Assignment: "I'd like yu to begin your paper by taking one of Thoreau's aphorisms and apply it to your life. Spend the next five to six pages riffing on this phrase as the mandate for your life. As you describe the way you live now, and/or have lived, your values and pleasure, punishments and defeats, take into account the literary acts of self-creation we've read."
My paper: (I will absolutely return the favor of any feedback!)
"I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life." -Thoreau
I had spent the better half of my life worshipping a debauch god. He proposed a way of living, like a set of Ten Commandments that if followed would bring happiness and fulfillment. I was so desperate for salvation from the cell of self-hatred that had jailed me in, that I worshipped him whole-heartedly. I thought his rules would free me. 1. Lose weight (although you are not overweight to begin with). 2. Exercise incessantly (exhaustion is not an excuse). 3. Count calories (keep the consumed count close to zero). 4. Burn calories (all). 5. Weigh yourself (that number defines your worth). 6. Do not eat with anyone (you look like a pig). 7. Skip breakfast (you are not hungry). 8. Skip lunch (you do not need that food). 9. Eat an apple (call it dinner). 10. Lie (no one will understand). I cherished these rules like they were sacred and my every thought was consumed by trying to perfect their execution.
Time meshed us into one person. I could not decipher which thoughts were mine and which thoughts were his. If the forbidden act of eating anything of substantiality was committed he gave me a way to correct myself - a place of refuge where I could find renewal. I visited this place weekly, like a catholic goes into a confessional to purge themselves of sins. I knelt down at its base in the hopes of gaining peace of mind. The embrace of its white porcelain curvature filled my need for acceptance. I tried to keep from visiting too often, but that toilet constantly beckoned me back and I could not resist the opportunity for the fresh start of an empty stomach.
I had become so immersed in this lifestyle that before I knew it, I knew nothing else. I could not remember a time when my fear of food and fat did not control every waking and sleeping moment of my mind. As uncomfortable as it was, it was familiar, and sickeningly comfortable. Like Mary Rowlandson's relationship with her master, despite his cruel mistreatment, he took care of her at times. In times of his absence, her "spirit was quite ready to sink". Her master had become familiar, and because of that, he was trustworthy. The thought of trying to rebel against the destructive rules and voices of the anorexia that had captured me seemed an impossible feat. I felt trapped and like any attempts to break out of the entrapment of self-starvation I had become enslaved to would result in failure. I had been swept away by an undercurrent of hopelessness, self-destructive behaviors, corrupt negative thoughts regarding myself, and I was drowning in all of it.
Life within the wilderness of anorexia caused me to stare death head on. I knew if I didn't change my lifestyle then I would die. The physical ramifications had caught up with me and I could feel it too-my body was eating itself and I hurt all of the time. I was a walking corpse, a skeleton of a person who had shut down emotionally, and was shutting down physically as well. I was told by a professional that "once you have this disease, you will have to fight it for the rest of your life." This comment ignited a rebellious spark within me and I refused to accept that comment as truth. I wanted to live a life worth living.
My desire to live became heavier than my willingness to surrender to the death that anorexia presented, and I made the decision to seek treatment for a disease which holds the highest death rate of all mental disorders. I discovered a treatment facility which was abnormal in their philosophy in that unlike most eating disorder treatment professionals, they believed in the possibility of full recovery. I believed that if recovery meant managing symptoms and settling for mere survival then I would rather die. I wanted to be free from the destructive disease, so I embarked on the journey of recovering my life. I travelled halfway across the country for an inpatient treatment facility ready to persevere through to nothing less than full recovery.
My decision to fully recover proved to be the greatest decision I had ever made, and the most difficult challenge I had ever faced. My entire world was rocked from the moment I stepped into treatment. My entire belief system about myself was being challenged by new conflicting ideas. I was fighting against my every thought. My internal dialogue was screaming violently at me; this was all wrong! I was forced to confront myself, to speak, to partake in the forbidden act of eating, and to allow myself to be embraced by a human being for love and acceptance rather than a toilet!
I wish I could say that completely transforming your life was as simple as a single decision. It took over a decade to degenerate to my ultimate low. However, it was a single decision that propelled me to persist along the path of gaining freedom and life. I have been told by people who see pictures from my time in treatment that it "looks like I had so much fun there." The pictures depicted the strong and confident person I was becoming, rather than the anemic and insecure person I had been and I have to remind them that the camera was not present the first weeks, was not there in the therapy sessions, or at the table when mealtime was made possible only by the encouragement of someone holding my left hand while I fought against myself and ate with my right. I continuously replaced my tainted thoughts with truth over and over and over again. I feel as though Thoreau most eloquently sums up the process of reprogramming oneself by stating that "As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives."
I find it ironic that succeeding the women's movement, a time when women gained freedom and a voice for themselves, the prevalence of eating disorders and related negative thought patterns regarding femininity have increased exponentially. Blame it on fashion, media, a bad parental relationship, genetics, society, none or all of the above. The truth is, is that today, people are suffering and starving in a wilderness that defines beauty as thinness, control as self-starvation, and freedom as restricting oneself.
During a recent conversation, I was told "I'm sorry" in reference to the struggles I have faced. I quickly responded "I'm not." My experiences have enabled me to understand the indescribable value of life - to redefine beauty as diversity, control as the power to let go, and freedom as everyday life. I have been obtained a new life and I now value myself and others. I worry about sounding "cliché" when I attempt to share this feeling with people, but the truth is, I consider it a true gift when every morning I wake up to a new day not having feared the night before whether or not I would die in my sleep. This might not have been possible for me had I not walked through hard times. I deeply appreciate learning, applying myself, interaction with people, and the diversity that comes along with all of it. If spending a decade within the wilderness of anorexia gave me the genuine gratefulness I get to experience now, then I will always disagree with anyone who tells me "I'm sorry" and promptly respond "I'
My paper: (I will absolutely return the favor of any feedback!)
"I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life." -Thoreau
I had spent the better half of my life worshipping a debauch god. He proposed a way of living, like a set of Ten Commandments that if followed would bring happiness and fulfillment. I was so desperate for salvation from the cell of self-hatred that had jailed me in, that I worshipped him whole-heartedly. I thought his rules would free me. 1. Lose weight (although you are not overweight to begin with). 2. Exercise incessantly (exhaustion is not an excuse). 3. Count calories (keep the consumed count close to zero). 4. Burn calories (all). 5. Weigh yourself (that number defines your worth). 6. Do not eat with anyone (you look like a pig). 7. Skip breakfast (you are not hungry). 8. Skip lunch (you do not need that food). 9. Eat an apple (call it dinner). 10. Lie (no one will understand). I cherished these rules like they were sacred and my every thought was consumed by trying to perfect their execution.
Time meshed us into one person. I could not decipher which thoughts were mine and which thoughts were his. If the forbidden act of eating anything of substantiality was committed he gave me a way to correct myself - a place of refuge where I could find renewal. I visited this place weekly, like a catholic goes into a confessional to purge themselves of sins. I knelt down at its base in the hopes of gaining peace of mind. The embrace of its white porcelain curvature filled my need for acceptance. I tried to keep from visiting too often, but that toilet constantly beckoned me back and I could not resist the opportunity for the fresh start of an empty stomach.
I had become so immersed in this lifestyle that before I knew it, I knew nothing else. I could not remember a time when my fear of food and fat did not control every waking and sleeping moment of my mind. As uncomfortable as it was, it was familiar, and sickeningly comfortable. Like Mary Rowlandson's relationship with her master, despite his cruel mistreatment, he took care of her at times. In times of his absence, her "spirit was quite ready to sink". Her master had become familiar, and because of that, he was trustworthy. The thought of trying to rebel against the destructive rules and voices of the anorexia that had captured me seemed an impossible feat. I felt trapped and like any attempts to break out of the entrapment of self-starvation I had become enslaved to would result in failure. I had been swept away by an undercurrent of hopelessness, self-destructive behaviors, corrupt negative thoughts regarding myself, and I was drowning in all of it.
Life within the wilderness of anorexia caused me to stare death head on. I knew if I didn't change my lifestyle then I would die. The physical ramifications had caught up with me and I could feel it too-my body was eating itself and I hurt all of the time. I was a walking corpse, a skeleton of a person who had shut down emotionally, and was shutting down physically as well. I was told by a professional that "once you have this disease, you will have to fight it for the rest of your life." This comment ignited a rebellious spark within me and I refused to accept that comment as truth. I wanted to live a life worth living.
My desire to live became heavier than my willingness to surrender to the death that anorexia presented, and I made the decision to seek treatment for a disease which holds the highest death rate of all mental disorders. I discovered a treatment facility which was abnormal in their philosophy in that unlike most eating disorder treatment professionals, they believed in the possibility of full recovery. I believed that if recovery meant managing symptoms and settling for mere survival then I would rather die. I wanted to be free from the destructive disease, so I embarked on the journey of recovering my life. I travelled halfway across the country for an inpatient treatment facility ready to persevere through to nothing less than full recovery.
My decision to fully recover proved to be the greatest decision I had ever made, and the most difficult challenge I had ever faced. My entire world was rocked from the moment I stepped into treatment. My entire belief system about myself was being challenged by new conflicting ideas. I was fighting against my every thought. My internal dialogue was screaming violently at me; this was all wrong! I was forced to confront myself, to speak, to partake in the forbidden act of eating, and to allow myself to be embraced by a human being for love and acceptance rather than a toilet!
I wish I could say that completely transforming your life was as simple as a single decision. It took over a decade to degenerate to my ultimate low. However, it was a single decision that propelled me to persist along the path of gaining freedom and life. I have been told by people who see pictures from my time in treatment that it "looks like I had so much fun there." The pictures depicted the strong and confident person I was becoming, rather than the anemic and insecure person I had been and I have to remind them that the camera was not present the first weeks, was not there in the therapy sessions, or at the table when mealtime was made possible only by the encouragement of someone holding my left hand while I fought against myself and ate with my right. I continuously replaced my tainted thoughts with truth over and over and over again. I feel as though Thoreau most eloquently sums up the process of reprogramming oneself by stating that "As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives."
I find it ironic that succeeding the women's movement, a time when women gained freedom and a voice for themselves, the prevalence of eating disorders and related negative thought patterns regarding femininity have increased exponentially. Blame it on fashion, media, a bad parental relationship, genetics, society, none or all of the above. The truth is, is that today, people are suffering and starving in a wilderness that defines beauty as thinness, control as self-starvation, and freedom as restricting oneself.
During a recent conversation, I was told "I'm sorry" in reference to the struggles I have faced. I quickly responded "I'm not." My experiences have enabled me to understand the indescribable value of life - to redefine beauty as diversity, control as the power to let go, and freedom as everyday life. I have been obtained a new life and I now value myself and others. I worry about sounding "cliché" when I attempt to share this feeling with people, but the truth is, I consider it a true gift when every morning I wake up to a new day not having feared the night before whether or not I would die in my sleep. This might not have been possible for me had I not walked through hard times. I deeply appreciate learning, applying myself, interaction with people, and the diversity that comes along with all of it. If spending a decade within the wilderness of anorexia gave me the genuine gratefulness I get to experience now, then I will always disagree with anyone who tells me "I'm sorry" and promptly respond "I'
