Navigating the world while recovering from an eating disorder is tricky. Some pieces are CLEARLY tricky: when diet culture is constantly inviting you back into sickness, when advertisers bank on activating insecurities, when hustle culture applauds working through lunch.
These are challenges I am aware of, and can more-or-less cushion against. Part of my brain remembers that it’s manipulation, that these distractions rob me of my power. I can put on my battle gear for that and face the day prepared.
But sometimes there’s a sneak attack. The darker sections of my mind will suddenly spring forward without any warning.
I’m a performer, currently with Shakespeare Napa Valley. We’re doing 12th Night and it’s been an absolute dream. When the measurements appointment happened, I was really impressed with my own growth and humbled by some of my own slips/regressions in the way I talked about my body in the costume shop.
At our first dress rehearsal, one of the garments got stuck on my upper arms.
I panicked.
There was no logic involved, I let my passion sway, not my reason! It was a purely visceral reaction complete with a PTSD flashback to years ago and getting stuck in a costume and shamed for it.
I couldn’t breathe, I wasn’t in my body, it was completely overwhelming.
The SUPPORT I received in that moment was beyond description.
A casemate saw the panic and struggle in my face as I fought back tears and asked if I was okay. “No,” I admitted.
“Would you like some water?”
“Yes please.”
They were so gentle and respectful, not inflammatory or dramatic. And I was proud of my honesty and my willingness to accept help.
Then the embarrassment set in. For my outburst, for what it revealed about me. And then, more kindness came my way.
Without meeting my chaos, the costumer said “There’s nothing wrong– there’s nothing wrong with your body, there’s nothing wrong with your arms. You are beautiful, and if this is a problem, we can let out the seams.”
And of course, once I got my breath back and out of panic mode, the garment shifted and suddenly it DID fit. Just like Bethany said it would. I didn’t feel strangled. And most importantly, I started to come back into my body.
As embarrassing as it is to admit this whole episode, I wanted to share it. Because recovery is ongoing, it’s a bit of a cha-cha. And often, we don’t share the back-steps. But they are part of the dance.
Not only are they part of the dance, they are INTEGRAL to healing and growth. You can’t go forward if you haven’t gone back. It gives us momentum.
I’m practicing viewing this week’s episode as GROWTH. As an indication of the shift of my awareness and willingness to admit my imperfections, to accept help, and to stop beating myself up for being a human and having a vulnerable moment.
So maybe it wasn’t a relapse or a regression. Maybe it was a progression. Evidence of my ability to make mistakes and take the course correction.
Going into opening night I am filled with gratitude for all the amazing humans who have come together to CREATE something. To build each other up and hold space for the tumbles.
I am playing the Lady Olivia, and it has been no small journey to get myself into the headspace to be ‘the most beautiful woman in Ilyria.’ To feel worthy of the beautiful language and speeches directed at me, to receive the poetry.
But we’re here. And I am beyond grateful. I’ve wanted to work with this director for years, and it has been such an incredible treat. I feel held and seen and supported, not coddled. I feel safe and free and loved. What else could we hope for?
Take care of yourselves, dear ones. And take care of each other. And LET others take care of you, too. We’re hurling through space and time together.
xox
Pretty Good Ugly 