mind dump: “some minor flares of disordered eating”

If you’ve read my first book, Fuse, you know that for just over a decade of my life, I worked, in some capacity, as a personal trainer. During this time, I worked with people of all and different abilities, from 20 year olds who wanted to get snatched to 90 year olds who wanted to improve balance, strength, and ambulation, to people with mobility and cognitive disabilities. 

Last year, after reflecting on my experience working with people across many lifestyles and demographics, and after speaking with several health care professionals due to injuries and a resurgence of my eating disorder (which I tried to frame as “some minor flares of disordered eating” to avoid doing anything about it), I started the ongoing process of overhauling my exercise habits.

I no longer have a routine. I get up and do whatever my body feels like doing that day. If that’s some gentle stretching and a walk, that’s all I do. If that’s weight training, I do that. If it’s a 10 km or HIIT, I do that. If it’s nothing—absolutely fucking nothing—I do that, and try to be okay with it.

What I remember from training people the most is the people who were happiest and healthiest, especially later in life, were the ones who were simply generally active. They strength trained, sure—but not to the point of injury and just two or three times a week. (I saw so many young people—especially men—mess up their bodies for life trying to achieve some bullshit aesthetic that offers nothing in the way of longevity or functionality.) They did cardio, but it wasn’t overly long or strenuous—a light jog, biking, swimming. And the walkers—my lord, the people who walked a lot and had most of their lives were some of the healthiest older adults I’d ever seen. 

They gardened. They did yoga. They played. They spent time in nature. They ate well and happily. They didn’t necessarily have low body fat percentages. 

I recently told my doctor I’d been struggling with the invasive fixation on losing more weight. She calmly laid out all the reasons I was perfect as I was and how crucial having a fat is for women as we age. It prevents against diseases. Notably, osteoporosis. She even said that mature women who are “overweight” by BMI standards are healthier than women with less fat. 

I write this here today because I’m still struggling to deprogram my brain from decades of detrimental societal standards and mental illness run riot. I write in hope I offer perspective and solidarity to anyone else who may also be struggling. I share this picture of myself after a workout because it makes me uncomfortable to share it and that’s good. Illness can start to feel like an old friend after a while, and there’s a certain comfort in this: a comfort that makes us feel like we’re being kept safe instead of sick.