*I appreciate that the pandemic was and still is a difficult time. Not everyone will have experienced positive moments and I want to emphasise that the following account is my personal journey during lockdown and how it impacted my mental health.
When lockdown was announced in March 2020, I felt (without sounding insensitive) relieved. I gained what I believed I always wanted: invisibility.
For as long as I can remember, I have put pressure on myself to achieve more and do better - an impossible height to reach. Derived from my perception of how I thought others saw me, I believed that looking 'good' (maintaining a strict workout regime and diet; low body fat and muscle tone) created a facade of 'success' - resulting in other people's approval and acceptance and thus increasing my self-worth. If my body was 'ok' - according to diet culture beauty standards - then I was ok. The opposite to how I really felt.
Pre-March 2020, I was working both on the business and at Virgin Active as a personal trainer. I thrived in being busy and running on empty and would beat myself up for anything less than productive. Mostly when I hit a wall or felt lost, unable to grasp nor come to terms with the uncertain, unknown future of the business - my body became the scapegoat, a release, for how I felt.
In these moments, I compared myself to friends, entrepreneurs and/or strangers on Instagram and instantly criticised myself for not working hard enough. They are 'successful' and I am wasting time. These emotions of guilt and unworthiness were then projected onto my body: "fat and wobbly" if I didn't go to the gym; "cellulitey and ugly" after one hot chocolate; "undeserving" of alcohol (sugar); and I bodychecked daily to ensure I was still 'ok'. Choosing to show up for the eating disorder to control an uncontrollable situation, even if it proved unattainable and at detriment to my health.
So when lockdown was announced, I was optimistic that life would fall into place. Without external expectations to meet, I could 'get fat' and nobody would be able to see or criticise me. I didn't have to 'prove' my productivity, existence nor hide behind a front of being 'fine'. I could shut myself off from the world, do whatever I want and feel relieved at not having to justify my actions. I was invisible.
Ironically, I could not have been more wrong.
I kept to my strict food rules and exercise routine. I locked myself in a sauna (fortunately not in use) to have my weekly therapy Zoom session. I was so challenged by the broader influence of diet culture that I felt bitter and frustrated at not being able to control my family's food choices; hearing the odd remark about ‘healthy’ this or ‘unhealthy’ that triggered my insecurities so much that I compared my eating habits to theirs and often made decisions based on their consumption. I was afraid of doing the 'wrong' ('bad') thing and listening to the eating disorder made me feel 'better'.
What I blamed on fear of external judgement was in fact my own failure to show up as I am and be confident in how I want to live my life. I failed to understand that feelings and reality are opposite, unreliable measures. As much as we can distract ourselves from uncomfortable emotions (keep busy and carry on), they often become too consuming to zoom out and see the real picture. When it rains we feel the rain, but that doesn't mean we are the rain.
I stayed with my family for ten weeks before deciding to go back home to London, the best decision I could have made. Not only did I have a wardrobe of outfits to choose from but I felt a wave of relief to be back in my space, my comfort zone. It also motivated me to embrace lockdown - the closure of gyms - and give my body permission to rest and recover. Force myself to take small steps to recovery without anyone else's eyes on me.
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