5 Years and Some Perfectionistic Pancakes
By Bridget Clawson, Guest Contributor
Five years out of Renfrew PHP as of yesterday. How did I spend it? Learning how to cook with a new member of my team, followed by a therapy session.
A friend once told me that early recovery can last up to 5 years. I scoffed and said, “Absolutely not, that’s not going to be me!” Well, here we are.
It’s been a pretty tumultuous 5 years, with the most recent slip happening only months ago. At this point in my recovery journey, I do the eating thing. I know when I’m not doing the eating thing or using whatever other maladaptive coping mechanism I have. I can analyze the whys until I’m blue in the face. I know the repercussions of my actions, and I know what my team will say to get me back on track. AND I still engage in thoughts (or behaviors) sometimes. I still have work to do, and I’m learning more and more.
Back to the cooking though. I feel like this is a level-up. I’ve stumbled my way through 5 years of therapies to exist in a relatively routine and stable place with food and exercise. Routine and stable, however, does not a life make. I can be pretty rigid. This rigidness includes, but is not limited to, constantly making excuses to eat the same “safe” things every day (because I’m eating, so it doesn’t matter), avoiding the grocery store (because I live alone and I’m usually out and about so having food in the house doesn’t make sense), figuring out meal by meal what or when I’m going to eat which usually means DoorDash or easy (because cooking for 1 is dumb). Those excuses have all served purposes in getting me to the point where I’m able to do the mental hard work to keep me better, but they have been getting old.
At almost 29 years old, I know how to follow directions. I would probably be able to scrape by learning and cooking for myself if I needed to. Adding in someone new to my team wasn’t really in my plans; however, after conversations with my therapist about how exposure to cooking was lacking in general eating disorder treatment, she had another idea. I told her there was this disconnect in the kitchen when I was trying not only to figure out what I was hungry for but also having this anxiety about having to make something out of what I had. (For example, opening the refrigerator door, looking around the cabinets, saying this is too complicated, and shutting everything, only to order pizza).
So, that’s how I ended up at my first cooking session in July with someone who knows my team pretty well. I was nervous. This person not only knows food like the back of her hand (crazy Italian), but she also knows the science behind how cooking works. “Taste this,” “smell that,” “does it taste good?”, “do you like it?” Question after question, lesson after lesson, literally using all of my senses and having to make decisions based on preference, all of this engaging with food really threw me for more of a loop than I thought.
Honestly, the least stressful part was eating the food we cooked at the end. I left and proceeded to panic because I definitely didn’t realize how big the disconnect I had with food still was.
I had my third lesson yesterday; we made eggs in all different ways (soft-boiled, poached, an omelet, frittatas, eggs benedict) and pancakes. The pancakes are what put me over the edge. I don’t love sweet breakfasts. I am usually a savory girl, and I couldn’t get the pancakes right. I kept asking if I had to make more, and she kept telling me to continue making them until the batter was gone. Some were burnt, some were undercooked, and some were messy because I couldn’t flip them correctly. Not perfect. These were not perfect, and I was having a hard time handling that. I started to get stressed, and when I get stressed, I get a little spicy, and generally, the eating disorder control thing shows itself.
It’s weird adding someone to my team at this point in the game. I feel so open and honest with the people I’ve worked with for so long; they already know the chaos. That being said, I’m at a point where I can pretty much compartmentalize the chaos and bring it out in the appropriate settings. (Sessions, alone, etc.) I also have never had to really interact with food in this way in front of anyone in a long time. I eat in front of people, sure. I’m relatively normal about it (I think). Preparing food, planning, and thinking about what and when I want to eat, I’m usually alone. She knew some of the chaos from stories, but before the pancakes, I had been relatively able to keep it together. I wanted her to think I just needed to learn how to cook; I wanted myself to think that too. That there were no rules to break, no rigidities to challenge, or any more perfectionistic chaos to deal with.
I don’t like people seeing the chaos, the rigidity, or the rules.
What’s good about 5 years’ worth of work is that I’m in a place where I know it’s better if I let all the stress out when I’m surrounded by the right people. I know I have the right people. While some players have changed over the past 5 years, I believe in the work that we are doing together. They haven’t given up on me even when I’ve begged them. And with that, they’ve gotten me to a life I never thought was possible. I even believe that I’m doing well, with perfectionistic pancakes and stressful food-shopping days notwithstanding. One day I’ll be fully recovered, that I know for sure.
Bridget leading yoga at the 2018 Philly NEDA walk.
Bridget Clawson is a registered nurse at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia and a trained yoga instructor. She is passionate about eating disorder awareness and advocacy, has been sharing her story locally both in the recovery community and in her job as well as through social media. She hopes to one day be more involved in the public health aspect of recovery and continues to get more involved. In her free time she enjoys reading books (the paper kind), going to concerts, taking naps and of course making breakfast for her dog Rocky. You can connect with her through her blog, on Instagram, or through email. She would love to hear from you!