I painted a plate a couple of weeks ago. I had a lovely time doing so with some of my fellow patients from my treatment programme. It had been a ‘mindful’ social get together where we painted a pottery item of our choice whilst chatting and incorporating our ‘prescribed’ morning snack and drink.  I chose to paint a small plate with a chocolate digestive and a jammy dodger; both iconic of my meal plan.  My intention being to take the plate with me on my imminent return to work, to be my ‘snack plate’ on which I will put real life chocolate digestives as they continue to be a staple in my diet.

A week ago I collected the plate and was thrilled to see the glazed and fired finished result.  A further enjoyable get together with fellow patients followed, as we tied the collection in with a visit to a local artisan coffee shop and once again ate our morning snack in unison, supporting each other as we made brave choices to switch meal plan snacks for something from the menu.  I went for a pastéis de nata.

Not long after I got home I smashed the plate.  It was a ridiculous freak accident where I dropped something onto the plate which just happened to be directly under what I was holding.  This bounced the plate off the worktop onto the floor where it exploded into multiple pieces.

A few months ago I would have actually run away.  I would have entered into a state of hyper-arousal and, unable to process my thoughts and feelings, I would have chosen flight as my response.  The endorphins from the run would have numbed the pain and the sense of achievement would have helped to balance the feeling of complete failure for having been so stupid. I probably wouldn’t have eaten for the rest of the day either because I wouldn’t have deserved to.  I would have needed to punish myself for my idiocy.

What I did though was to pause, albeit head in hands.  I breathed and stepped back to acknowledge my feelings and decide what I should do about them.  Yes, I wanted to run away and to punish myself, devastated that I had just destroyed a plate with so much more value than the £12 it had cost me.  Not only was the plate shattered, but so too were the warm memories from the experience of creating it.  But hang on; although the plate was in pieces, perhaps the memories could remain intact? Having used the methods I have learned to bring myself back into my parasympathetic nervous system, after a few minutes I was able to rationally decide that it was ok to be upset about the plate and actually, the real joy had come from the time spent with friends painting it and also from the occasion that we made out of collecting it.  That was what really mattered and these memories need not be trashed.

So how does this relate to anorexia?  Well by allowing myself to run away from feeling like a failure, and in punishing myself by restricting food, I would be reinforcing my core belief that I am not good enough.  This core belief triggers fear as my predominant root emotion which then drives harmful food and exercise related compensatory behaviours which lead to energy deficit and then ultimately anorexia.  Instead I was able to manage my emotional response and decide on an acceptable strategy.  I accepted the negative emotions that I was feeling, and challenged the negative automatic thoughts that I was having around feeling worthless, by acknowledging them as just thoughts.  In recognising the experiences linked to making the plate as holding greater value than the plate itself, I was ‘taking my thoughts to court’.  In choosing not to run away I was ‘acting opposite’.  This is how over time, I can change the negative core beliefs at the root of my self-destructive behaviours linked to food and exercise. 

Recovery from anorexia in the first instance is about eating food, lots of food and especially foods you fear.  In the longer term however, it is about changing rigid and harmful behaviours in all aspects of life. I am so very thankful for this knowledge.

With my rational head back on, I actually went on to calmly glue the plate back together and having further filled in the remaining missing chips, it looks almost good as new and will go on as planned, to be my snack plate at work.  Except now it’s just like me: broken but fixed (well almost).