An anonymous message sent to nodietedrecovery asked about the function of a restrictive ED being triggered by manic periods of bipolar disorder and positive feelings rather than shame/distress and then more recovered behaviors or higher intake in depressive periods. Obviously, I don't care about their response, because it's the same old shit, but the ask did get me thinking.
I don't have bipolar, but I could relate! In the 15 years between severe AN/forced recovery and these recent good months, I do feel like my relapses, especially the big ones, came on in higher energy, higher confidence times.
First relationship gave me butterflies, and it wasn't "for him," just that I felt happier than I had since the hospital. Starting college was exciting! And I wasn't home with my family, so I could restrict how I wanted. First job out and living independently felt awesome! Plus, a coworker there was losing weight (went from obese to regular overweight very healthily). Then a move to a big city! In an apartment with a gym and a nicer job! Middle of grad school was going well, time to restrict again, right?
That ask reminded me how my relapses, which varied in severity, were usually not motivated by shame or distress. When I was in a good mood, I felt confident enough to attempt weight loss. Unhealthy weight loss, that is, because my methods and goals were disordered. It might've been a look at my weight that inspired it, but it was those high feelings that made me feel like I was capable of being severe like I was at 14-15. I didn't want to get quite as low as I had been, but pretty low. And pretty fast. It wasn't really "I hate myself and will punish myself with restriction" so much as "I'm amazing! I can do anything! I can get to underweight or even severely so if I try!" The high mood made it easy. I also distracted myself and dampened my appetite with drugs. I glamorized and romanticized it to myself.
My periods of recovery came with more shame. Sometimes, early on, it was shame at not actually being able to restrict like I used to while remaining functional and simply giving up. One time, it was shame at how I looked. I was barely underweight then, but a hard acid trip and look in the mirror shook me out of it. For once, I felt skeletal in a bad way. The time after that, recovery was more genuine and health-conscious, but still very low effort. I just got bored and tired of anorexia. It felt pointless; I couldn't do it in a way that resulted in actually liking my body, so I shouldn't bother. Still felt bad about myself, though. Those "recoveries" came from low moods, lack of confidence, and feeing powerless or unworthy of self-love.
And all that has only highlighted for me how different the past year has been from all that. Last August was one of very few times I've wanted to lose weight because of genuine dissatisfaction with my body and sadness more than "treating myself" with weight loss. It wasn't super healthy last fall, but it was different. Feeling down contributed to me not trying as hard, doing it more slowly. And I think that set me up well for the shift in Februrary, when I began focusing in a healthier and happier way than ever, losing those last 10lb in what was more a regular fat cut than a relapse. I was feeling up, but it was confidence in the sense that I deserved and was capable of doing things right and building the body is always wanted rather than the confidence to get back to my old degree of illness. It's wild how people with anorexia can get trapped in that sense of pride in their sickness, but I finally found something else to be proud of!
I mean, I have a kickass life that I am very proud of. Thriving career, multiple artistic talents, great relationship, wonderful pets, etc. People have always told me I am beautiful, but I never believed it except when I was losing weight. This year, I get it! And the best part is what all this has taught me. Going slowly is good: healthier and more effective. Building muscle is attainable. Practice at hard things makes the hard things easier, and anything that seems intimidating at first can become yet another in the long list of things I'm good at if I try. Most importantly, being sick, being good at being sick, is not an achievement. Like, yes, this fitness journey fits the pattern of relapsing when I'm happy, but it effectively redirected that impulse into something actually productive, healthy, and future-oriented. This is energy that inspires me to grow beyond my past rather than go running back to it. I know I could get unhealthily thin if I wanted to, but I no longer want to. Plus, getting into a routine and choosing commitment over motivation has helped me stick to the goal instead of giving up in low times like I might've before. Also, low times just aren't as bad, because I'm taking care of myself.
