How a gym class helped my recovery...

“You've gotta remind your brain who’s in charge.”

I have a strange relationship with The Gym.  We fell in love during my freshman year of college, when suddenly I had unlimited, free access to the campus gym at NKU.  I have this funny little disorder that makes me obsess and fixate on certain things, and since I was in the middle of a department that was already fixated on image, it was an easy thing to get into.  At first I really enjoyed it!  I would go every few days with Robyn or Seth, sweat for half an hour, and trudge back to the commons for dinner.  But before I knew it, I was addicted.  I would go every day, for an hour or two.  I would see how long I could stay on the elliptical until my vision would start to blur.  My longest was two hours.  TWO. HOURS.  That is literally so long, I have no idea how that even worked.  

One of the reasons I loved the gym during those days was the scale in the weight room.  I would go take my shoes off, step on the scale, and watch the number get lower and lower with every passing day.  It was like a drug.  

When I hit my lowest weight, I broke up with the gym.  Whenever I would go, I would see people look at me in horror (I know why now, but back then I felt like I was being bullied) and whisper.  Sometimes they wouldn’t even try to be quiet, they would just say stuff like “Jesus CHRIST she’s skeletal,” full voice.  Furthermore, it was getting harder and harder for me to get my heart rate up.  So I stopped going, opting for long walks.  I would disappear for hours, just walking around, trying to get a “work out” in.  This was a habit I kept up until I started treatment.

It was a while before I got myself back in a gym.  It was equal parts triggering and depressing for me to be inside of one.  First of all, there are mirrors everywhere.  Second of all, when you’re on a machine, you’re alone with your thoughts - bad self talk and all.  I joined a gym in St. Pete and the first few times I went were torture.  I thought about cancelling my membership, but I pushed through it.  I closed my eyes everytime I passed by a mirror.  I figured out how to do it without hating myself, and working out felt good.  And then in July, on a complete whim, I started going to a group class.

I had never done anything like that before.  The gym was always alone time for me, special time where I could tune in to my disorder and push myself.  But before I knew it, I was smiling and laughing along with the people in the class.  I was listening to my instructor, instead of the voice in my head who doesn’t really know...anything.  I wasn’t spending hours on an elliptical, just trying to burn as many calories as possible.  Instead, I was doing all sorts of movements, punching, kicking, working muscles I didn’t even know I had.  I was watching myself in the mirror and not grimacing.  Furthermore, the class is only 30 minutes, three times a week.  It keeps me accountable so that my gym time doesn’t get out of hand.   I have no idea if I have lost any weight since I started going (I don’t do the scale thing anymore) but the crazy thing is that I don’t care.  I go because it’s fun. I go because it’s not a chore; I genuinely enjoy doing the workouts Jamarcus creates for us. I go because it has worked wonders for my aggression.  I go because I’ve made friends there.  I go because it’s 30 minutes where all I have to think about is the music and the movement.  

So what is the point of this post?  Well, I say it all the time, but this is a story about how recovery doesn’t end!  I had made peace with the fact that I would never do a group class, that I would never watch myself in a mirror, that I would never just throw on a sports bra and walk around in it.  And I was okay with all of those things.  But then...suddenly...I was able to do all of those things, and more. It’s a reminder to be kind to yourself, but never stop challenging yourself.  If you are currently IN TREATMENT: LISTEN TO YOUR TREATMENT TEAM.  Please don’t go hit the gym because of this post.  I was fully restored and in good health before I started going again.  I took a very long break from it, and that was the best thing for me.  Do what is right for you!!  Exercise addiction is a very real thing and should not be normalized.  Please reach out to me if you feel like it’s something you’re struggling with!

I don’t think that going to a gym class has to be a part of everyone’s story.  But I’m glad it’s (finally) a part of mine.

Peace, Love, and Punching Bags,

KT  

A Practice in Apathy

Even if you just follow me on social media, you have probably gleaned the fact that I am anything but apathetic.  I’m not a casual friend, or a casual fan, and I think that level of passion for people and things that I love is important and makes me who I am. It’s something I really pride myself in.  So when I was in the throes of recovery and my therapist told me to do a practice in apathy, my entire being bristled.  I’m not apathetic!  Apathy is everything I hate about the world!  I’m in it to win it!!

But, as everything in recovery proved to be, it was not as simple as that.  This was a kind of indifference I would learn to accept, and frankly would change the entire game for me.  It is still something that I practice, because without it, I probably would have just quit.

But...I’m not a quitter.

Everything changed for me when I began being apathetic about the way I looked.  A lot of you reading this have probably known me for a while.  You know that I don’t wear make up and I don’t brush my hair and I still wear clothes from the little boy’s section in Target.  You know that in high school I was never well dressed or put together.  You know that in college I wore dance clothes all day or a hoodie and jeans.  You probably know that I HATE the idea of someone else straightening my hair or doing my make up...the list goes on and on.  So even I sometimes look back at the disorder that held me in it’s clutches, one that is usually associated with looks, and am confused as to how I got to where I was.  But then of course I remember that that is not what anorexia is about in the first place, and even I am falling victim to society’s perception of the thing I know better than most people.  

Because I am the passionate, go-getter individual that I am, when I started recovery I set a very high goal for myself.  I remember saying the words out loud to my therapist.  “I am going to love my whole self, 100% of the time.”  She laughed at me.  She literally laughed, and said, “that’s an impossible goal, Katie.  I’m not letting you set that.”   I was angry at her for doubting me.  Hey, you barely even know me!!  You don’t know what I’m capable of!  But it’s true...I would be disappointed every single day when I woke up and looked at myself in the mirror and didn’t fall in love with the broken, changing girl in front of me.  She was trying so hard.  

But then, I decided to practice apathy.  What if I didn’t set out everyday to love my entire self?   What if I set out, instead, to just not care?  I wasn’t put on this earth to be skinny.  I wasn’t put on this earth to be beautiful.  So what if...what if I just didn’t care?  And in that moment, something clicked.  It was like I was finally seeing the whole point of recovery, and body positivity, and self love.  It’s not about saying “I’m beautiful the way I am.”   It’s about saying “I exist.  I am here, and that’s an amazing thing.  I’m allowed. No matter what.”  

This practice bled over to other aspects of my life.  I started not caring about people’s perception of me as a whole, not just my looks.  I started not caring about loving things out loud.  I started not caring if people didn’t like the things I liked, or made fun of the music I listen to.  I started not caring that I took up space, that my laugh literally echoes off of buildings because it’s so loud, that my hair is never neat, and that sometimes I take stuff to the extreme.  These may all seem like very elementary lessons, but you’d be surprised how hard they are to fully embrace.  I still have trouble  But there just comes a point where you can’t care anymore.  Life is too short, and way too wonderful. I could very easily get wrapped up in the fact that I am literally twice the size I used to be, or that I don’t get cast anymore, or that I don’t get complimented on my looks very often, because that’s what this weirdo society wants me to focus on.  But instead...I just don’t really care anymore.  I exist.  I’m allowed.  No matter what.

I don’t expect you to wake up one day and be like “wow, KT was right.  I don’t care anymore!  I’m free!!” because that’s not how life works.  I also don't expect this to fix all your problems. It's one very small puzzle piece in the whole picture. It’s a practice, not a performance.  I still have trouble with it, because I’m human, and so are all of you.  It’s not easy.  It’s work!  But, it really does make a difference, little by little.   And if you’re struggling with where to start, message me, or text me, or comment on this post and I will tell you all the things I love about you that have nothing to do with how you look.  I’m sure there are at least a hundred.  

You exist.  You’re allowed. No matter what.

Peace, Love, and Orange Juice,

KT