Reflections on Why Pushing Through Discomfort Is Necessary

“I hope you realize that this is not the practice run, this is not the preview. This is it.”

Although there are undoubtedly many negative consequences of using social media, I also am extremely grateful for how certain online platforms have made finding mental health resources and building community more accessible. One of the best discoveries I made on Instagram this year is Brianna Wiest. As I note on my Resources page, I think that her writing is profoundly beautiful and it has transparently been a lifeline for me during the recent stages of my ED recovery. Her reminders and reflections have been particularly resonant for me over the past several months (since I've hit pause on exercising in order to really try and sever the relationship in my brain between food and movement). One of the affirmations that I have found myself coming back to over and over throughout most of my ED recovery is "Short-term discomfort for long-term growth" (which I originally got from We The Urban). ED recovery is undeniably uncomfortable - changing behaviors that I've engaged in for so many years of my life is very hard. Breaking old habits and forming new ones is challenging. Fueling my body regardless of how little I've moved that day means that I have to fight against what feels familiar and easy. If you've just begun recovering or if you've been in it for some time, you know how much physical, mental, and emotional discomfort accompanies it. I've been reminding myself, however, that even though things are hard and uncomfortable now, the work I'm putting in is going to be so worth it in the long-run. I'm fully confident that my future self will be immensely grateful for the new, much healthier behaviors that I'm engaging in, because they are ultimately setting me up to have a healthier, more balanced, and longer life. Likewise, I'm aware that continuing to over-exercise, skip rest days, and forcing myself to eat as little as possible does and will continue to have harmful and dangerous long-term consequences. Even though these disordered behaviors are comfortable to me - I've relied on them for so many years that they feel like part of my identity - I know that they will only end up hurting me as time goes on. Rather than continuing to choose the comfortable options, even though they are what feel safe and familiar, I've committed to stopping these behaviors and pushing through the discomfort in order to set myself up for a better future. The discomfort that comes along with newness is scary - I feel like my brain is shouting "Panic!" every single time I choose to do the opposite of what my ED wants. Thus, I've returned to Brianna Wiest's writing often and have found it to be enormously helpful in alleviating that sense of panic.

One of my very favorite quotes from Brianna that has been useful as I try to navigate the discomfort of this season is, "A beautiful life is not stumbled upon, it is built. It is chosen. It is nurtured over the years... A beautiful life is not one that is immediately comfortable, but one grown through the acknowledgment of what is worth being uncomfortable for. It is not one that is easy, but one that is worth it." What incredibly powerful words - and so, so applicable for those recovering from an eating disorder. Waking up every morning and actively resisting the urges to skip a meal, push my body to an extreme, eat as little as possible, dwell on how much I dislike my body and how it's changing, etc. is a choice - I'm purposefully choosing every single day to do the things necessary to build the healthy, beautiful life that I desire. I know that the life I would have created by not choosing recovery - by continuing to engage in those unhealthy disordered behaviors - would certainly not be beautiful. I've used this quote to explore what exactly a beautiful life means to me and to think through what I want my life to look like. Do I want to live with a gnawing, consistent fear in the back of my mind about my health? Do I want to live hating my body, thinking about all the things I wish I could change, pushing myself to a place of constant exhaustion? Or, do I want to live a life filled with peace and confidence that I'm doing the best things for my health every time I give my body the nutrients it needs to function properly? Do I want to live with a sense of deep gratitude and appreciation for all that my body does and how it functions as the vessel that allows me to live? I know that the life I had created and would continue to create by listening to what the ED wants ONLY leads to fear, guilt, and self-hatred. I also know that, cultivating a life filled with joy, balance, freedom, and health does not come easy - it requires my perseverance and ability to push through discomfort. I've recently asked myself, "What is worth being uncomfortable for?" Is having a beautiful, long, healthy, joyful life worth giving up familiar, comfortable habits? I think the answer is undeniably "yes."

Another one of Brianna's quotes that I feel like goes hand-in-hand with this one is, "Your new life is going to cost you your old one. It's going to cost you your comfort zone, and your sense of direction..." But, she goes, "It does not matter. All you're going to lose is what was built for a person you no longer are." So much of my identity for the past decade of my life has been deeply entangled with being as productive (physically, academically, professionally, etc.) and active as possible. While being productive and active can certainly be positive when done in a balanced way, unfortunately, so much of our culture labels things like over-exercising, dieting, constantly working and moving as evidence of being "disciplined," "highly motivated," and "hard-working." One of the trickiest parts of ED recovery for me has been combatting the voice in my head that tries to convince me that resting is a sign of laziness and is unproductive - the old me viewed any sort of break from movement and work as wholly bad. Now, I'm working on changing how I view rest and I'm learning that giving my body (and my mind) time and space to recover and heal is actually extraordinarily productive and necessary. I think that, for many people who struggle with an eating disorder and/or have a disordered relationship with exercise, choosing to rest and fuel your body appropriately actually requires FAR more discipline and hard work than working out and/or restricting food does. It's honestly much more comfortable for me to wake up, do a hard, intense workout, and skip breakfast than it is to wake up, stretch, and eat a balanced meal - furthermore, the second option triggers that voice in my head that shouts, "You're being lazy! You need to do more! Eat less! You're not being productive!" During so many moments throughout my ED recovery journey, I've genuinely felt as if I'm losing parts of myself. As I've gradually eliminated old habits and created new routines, I've had to grieve losing those parts of my life and my identity that made me feel comfortable. As Brianna's quote indicates, there have been many days where I've felt as though I've completely lost my sense of direction - so much of my life over the past decade has been centered around my food and exercise habits. BUT, I also fully believe that losing my old life in order to create a new one is a COMPLETELY worthwhile endeavor. I recognize that the life I previously created - one built on coping mechanisms that helped me feel safe and capable - is no longer the life that I truly want to live. I don't want to be a person whose entire sense of self-worth is wrapped up in a number on the scale. I don't want to be a person who misses out on making memories and exploring new places with loved ones because only eating a certain number of calories is the top priority. I don't want to be a person whose whole day is derailed by missing a workout or who says "no" to opportunities because of body insecurities. This is no longer the person I want to be. Therefore, letting go of my old life in exchange for a new one is necessary; it's scary, uncomfortable, disorienting, and overwhelming, but I know that, one day, when I've shed that old life, it will feel incredibly worth it.

There are so many more of Brianna's quotes I could mention, however, one of the most impactful ones for me right now is, "I hope you find the courage to change your life. In the small ways, in the big ways, in every way that matters. I hope you do not end this story with a heart full of regrets... I hope you realize that this is not the practice run, this is not the preview. This is it. There is nothing to do but leap. There is nothing to do but allow yourself to exist as boldly and honestly as you can" (I encourage you to look up the quote and her post in its entirety here!). Visualizing what I want my life to look like in twenty or thirty years has been incredibly clarifying for me: How will I feel if I engage in unhealthy and harmful behaviors for the next few decades? I see a life wrought with potentially life-threatening health complications, missing out on traveling and meals with friends, always being scared to go to the doctor, constantly criticizing myself and my appearance, and always wanting to be smaller. In twenty years, will I regret the over-exercising, restricting, and lack of rest? Will I wish that, instead of being obsessed with being the smallest version of myself, I had instead pushed through recovery? What might my life be like if I continue to do the hard work now - acknowledging the discomfort and still doing it anyways? I know, deep in my soul, that the first option will undoubtedly result in a lot of regrets. Even though it's so hard to see right now - and the ED voice makes it so murky - I know that avoiding recovery and continuing to engage in disordered patterns will ONLY result in a life full of regrets. "This is not the practice run, this is not the preview. This is it." Reading these words was a necessary shock to my system. I've been reminding myself over and over that I only have one life; I only have one body. How I treat my body now will have profound impacts on what my life looks like in the decades to come. I don't want to waste the only life I have... Even though it's so terrifying right now, I'm confident that choosing courage and embracing the discomfort that accompanies change is the option that leads to joy and fulfillment, not regret.

I hope you take time today to celebrate your wins - no matter how small. Every single time you say "no" to what the ED wants, you're courageously taking another step forward to changing your life for the better. I hope you remind yourself that the new life waiting for you on the other side of recovery will be TREMENDOUSLY worth it!

P.S. - One of the most helpful things for me during the past year has been engaging in daily journaling every morning before I start my day. I often use the writing and posts of creatives like Brianna Wiest as jumping-off points or prompts for my journaling, affirmation recitation, and goal setting. I have found the act of physically writing out statements and repeating them to myself over and over to be really helpful - even if (or perhaps ESPECIALLY if) I don't believe it at that moment. For example, in the above-mentioned quote about a beautiful life, Brianna says, "A beautiful life is not one that is immediately comfortable, but one grown through the acknowledgment of what is worth being uncomfortable for." So, I write this out at the top of my page, and then I pose the question: "What is worth being uncomfortable for?" For me, some of the biggest things include my health and my ability to show up for my partner. I know that the health consequences of having an ED can be really, really serious. I also know that I love my partner so much and the thought of forcing him to spend the remainder of our time together constantly worrying about my health and having to accompany me to doctor's appointments is sickening. I feel outrageously lucky to be in my current relationship, and I don't want the rest of our marriage to be dominated by fears surrounding my health issues. I think that every individual's "why" when it comes to recovery is unique; there are certain things that are probably highly motivating to me that might not be as inspiring for you, and vice versa. I do think that, even though it can be annoying and feel pointless when the ED voice is super loud, continuously returning to your "why" and asking yourself "What is worth being uncomfortable for?" is a really meaningful practice.