I would love for life to be fair. For good people to get good things, and bad people to get what they deserve. But life isn't like that. Luck generally doesn't care what kind of person you are, and much of what happens to you in life is a matter of luck. Do with that what you will, but luck rarely creates "fair" situations.
It's perhaps a little infantile, but many things about my recovery seem unfair. What's been irking me lately is my supposed need to gain a few pounds even though I'm already at a healthy weight. It seems horribly unfair that my weight seems to settle naturally at the very tippy-top of what the charts say is "healthy" when lots of other people get to recover and stay thin.
It's total ED thinking, I know, but it's still true.
Which is why this blog post from Judith Beck rang true for me:
Their sabotaging thought? "It's so unfair that I can't be as thin as I want." This idea brings them significant emotional pain. Often they are preoccupied by a sense of unfairness. Instead of being proud that they were able to lose and maintain some weight loss, they feel a great injustice. "I worked so hard, and I have to continue to work just to stay at this weight [which is unsatisfactory to me.]" How sad that they feel so negatively, when to lose weight at all is such an accomplishment.
I often say to them, "Yes, you're right. It is unfair, but it seems to me like the greatest unfairness is for you to suffer for even one more day because of this terribly painful idea that you have that you have to be thinner -- an idea that makes you obsess, that makes you unhappy with yourself, that creates a negative frame of mind, that doesn't give you peace with yourself."
I often give them the following analogy: It's like someone who's a good runner who says, "I have to make it to the Olympics." He becomes obsessed with running, he's unhappy with himself, he doesn't have good peace of mind, and so on. Maybe he's a good guy and doesn't deserve to suffer, but he does suffer because he has the realistic expectation that he should be able to make it to the Olympics. And on top of it, instead of accepting the fact that he just isn't built to be a world-class runner, he's preoccupied with the idea that it's unfair, which makes him feel deprived and a little bitter and puts a negative edge on much of his day-to-day experience.
Of course, there is lots more we talk about in terms of fairness. (For example, by and large, many dieters have unfairly positive lives compared to many other people in the world.) But this initial discussion, which implies that dieters have some control over their suffering, via their thinking, is an important start.
Now, truth be told, I think the premise of her last book (which teaches you to "think like a thin person") is a little ludicrous. I'm not convinced in the slightest that thin people think differently from fat people. However, there is still wisdom in the above snippet.
Recovery isn't fair. Here's the thing: it doesn't need to be. Maybe it's not fair that I've survived long enough to work on recovery. Lots of things aren't fair, and letting just another unfair fact get in the way of my recovery seems rather petulant and childish.
This isn't to say that I've magically made peace with my weight. I haven't, not really. But I'm starting to try and make peace with knowing where it needs to be.
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