and it almost killed me

An Intro to my Blog

How the idea came about... 

The idea for this blog came to me almost 6 years ago, shortly after the birth of my sweet baby girl. I knew as her mother I would have to be a warrior against the damaging effects society has on women. I knew I would need to teach her all that I had learned through recovering from an eating disorder. I knew I would need to be an example to her of a woman that accepts her own body. I knew I would need to teach her to value herself for who she is and to love her body, as she grew up in a society that teaches the exact opposite. All of this weighed heavily on my mind and heart. I felt strongly that I needed to make a record of the lessons I have learned, not only for her but for other women in my life. A blog was obviously the easiest way to do that. It has taken me almost 6 years to actually act on the idea. It is an extremely scary thing for a private person like me to put myself out there in this way. I hope that I can share my messages in an effective and clear manner, and that I can somehow help other women. Most of all, I hope my words can strengthen my daughter and my sons when they are at the appropriate age to read this blog. I love you, my sweet kids.

 A little about me and what I plan to share... 

12 years ago I was admitted to the Center for Change for a life threatening disorder. I would not be living today if I had not been sent to this amazing inpatient treatment center. I will be forever grateful to my parents for getting me this help, to the amazing staff who taught me the tools of recovery, and to the beautiful and amazing women who were in treatment with me. My recovery and treatment were multifaceted, and I hope to show all the same aspects in this blog. Some of the subjects I plan to cover are: intuitive eating, intuitive exercise, body image, distortions in the media, the diet industry, spirituality, self worth, and perfectionism. I will now take a deep breath, let go of my fear, press publish, and finally get this ball rolling.