On Not Going to the Gym:
Today, I did not go to the gym. I came home from the office, where I had sat, all day, and decided to sit some more. I watched TV. I ate Chinese Food. I noticed a foot-shaped imprint in the slate tiles on my kitchen floor. I watered the plants, I opened some mail, I listened to music and put away clean laundry.
There was no reason for me not to go to the gym other than the fact that I did not feel like it. Although for many, this is an entirely common experience, for me, it still feels like cracking through plaster. The body - and the mind - relies on old tricks. We learn to handle the tasks we are presented with every day – brushing our teeth, walking to work, putting on pants – by creating models in our mind for how they are done. This is why we do not have to deliberate over the activity of starting a car or opening a door. Since we have done these behaviors many times before, our brains have created schemas, or mental models, that allow us to skip thinking about the isolated movements required to complete a task. Instead, we rely on our more subconscious memory to do it for us. These models for behavior are learned more easily in the mind of those in earlier stages of life. The older you get, the harder it is to learn new “schemas,” or to unlearn old ones. Learning new behaviors is difficult; unlearning behaviors is harder.
I had an eating disorder. It was coupled with an exercise addiction. When I was learning the behaviors associated with my eating disorder, I learned what worked and what didn’t to accomplish the goals I had set for myself; eat as little as possible, work out as much as possible. When I was hungry, I put on workout clothes and headed to the gym. When I got back, I usually wasn’t hungry anymore. When I was left alone, I could work out for as long as I wanted and eat whatever I wanted, and no one would know or bother me. When I went to the gym or went for a run, I felt good. When I ate more than my allotted (read: minimal) amount, I felt bad. Through the repetition of these behaviors and feelings, I learned. I created mental schemas. I learned and behaved and repeated for 5 years, until this spring, when I decided that enough was enough. I came to the conclusion that I no longer wanted to be sick, and that I could not unlearn my learned behaviors on my own.
After roughly 4 and one half months of every level of treatment, including a 1-month stay at a residential eating disorders treatment facility in Massachusetts, I am now what many would call “recovered.” I no longer exercise obsessively. I no longer ritualistically under-eat. I am at a healthy weight, and quite happy about it. I have rediscovered a passion for ice cream, my nails grow at a normal pace, and I can confidently say I am no longer afraid of food. All that being said, I’m not done. I am nowhere close to being done.
To make a maybe predictable and definitely overused food metaphor, I am not yet fully cooked. If I were the orange yogurt loaf cake I baked last night, one could stick a toothpick in me and find undercooked residue apparent on the bottom of the removed toothpick, regardless of the apparently hardened and golden brown crust. All of the evidence is there, and obvious, but I may need a few more minutes.
It turns out that unlearning behavior is really, really difficult. I did not go to the gym today, but my eating disorder was not happy about it. In fact, I am writing this essay to for the exact purpose of quieting the voice scolding me for my lazy, lovely afternoon. I was alone today, and had done very little. Tuesdays are usually the nights I go to my kickboxing classes, one sanctioned alongside 2 other weekly workouts by my treatment team. When finally medically cleared to begin exercise again after 3 months of nothing more strenuous than walking, I was elated. Regardless of my abusive relationship with exercise and the gym, athletics and fitness have always been a part of my life and I was thrilled to have them back. My re-entry into the fitness world was slow, and painful, but very enjoyable. It feels great to be strong again. What that medical clearance came with, however, was a promise to myself that I would be in control this time, that I would not let this grow into anything more than something I did to make me feel good, not something I did to assuage any outside forces. So this past week, when my nutritionist told me that I was once again allowed to exercise 3-4 times a week, I met the news with some trepidation. Would I hear that same voice of obligation? More importantly – would I listen to it?
I did not feel like going to my kickboxing class today. In fact, I felt like doing very little, other than sit on my couch and watch TV. Once I no longer felt like doing that, I got up and did something else. That is the golden brown crust. The gooey inside is what I will feel tomorrow if I don’t have any time to exercise. The gooey inside is the whispers I will hear when lying in bed tonight. It’s guilt and shame for having the thoughts at all, confusion as to why they still exist, frustration at how bad it still feels, even as I run my hands over the thinning hair my battle left me with, the scars on my ankles, the crooked feet.
Unlearning behaviors is difficult. In this case, it took me 5 years of repetitive activity and learned convictions to create my habit. I have my fingers crossed that it will not take me those same 5 years to unlearn these habits and break the chains they left me with. However, if it turns out that that is what it takes – if it takes walking backwards over 5 years worth of footsteps to find myself back at where I want to be, then sign me up. I’m in it for the long haul. If you will excuse the predictable and overused food metaphor, I will leave fully baked. And delicious.