When to be Selfish...and when to be Selfless

All of recovery, I lived by one manta.

“YOU come first”

Sounds radically selfish, but that was the point. I spent years neglecting myself and my needs. Starving my body, my mind, my heart. Every little detail of my life was a perpetual competition with every single person around me. The comparison game. Many of us are familiar with it. It’s what keeps the eating disorder going. I have to be thinner, had to have gone longer without eating, had to have run the most. But none of these horrifying goals were for my sake. They didn’t make me a better person. They didn’t elevate my quality of life. In fact, the exact opposite seemed to take place. Every comparison left me a step closer to death and a world’s apart from self-acceptance, from serenity.

When I finally committed to a full recovery, I knew my old ways had to change. With an incredible support system and my own dedication, I was able to change my mindset. I knew that if I wanted to get my life back, I had to come first. No more comparisons. It’s a mental hurdle that requires discipline and consistent practice. What worked for me was constant positive self-talk. I needed to remind myself that what others ate, didn’t eat, how much they worked out, what they looked like, etc., had no impact on me. So what the girl at the lunch table over from me is bragging about skipping breakfast and now she’s eating an apple for lunch? So what the cashier at the store has strong, sculpted arms that I’ll never come close to? How would a stranger’s workout regime help me recover? How would worrying about someone else’s eating habits change mine? I used to feel compelled to outdo whatever comparison I sought out. That girl skips breakfast and eats an apple for lunch? Ha, I’ll skip both meals. Nice try!

In my recovery, this situation plays out differently. I remind myself that regardless of what she chooses to do, I’m not impacted in any way. I would focus my attention on just me, what I needed to do in order to restore the weight and nurture my relationship with food. All eyes ahead, on me, only.

I’ll never dispute the success of this mindset. Having a selfish outlook while recovering from an eating disorder, in my experience, is key. An eating disorder thrives through comparison. Keeping self-centered allows you to dedicate all of your energy into what needs to be done on your end. Recovery, while supplemented greatly by professionals and family and friends as support, is virtually impossible without your own drive propelling you forward.

So what happens later, years later, when you’re stable and secure and thrust into the real world? I spent my entire adolescence and most of my teenage years in an isolated dome, afraid of a piece of toast and afraid of talking to anyone other than my mom. Recovered, healthy, strong, and off to college now! Time to re-enter the social world, the same world where nearly all of your peers have had the typical experiences of a growing teen. How does it feel? Intimidating. You’re different. I lost four years that are frankly awkward to make up at nearly 20 years old. What teens experience in their youth is left for me to uncover, alone, at 20.

Honestly, feeling different than my peers caused me to hang onto this selfish mindset that had worked so well for me in the past. As a freshman in college last year, I can look back and see this in full swing. I made efforts to make friends, to go out, to have fun. But it was always on my schedule, what worked for me. I never let myself get too close with anyone, because then I would have to give up the comfort of knowing that I can do everything I need to, and then cater to someone else.

My comfort zone was large, and I was only enabling myself to stay in it. Going to the gym first thing in the morning prevented me from going out with friends the night before, but I was okay with it. I never made an effort to grab food with my friends, or plan city trips, or do remotely anything that would be uncomfortable for me. I wasn’t willing to give up my comforts to make another person happy. I was stuck in my recovery ways, which in hindsight, I have to argue should be only temporary.

I’m currently in my sophomore year of college. Upon coming back, I made a promise to myself to make this year ten times better than my last. The largest component at play for this to happen was my social life. I could call myself an introvert as much as I want, but it couldn’t continue to be an excuse to isolate myself.

The biggest push for me had to be the shift from selfish to selfless. It’s been a little bit hard but a huge thrill. I’ve been saying “yes” to every opportunity I can. I’ve lessened my grip on the rigidity of my schedule. I go out with my friends late into the night and don’t give myself a return time so I get enough sleep to make the 8 AM spin class the next day. I propose a city trip with friends spur of the moment, and eat whatever comes my way. I’ve opened up socially, and I’ve met a handful of incredible people in the past two months that have helped me grow beyond measure.

I’m still learning every day. But I’m confident that life is give and take, and I’m finally experiencing this first hand. I spent a great deal of time doing everything for me, because, well, I had no choice. It was how my life had to be. The most difficult part about life after recovery is understanding just that; that you’re not in recovery anymore. That the comfort you found in that stage of your life is fleeting. To grow and thrive in the real world is to see beyond yourself.

In recovery, you push yourself out of the comfort zone of an eating disorder. In the real world, you push yourself out of the comfort zone of recovery. Continue to watch out for your needs. After all, you have to be your biggest advocate. You have the ultimate power make decisions that determine your wellbeing. A selfless mindset doesn’t imply that your needs become irrelevant. Instead, become flexible. Let other people in. Let their needs matter to you. The select few genuine people I’ve grown deeply close with in my time back have allowed me to see that a strong relationship is one build on give and take. Sacrifices.

It’s scary to finally let myself be. I’ve always been on my own. I’ve always been leading a life for just myself, and it makes me sad to think that all that time I could have been sharing it with others. My life is a thousand times more lively now that I’ve painted it with new experiences and people. I encourage you to run away from yourself for a little. Live off schedule. Skip the gym to spend time with people who are worth it. Let someone else make the dinner plans and go with the flow.

Sacrifice your comforts to make the people that make you happy, happy. It’s changed my life and it’s only been two months. I’m confident that I’m never done recovering, that I’ll spend the rest of my life uncovering small challenges for me to overcome, but they get easier. And more rewarding. I’ll always care for myself, and act in my best interest. But at the end of the day, is it worth it if I can’t share myself with other people? Go easy on yourself. Don’t be so rigid in your ways. Live freely. Start small. Let others in. Let yourself out. Be selfless in the pursuit of life itself.