A recent “medical leave” from dance satisfied the
suggestions of professionals that separation from the dance environment would
help me to recover from my disordered eating. I’d like to say that my doctors
told me to take some time away from dancing because I became too thin. This was
not the case. As a dancer that struggles with eating from the
binge-eating/bulimic side of things, I often feel ashamed of not being “sick
enough”. For not being good enough to really
have an eating disorder…
Two and a half months and 15 extra pounds later, no
solution to the eating disorder has emerged.
Instead, I have found myself giving in, allowing myself permission to
binge, purge, and restrict; falling into destructive, late-night behaviors with
wild friends that I can’t keep up with; and wondering why I feel lethargic,
hopeless and bloated with disgust for myself.
The exact beginning of the eating disorder
behaviors is unclear. Perhaps personality made me vulnerable: as a
perfectionist and highly sensitive individual, I always will experience life
with overwhelming intensity. I remember
feeling large as a kid, even before ballet and I were in a serious, exclusive
relationship. Once that relationship blossomed, weight and food became an
obsession. Instead of nourishing the unique set of talents that my compact,
muscular body allowed me, I gorged myself with hate for my shortcomings until I
was sick with cruelty toward myself.
College - a blizzard of bingeing, over-exercising,
restricting, laxatives, and calorie counts. On the outside I blossomed, but
inside I burned with anxious hopelessness, stuck in the eating disorder cycle.
My serious relationship shifted from being with dance to being with the eating
disorder. Somehow I finished with nearly
a perfect GPA, a job dancing professionally, and a legacy of unforgettable
performances. Yet, I was so numb to all such beauty in my life.
After college, this addictively abusive
relationship with food and my body dragged me through a turbulent first year
dancing with a mid-West ballet company. Despite my success, I remained
unsatisfied. I fled that environment, re-locating to my hometown to dance for a
contemporary ballet company. In all honesty, I returned home to search for a
solution to the eating disorder. Early into the season, I found myself bowing
out of the studio and stepping completely into the eating disorder’s arms.
Yesterday was my first class back to dancing in
months. I made this decision on my own, without the approval of my support team.
I have never been more proud. Time away from dancing has allowed me the
unexpected realization that dance itself can and must be part of the recovery process for those of us who are
dancers at heart. I had no idea that
the solution to my problem eating might lie in the movement itself.
I had no
idea that it’s not the dance world
that caused the eating disorder, but rather my own unrealistic demands for
myself within the context of this world. Once the core belief of my lack of
worth was established, it became very easy to view it as truth. It’s easy to
focus on the demanding parts of dance. However, it took a complete removal of
dance from my life for me to notice the power it instills in me: motivation,
life, strength, energy. I live as a dancer, and I can now recognize that in
order to be content, I must nourish this part of me. I feel music in my
muscles. I experience relationships as a dance of spirits. To recover, I must
move, because the dancer in me contains some of the best, most thoughtful parts
of my soul. When I dance, I’m wild, free, and compassionate. My time away from
dance has reminded me that I can be this person in all parts of my life.
Through dance, my soul sings, and it is time to allow myself to enjoy the song.
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| National Eating Disorders Awareness |
