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Ashley Solomon, Psy.D is a psychologist who specializes in the treatment of eating disorders, body image, trauma, and serious mental illness.

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18 Feb

When Eating Disorder Treatment Fails

Guest Post 4 Comments by Ashley @ Nourishing the Soul

Loved ones of those with eating disorders can find themselves feeling confused and helpless when treatment just doesn’t seem to be working, A psychologist, eating disorder expert, and a personal role model, Dr. Dana Udall-Weiner shares a bit of her wisdom here on NTS today about this difficult juncture in the recovery process.

When family members first learn that their loved one has an eating disorder, most are quick to ask an obvious question:  What’s the treatment?   Which is usually followed by another obvious question:  How long will it take?

Given that we’re talking about conditions with intimidating, Greek-derived names like Anorexia, it’d be easy to assume that medical and mental health professionals have this whole treatment thing figured out.  You’d think that all that data would lead us to a well-established treatment protocol—one administered consistently, reliably, invariably to patients around the world.  Something like an antibiotic for the food-impaired psyche.

Yet the reality is less constant and less comforting: Anorexia, Bulimia and Binge Eating Disorder are conceptualized and treated in various ways.  In the story of eating disorder treatment, there is a loosely organized narrative, with many disparate threads.

You can imagine the disappointment and frustration most people feel when they learn this stark fact.  You may have felt that way, too.

Though we’re learning more all the time, eating disorder research is still in its infancy.

Here’s what we know:  Eating disorders most likely develop due to a multitude of factors which include genetics, ongoing biological processes, and environmental influences.  They are not “caused” by mom’s poor body image or dad’s vegetarianism; they are not inevitable in the children of adults who meet diagnostic criteria.  But there is evidence for heritability:  People are more likely to develop an eating disorder when a first-degree relative has one.  And we know that parental eating patterns, as well as attitudes about weight, impact children—for better or worse.

Here’s the good news:  There are some treatments that seem to be relatively good at reducing eating disorder symptoms.  But the most important word in that sentence is relatively.  Relative to other treatments, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy is fairly effective for Bulimia and Binge Eating Disorder.  Relative to other treatments, Family-Based Therapy is fairly effective for adolescents with Anorexia.

Sadly, this tells you very little about your loved one, and how he or she will respond to treatment.   And that’s the bad news.

During treatment, some individuals very quickly gain insight about why their difficulties began.  For example, many Anorexics will tell you that they actually didn’t feel particularly fat before the eating disorder began to eat away at their lives; rather, they were experiencing something overwhelming—either external circumstances or their own internal response–which seemed impossible to tolerate or control.  The answer, they found, was to restrict their caloric intake; this, at least, seemed to grant them a sense of mastery over their bodies (and lives).  But even an insight as profound as this does not guarantee weight restoration or recovery; for this, the individual actually needs to eat.

The act of eating, however, is never as simple as piling food on a fork and directing it toward a waiting mouth, just as refraining from vomiting is never as simple as avoiding a toilet.  These behaviors have meaning, and they become part of a set of behaviors around which the individual organizes her life.

So why isn’t treatment more successful at getting people to abandon these worn out patterns?

Treatment can stall for a laundry-list of reasons which include: physiological factors (either associated with the eating disorder, or co-occurring and unrelated); psychological factors, including undiagnosed or untreated conditions; attitudes and beliefs about recovery; therapeutic factors that relate to the type of treatment being conducted, the setting in which it takes place, or to the therapist; and environmental factors, which include things like family influence and the media.

But regardless of why your loved one may have plateaued in treatment (or even failed to leave the starting gate), you can take important steps like these to right her course and encourage recovery:

  1. Learn all you can about eating disorder treatment in order to determine whether your expectations are realistic.
  2. Share your concerns with the treatment team and ask how they think things are going.
  3. If necessary, get a second opinion; consult with another medical or mental health professional to get feedback about whether your loved one’s experience is typical or cause for alarm.
  4. Think about whether environmental factors might be reinforcing the eating disorder.  Some things to consider:  Is your loved one participating in activities—such as ballet or gymnastics—in which a thin body is idealized?  Is she benefiting from the eating disorder in any way, such as getting attention from parents or increased respect from peers?
  5. Talk with her directly to see whether or not she thinks she’s making good progress; it could be that her decision to refrain from “fat talk” with friends represents a major accomplishment in her eyes, even if she’s made little progress in changing her eating patterns.
  6.  Educate yourself about which eating disorder symptoms are most dangerous, so that you can assess how she’s doing, make informed decisions about her care, and accurately communicate your concerns with her treatment team.  For example, poor body image is generally less worrisome than vomiting after meals.

In some ways, eating disorder treatment can feel like the Wild West—vast, loosely mapped, and ruled by contending factions who each want to stake their claim.  But even on stretches of unmarked trail, we generally know how to steer (willing) people toward health and wholeness.

It is not enough.  It is what we have.  And with additional years of ongoing research, our cartography skills will only improve.

If you’d like to learn the specifics about why treatment fails, as well as why research findings don’t always apply to your child, please watch my video, “When Treatment Stalls or Fails: Why Your Child May Not Be Getting Better.”  You can find it on my website, ED Educate, (www.EDEducate.com). 

30 Jan

You Should Know :: Food to Eat

You Should Know 2 Comments by Ashley @ Nourishing the Soul

food_to_eat-cover-newest

If someone has ever told you that there’s no simple recipe for eating disorder recovery, well… they’re right. But fortunately there is now a set of easy (and delicious!) recipes that can aide in recovery from destructive eating habits. It’s called Food to Eat and it’s the new book by Registered Dietitian, Lori Lieberman, and eating disorder survivor, Cate Sangster.

It would be easy to call this a recipe book for eating disorders, but that would be grossly over-simplifying what it offers. Rather than a cookbook,  Lori and Cate have created a fabulous resource for individuals working their way towards recovery. They put they heads together to develop a book that teaches readers not only great-tasting recipes, but how, and even why, to approach food.

Creating a food-focused book for a food-fearful set of readers is no easy task, and Cate and Lori are able to do it with sensitivity, skill, and even humor. The book shifts back and forth between the two authors’ perspectives, so readers get a chance to hear from both an experience nutrition expert and someone who’s been in the trenches of an eating disorder for many years. The book makes it clear that the two didn’t always agree on the approach to take, and I appreciated the candor and richness that resulted.

What others might appreciate is the focus on developing an awareness of one’s own stage of readiness in tackling cooking and food preparation. The authors are cognizant that individuals are at various places in recovery and that even making something simple can be a major hurdle. They respond both firmly and with compassion about the importance of making small steps towards a healthier tomorrow.

At the heart of the book are several chapters worth of recipes. They are divided by the preparation time required, from less than 20 minutes to greater than 40. They include helpful symbols indicating useful information such as whether the recipe is vegetarian-friendly or requires some per-prepared ingredients. It’s obvious that the recipes were selected carefully, with a diverse set of a readers in mind. None require intensive kitchen skills and they are rich in flavors and nutrients. Each is accompanied by beautiful photography of the prepared dish. What’s great too is that those following an exchange system of meal planning can find this information in the appendix.

Developed for those in recovery, this is really a book both for individuals in the trenches of disordered eating, those on the other side, and people who care about them. It’s a fun, helpful guide to eating well, and a book that could have a place in every kitchen. (And now it’s even available for the iPad!)

What are your favorite things to make?

27 Nov

Can we really change for someone else?

Ideas to Consider 2 Comments by Ashley @ Nourishing the Soul

I’ve had it with my patients. I’ve had it with my parents. I’ve definitely had it with my friends. It’s the exchange that goes like this:

Them: I’m so frustrated that I couldn’t [insert: overcome my eating disorder, become a better listener, lower my blood pressure, learn Chinese, be more romantic, stop biting my nails]!

Me: And why do you think that was the case?

Them: I know exactly. It’s because I was never truly doing it for me. I was always doing it for [insert: romantic partner, family member, boss, the trial judge].

Me: Oh. (said in a profoundly empathic way, with a few nods of the head).

My head nodding has was always genuine because I got it. You can’t make changes, real changes, without really wanting it. For yourself. Right?

I have to admit I’ve bought into this idea over the course of my life. And maybe it’s well-founded at times. Internal motivation is nothing to sneeze at.

But sometimes I think we use the idea that change has to be for us as, well, an excuse. We believe that if we haven’t truly summoned the will to change, it can’t work, and so there’s really no point in bothering with the whole shenanigan anyway.

Take eating disorder recovery, for instance, since it’s something in which I’m daily immersed. There’s a familiar refrain among not just patients, but other professionals too, that says: It’s not working because I’m (they’re) not doing it for myself (themselves). I’m (he/she’s) doing it because everyone else wants me (him/her) to.

Because I work mostly with adults rather than children currently, I agree that self-directed motivation is important for long-term recovery. [In the case of children, things get a little bit more tricky…] Individuals do have to want long-term recovery for themselves in order to sustain the immensely hard work that the process entails. Fighting against every urge in one’s being to engage in an eating disorder is much harder over time if the person doesn’t believe in him- or herself or his or her ability to do it.

But (and you knew that was coming), I do not think that means that recovery cannot at least start out for someone else. Here’s the thing – many individuals with eating disorders struggle with major issues around worthiness. They often believe that there is something inherently wrong, defective, or less than about them, and so the idea of taking care of themselves is foreign and, at times, abhorrent. So to imagine engaging in treatment – something that many even feel is indulgent due to these issues – feels awful.

If there is a relationship in their lives, however, that is important enough to them to even nudge them into recovery, I see that as a major point in their column. Individual: 1, Eating Disorder: 0.

When it comes down to it, all change has to start with a value, something we want for ourselves. We don’t just stop biting our nails because we stop enjoying it or it stops serving it’s purpose of relieving stress or boredom. We stop (when and if we do) because something else is more important. It could be the photographs that will be taken at our pending nuptials, our reputation among our co-workers who give us weird looks for our gritty little nails, or the fact that we realize that dealing with stress in this way is not particularly effective. Or, it could be because it irritates our partner to hell and we care enough about that person that we don’t want them to be irritated all the time.

The final reason is not a bad one, despite the bad rap that it often gets. We use the fact that we won’t or can’t change for someone else as a badge of honor or self-esteem. Hell, no, I won’t cut my hair for him!

But what if he actually has a worthy opinion, being outside my own head and all?

The fact is that relationships take compromise, and sometimes they are just the impetus we need to make healthier and better choices in our lives. Relationships can push us to do things we never thought we would – or wanted to – do, and sometimes with really great results. Wow, maybe I do look better with short hair… 

Of course, we have to manage our expectations — we can’t make another person love us or love us more with our choices. We can’t change into something that they approve of if the issues are deeper and less resolved. But sometimes, just sometimes, we can change for someone else. If we love them – and, ultimately, ourselves – enough to do so.

15 Nov

If You Really Knew Me: Below the Tip of the Iceberg

If You Really Knew Me 4 Comments by Ashley @ Nourishing the Soul

Below is one in the series of reader submissions called “If You Really Knew Me.” This moving post comes from an anonymous and brave reader. If you are interested in participating, check out the details.

A multitude of environmental, individual, and genetic triggers all came to a head the summer before tenth grade, in which time I quickly descended into full blown anorexia nervosa – rapidly losing weight that I didn’t have to lose at six feet tall.  I should have been hospitalized, but my parents were scared and did not understand the disease, nor its co-morbidity with the early phases of depression, an obsessive compulsive personality, generalized anxiety disorder, and exercise addiction.

It all came together like the perfect storm.  My high standards kept my grades up, but I do not remember much of high school since the disease consumed everything.  I remember being cold, miserable, ashamed, angry, friendless, isolated…  I was relieved to graduate and leave that particular horror story behind, and move onto college, which my family insisted was the place I was made for.  I just wanted to escape the vestiges of high school friendships that had been destroyed, and move on to people to whom I could appear as just another tall, skinny, smart, runner.  After all, universities have many girls who fulfill those characteristics.

One point I would like to make very clear is that no individual ever decides that they are going to have an eating disorder.  It is a peculiar version of hell, whether it is anorexia, bulimia, or some other eating disorder – with all of its rituals and pain that the monster lovingly personalizes for each of its victims.  The worst part is that it is so insidious as it permeates one of mankind’s basic necessities and passions.  Ironically, the food and body are just the tip of the iceberg – a cry for help and a symptom – of the pain and self-hatred swirling below the surface. The fact that I am acutely conscious of my distorted perceptions does not help alter my belief – it only adds on another heaping pile of shame to the growing mountain.  Shame of my lack of self-worth, self-care, and lack of any other healthy mode of processing.  It is like a malignant, laughing shadow that darkens everything and taunts me with the threat that soon everyone will know that I am not anything special – in reality, I am not even remotely normal.  But then again, normal is not a life I ever want to subscribe to.

Part of struggling with anorexia is a sick obsession with the object we avoid – food.  The brain is starved, along with everything else, and this state was only made worse by running more and more miles because I needed that endorphin high.  Similar to the need for a cigarette or bottle of beer, the run woke me up, and it also allowed me to eat some.  That odd hunger drove me out to run in all weather, at the same time, regardless of how little sleep I might have gotten the night before.

I took the basic nutrition class in the spring of my freshman year, and I loved it.  Early on I had resolved when I was diagnosed with anorexia to never go into a career that would draw on what I had learned, and I wanted nothing to do with it.  Just tell me how to eat and I will carry on.  No counseling, medication, or hospitalization, thank you very much.  So, this small dip into the nutrition field was a very tentative one, but it quickly took hold and early in that semester I dropped my physical therapy major and decided to major in nutrition.  The field of nutrition emphasizes a well-rounded diet and encourages variety, but while I soaked up knowledge I was rejecting its application to my life.

At this point everyone involved, including myself, was in denial that I was still anorexic.  But, my junior year of college I watched the movie, Thin, in one of my nutrition classes and was figuratively thrown in an ice cold shower when I realized that I still had a severe problem.  I was running cross-country for my university that semester, and hating every race and speed workout we did, although I loved the long runs through the park trails with the team.  As my weekly mileage inched higher and higher, my weight began to inch down again and an even deeper depression settled in.

Through a series of events and the grace of God, I quit cross-country (but still ran on my own), and started outpatient therapy in spring of my junior year.  With this step came medication, side effects, a dietitian, and the crushing knowledge that I was sick, flawed, helpless, and mentally unstable – and I had been for a long time, possibly for the majority of my life.

Last summer, I finally entered myself into inpatient treatment for my eating disorder at Remuda Ranch in Wickenburg, Arizona.  I realized that I could not succeed in recovery outpatient because I could not stop running, engaging in food rituals, and keep the façade of school life up.  I called in on a Friday evening and I was there on Tuesday, and I thought I would maybe be there two weeks to figure out everything, and I ended up staying there two months.  Within two days of my arrival I had a nasogastric (NG) tube inserted, medications adjusted, and had my first session with my therapist.

To say that I learned an enormous amount in treatment would be an understatement, and I am still learning and reading and gathering as much data as I can to fight the monster called, ED.  Deep down, I cling to the hope that my struggles are not pointless, and I aspire to someday work with patients who struggle with eating disorders as a registered dietitian.  Women (and men!) who struggle with this disease need someone who intimately understands what it is like to be in their shoes, and I have been through it all.  But for now, I keep going to therapy and all of the other appointments on my calendar, and every day is a struggle.  For I do not love or even like myself which is still apparent from the unsightly scratches, burns, and scars on my arms and legs.  I hope I did not scare you, and know that I am held closely in the hands of my treatment team and in the hands of God.

I am now in graduate school, one step closer to my goal that has kept me motivated. when nothing else would.  I moved across states and came to a place where I knew no one and had no treatment team.  Nothing could have completely prepared me for the massive transition and gasping emptiness I still sometimes feel because of the absence of my support network of friends and professionals.  But I have put out little tendrils, made some friends, and acquired two adorable cats from the local shelter – and what blessings animals are!  I finally found a therapist, dietitian, and psychiatrist to maintain the rigid walls of support and accountability that I still so badly need.  Now my (splendid) dietitian is drawing me back to a healthier meal plan that will help me regain some of the weight I lost in the transition. My therapist encourages mindfulness, and I might have to investigate the possibility of trauma in my past.  I am terrified, but I am also still here though waves of relapse wash over me, so I suppose I have a fighting chance.

Please, treat the disclosure of my tale with respect and I will strive to do the same with you.  Especially since, now you have a piece of me that I can never reacquire, even though I might never meet you.  But if you really knew me, I still don’t have enough faith in humanity to believe that you would give me a second glance…

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