Tales of a (Recovering) Disordered Eater

Every morning on my way to work, I thank my lucky stars when I make it past “the spot” where I spun out last winter.

On roads slick or sunny, damp or dry, I drop my speed, maneuver my Honda Civic, and breathe a huge sigh of relief when that curve near the Pfizer plant (on Portage Road in downtown Kalamazoo for anyone who knows and/or cares) is behind me, a thing of the past in my rearview mirror.

You see, last winter I had my first real accident (hitting inanimate objects like poles in parking garages doesn’t count). And it scared the bejeezus out of me.

Anyone who knows me well will confirm that I’m not much of a driver. In fact, thanks to N.J. state law, I didn’t get my license until my senior year in high school, and even then I didn’t drive in snow.

I went to college in DC and most of my friends didn’t have cars; we took the Metro everywhere. I only drove on breaks when I was back home, and definitely not in bad weather.

I finally leased my Honda (new) in 2004, and, since I was still living in DC at the time, continued to use the Metro for transportation. I rarely drove it except for trips to NJ or big grocery/shopping runs. And I certainly never took it out in the snow.

But when I moved to Michigan, my car became my sole mode of transportation. Snow or not, I had to get to work. Errands needed to be run. The gym needed my presence. And milk and bread don’t grow on my front porch.

I wouldn’t say I ever drove without caution; I just never fully understood my dad’s ominous words from back in my high school days: “A car is a weapon. Drive it with care.”

Until one morning last winter, while driving to work on a road I know so well I could do it with my eyes closed, I slid on some black ice, losing control of my car, my “weapon.”

It seemed to happen in slow motion: I veered into the other lane before doing a complete 180 and went off the road into a ditch, basically facing oncoming traffic.

By some grace of God, no other cars were on the road at the time. (I still have trouble rationalizing this fact; it was morning rush hour and usually there are tons of cars on the road. But this particular morning, I was alone).

When the car finally came to a halt, my heart stopped. I burst into tears, shaking like mad. I wasn’t hurt, and I’d only been going maybe 15-20 mph when it happened, but I had never been so scared in all my life.

Ever since, I’ve been habitually fixated on this one particular spot, and my senses have become more heightened when driving.

I share this story today because while accidents are serious, I think often in our lives we face a smaller yet equally unexpected jolts: a break-up, a failed job interview, a root canal. These things often overwhelm us, but we learn to act pre-emptively.

Perhaps we enter our next relationship with a bit of a guard up. We prep extra-hard for another interview. We take better care of our teeth.

We learn from our mistakes or the mistakes of others. And we tread with a little more caution.

The same way I drive down Portage Road with extra care these days, I hope to drive along this path toward healthy living and overcoming my disordered eating behaviors, noticing the warning signs along the way, with a heightened sensitivity to my own strengths and short-comings.

I want to do everything in my power to avoid another “spin-out,” literally and figuratively. And the best means of prevention is knowing what’s on the “road.” I realize I can’t avoid the road itself — but I can do my best to prevent “collateral damage.”

For me, this means “testing the brakes” (i.e, living and enjoying life within reason, attending social functions and not fretting) and doing “regular maintenance” (working out, eating right, therapy) so I can see the “curves” and still “maneuver the car” around them, since I know I can’t avoid them entirely, as they still exist.

I wish you all a safe and happy journey on whatever road you’re on: overcoming disordered eating/EDs, weight loss, weight maintenance, getting fit, seeking employment, finishing a degree, starting a family.

And please, tread with caution. You’re worth it.

How about you? What journey are you on, and do you find yourself treading with caution or going full-steam ahead?