Disordered Eating and Exercise 101: What Exactly Is it?

I am not anorexic, nor bulimic.  I eat.  In fact, I eat a lot of food that I have deemed healthy or "safe." I don't look emaciated.  My BMI falls in a healthy range with respect to my height and weight. And, nope, I don't spend 2 hours a day at the gym, but I do feel obligated to go every single goddamn day. Aside from Saturday morning yoga, I don't enjoy exercise.  When my alarm sounds at the ungodly hour of 5:04am (6:04am on my one sleep-in day during the work week), I  feel the dread immediately.  I  go to the gym with a job, an intention if you will, to burn as many calories as I can in a 45-50 minute period.  On good days, I aim for 600 calories.  If I feel especially tired, 400 to 500 will suffice.  On the off chance I attend an aerobics class, I gauge the quality of my work-out by the amount I sweat.  I realize that calorie burn calculators on gym equipment lack accuracy, and my "sweat-o-meter" is likely a flawed measure.

The simple fact that I endeavor to qualify the "quality" of my exercise reflects flawed, or disordered logic.  Here's the dirty truth: I exercise to earn the right to eat.  [Mind you, the food I eat is so far from the indulgent eating I was once so accustomed.]  I exercise for fear of gaining weight and jeopardizing all of the hard work I put into losing the weight.  Gaining weight means that the hundreds of hours I've spent at the gym and the countless times I have politely declined a piece of cake, a slice of pizza, or a hot, buttery roll [It takes every ounce of willpower I have.  In my head, I am screaming, "Yes, I want to devour you!"], a complete waste.  I'm not stupid.  I know my thinking is flawed, but it is my nature to polarize, to see the black or white, good or bad, healthy or not healthy.  I've never been able to see the "gray" in life.  I commit to something and take it to the extreme.  

Before I got on the weight loss bandwagon, my life centered around school work.  I didn't want to just be a "good" student, I wanted to be the best.  I still remember the phone call I made to my mom during the fall semester of my senior year in college.  In tears, I confessed, what at the time, was my biggest fear...this was going to be the semester I'd tarnish my 4.0 GPA.  I wanted more than anything to graduate valedictorian, and I knew that even with one A- on my transcript, any chance of earning that distinction would be lost.  Let me say on the record that my parents did not pressure me to be a straight A student.  This was a self-imposed expectation.  In fact, they would have been thrilled if I earned a "B."  I wish more than anything that I could slap some sense into my college self.  While I am proud of my collegiate accomplishments, I missed out on so much because I was completely focused on my school work.  Sense a pattern?  Four years later, and here I am scheduling my plans around my gym schedule, or declining dinner invitations for fear of veering off of my "safe" meals. This is disordered eating.

I've read a lot about disordered eating and eating disorders, and I'd argue that they are not one-in-the- same. I've spoken to professionals who would agree with those sentiments.  As is the case with any disorder, there is a continuum of behaviors and manifestations.  Anorexia, bulimia, or true binge eating are the most extreme, or profound examples.  While compulsive and, at times, extreme, my behaviors do not qualify under any of the aforementioned categories.  Is it possible that they have in the past, or could in the future?  Of course.  

Last summer, I reached my lowest weight by burning an average of 900-1100 calories a day, following a far more restrictive diet.  Hell, I was off for the summer.  What excuse did I have for not increasing the duration and intensity of my work-outs?  Fast forward a year later, and I'm trying desperately to adopt a more flexible approach to eating, but I find myself bordering on that fine line between "snacking" and "binging."  While true binge eating involves the consumption of an extreme amount of food (think an entire bag of chocolate chips, a whole pizza, a half gallon of ice cream), I find myself wanting to snack uncontrollably.  Nothing seems to satisfy my hunger due to the restrictions I have imposed upon my diet for the last 2+ years.  I'm looking to study more about the practice of intuitive eating, or eating what my body craves in order to find satiety. 

To put simply, my behaviors seem to fall under the umbrella diagnosis of EDNOS according to the DSM, or Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified.  Millions of people, particularly woman, fall under this distinction.  I hesitate to further self-diagnosis, but I also seem to present with some, but not all, signs of Orthorexia, a seemingly new disorder focusing on an obsession towards eating healthy foods.  I am by no means a  "clean" eater (i.e. I still do eat some processed foods), nor do I maintain a diary of my calorie consumption using an app like, MyFitnessPal.  However, I do see foods as healthy or unhealthy.  I think about food, namely what I will eat and when I will eat, far more than you realize.  As much as I have come to despise the gym, I feel tremendous guilt if I do not go.  When I leave the gym, literally dripping in sweat, I give myself a virtual fist pump, "See you can do it!  Aren't you proud of yourself for waking up and starting your day with a work-out?"  Exercise morphed from a place of self-care and stress management, the initial benefits I found upon beginning my weight loss journey in 2012, to a compulsion feeding (ha!) my desire for thinness and acceptance.  

If you're at all interested in learning more about Orthorexia please read Madelyn Moon's recent post here.  As a former fitness model, Madelyn subjected herself to extreme dieting and exercise in order to compete.  She has since left the industry and publishes a series of blogs and podcasts to help women, like me, develop a more normal relationship with food and exercise.  The first time I listened to her podcast, I kept thinking to myself, "She totally gets it."  By no means do I subject my body to the diet and exercise regimens characteristic of body builders, but much of my thinking and compulsions are one in the same.  One of Madelyn's most recent blog entries, How to Help Others With an Eating Disorder When You are Still Suffering, inspired me to start this blog as a vehicle to heal my relationship with food and exercise.  Again, the fact that I am "in a relationship" with food and exercise is another manifestation of disordered eating/ exercise!

I want to end this post with the following caveat, one that Madelyn so eloquently stated on her podcast 6 Things I Want You to Know About Orthorexia.  Her message just "clicked" with some of the thoughts that have been swirling in my head, but I have not been able to verbalize in a coherent manner.  I'm going to be blunt: Please do not comment on my body, my weight, or the food I eat (More to come on this in an upcoming post!).  Specifically, please do not tell me that I "look" healthy.  Here's me being completely transparent: As I have attempted to resume some normalcy in my eating habits, I have gained some weight and every single pound hurt.  There's no better way to put it.  Last week's post gave a glimpse into some of the mental anguish that comes from weight gain. So, to tell me that I look "healthy" is translated by my own warped thinking [I take full responsibility!] to mean, "I've noticed you put on some weight."  And, of course, I know that my friends and family have the best of intentions.  For those few that finally know how hard this has been, I am so incredibly grateful for your support.  I know this sounds vain and, once again, reflects my flawed thinking, but as I figure out what I need to do for myself to help heal these behaviors, I also need to differentiate between support that is helpful and that which is hindering.  

Thanks for reading and sticking with me.