Perfectionism: An Eating Disorder's Bestfriend

A few days ago I listened to this Ted Talk by Brene Brown (It is awesome, I would definitely recommend watching it). She starts off by talking about the "vulnerability hangover" she experienced after her last time doing a Ted talk ( Her original Ted talk was amazing too. Here is that one) and telling the audience about a breakdown she had once gone through. Listening to this brought me to an 'aha!' moment. I realized that this is exactly what I have been experiencing the last few weeks...a vulnerability hangover. You see, I've been avoiding my blog lately and every time I have thought about writing another post, I get major anxiety. In 2 months time, I have shared some of the most private and intimate and dark parts of my soul on a public blog, a PUBLIC BLOG! I've shared things that even some of my closest friends didn't know. It has been both wonderful and terrifying. I have had moments of feeling so free, and other moments of wanting to pull the blankets over my head and never show myself to the world again. Being vulnerable and opening up to others has always been a struggle for me, and maybe sharing so much in such a short time was 'too much too soon.' I don't know. I do know that I want to continue my blog. I do know that I don't want to forget why I started this blog in the first place    to share my life lessons with my own children. My hope is that putting myself out there in this way has helped others in some small way. If so, then all the anxiety and discomfort of being so vulnerable is worth it. The ironic thing about my post today, is that it is about 'perfectionism.' I have known that I was going to write about this topic since I first started the blog, but part of the avoidance in writing the last couple weeks is that I wanted to write this post perfectly. I have been grateful for all the positive responses I have received in regards to my blog and my writing, but I have realized that my perfectionist mind has led me to believe that every post I write must garner the same response. That I must live up to the compliments people have given me. I recognize the fallacy in this, and that is why I forced myself to sit down today and just start writing. So, now after that rambling introduction, I present you with my imperfect post on perfectionism:

When I left college to go to treatment, and word began to spread that I had an eating disorder, many people in my life were shocked. I can't tell you how many times people  told me that I was the last person in the world they would think to have an eating disorder. They would say, "but you're so confident." After all, I was the girl that had it all together. I was the straight 'A' student, the athlete, the goofy girl who wore silly outfits, the 'perfect' mormon teenager. I didn't swear, drink, or do drugs. My room was obsessively organized. I wanted to be the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect friend. I'm not telling you this to brag, there is nothing to brag about here. This drive to do good in my life did not come from a healthy place. It came from a very sick place, from a place of deep self-hatred. What I presented to the world was not real. While people thought I was the 'perfect' teenager, I was behind closed doors purging 15 times a day and cutting myself with razor blades. I wore a perfectly crafted 'mask' that I felt I could never, ever take off. If people saw what was behind that mask, the jig would be up. They would see the 'horrible' person I thought I was.

I did recognize that people around me weren't perfect and that they didn't need to be for love and acceptance. For some reason, I believed the same rules didn't apply to me. In my mind there was something inherently wrong and bad about me. My obsessive drive to be perfect came from the false belief that I had to 'make up' for being so bad and so wrong. This disease of perfectionism entangled itself to every area of my life, nearly suffocating me to death. Nothing I did was ever good enough. I graduated high school with a 3.97 GPA, and I was ashamed of that because it wasn't a perfect 4.0. With the same token, I could look at others with much lower GPA's and think how accomplished, intelligent, and wonderful they were. I believe the difference between a healthy drive to succeed and perfectionism lies in the motivation. My motivation was in seeking the self worth, the acceptance, and the love that I felt I was not worthy of. It can be a dangerous thing to tie your self worth to your accomplishments. To change the way I had viewed myself for so long required a massive paradigm shift. This post describes the beginnings of that shift.

Once I realized my Heavenly Father and my Savior accepted and loved me just the way I was, it opened my eyes to the fact that others might do the same. Much of my treatment was focused on getting to a place of self acceptance and self love. The women I lived with for 2 months helped me to see that I could take off my mask and be vulnerable and share my weaknesses and still be loved. Not just be loved, but experience human connection like I never had before. When you wear a mask you can't ever truly connect with the people around you. When I took off that mask I also realized that my weaknesses were their weaknesses. None of them were perfect, and it was actually all their imperfections, their humanness, that made me love them so much. The joy of realizing that I didn't have to meet some criteria to be worthy of love from God and love from others is indescribable. It was as if I had broken free from heavy chains that had tied me down for so long. I was still a very driven person, but now my drive came from knowing that I was worth all of the success, happiness, and accomplishments this world had to offer.

My desire to follow the Savior no longer came from fearing his judgement, or because I needed to earn his love. I knew that his love was always there for me no matter what. Instead, I began to follow him because I loved him. I finally realized that I was okay exactly as I was. Let me say that again...I was okay exactly as I was. These are simple truths that I have to remind myself of on a regular basis. My perfectionist mind always finds a way to creep back up on me, immediately causing unhappiness in my life. It has been that perfectionist mind that has brought about anxiety concerning this blog. The thoughts arise that this blog isn't good enough, I'm not helping enough, I'm not posting enough, my grammar isn't perfect enough, etc, etc, etc. The results of this type of thinking always lead to giving up. A major component of perfectionist thinking is this idea that everything is all or nothing, black or white. You can never live up to expectations so why even try? Perfectionism is extremely defeating and we live in a culture that spreads it like wildfire.

Now, does letting go of perfectionist ideas mean to stop setting goals and stop trying to better ourselves? No, of course not. Joy can be found in putting ourselves out there and pushing ourselves beyond what we thought we could be. The change is in the motivation. The paradigm shift I experienced was a change from this mindset:  "I have to do better because I am not good enough," to this mindset, "I can do better because I am good enough." Sometimes changing our thinking is as simple as taking out all the 'shoulds' and 'have tos' and replacing them with 'cans' and 'want tos.' I have also worked very hard at letting go of my extreme fear of failure. The truth is, when I look back at my life, it is my failures that have taught me the most about myself, about others, and about my Savior. One of the books I read in the Center for Change was called, Feel the Fear and do it Anyway. The title of the book became quite the catch phrase in treatment, and I probably heard it at least daily. It is something I still tell myself today. This phrase actually played a big part in helping me gather up the courage to start this blog. I will use it again to allow myself to publish this imperfect post about perfectionism. A post that I haven't obsessively proof-read a million times. A post that shows how imperfect I really am. A post that leaves me open and vulnerable to the judgement of others. A post that may or may not resonate with others. Yep, feel the fear and push publish anyway...

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.