The Protective Fence

Elul is the month that, in my mind, walks the very fine line between motivating and frustrating.  Motivating, because all the reflection and self-examination can energize us to better ourselves; frustrating, because all the reflection and self-examination leaves us painfully aware that we are having the exact same conversation with ourselves that we had last year at this time (or is that just me?)  Wait a minute, I find myself thinking, aren't these flaws and weaknesses the same flaws and weaknesses I said I was going to work on last year?  And the year before that?  Yes...yes, they are.  Which then begs the question, Why am I not following through?  I recently read a dvar Torah by Rabbi Eliyahu Hoffman that suggests an answer based on this week's parasha, Ki Teitzei.

This parasha contains 74 mitzvot, and one of them is the mitzvah of the "protective fence":

"If you build a new house, you shall make a fence for your roof, so that you will not place blood in your house if a fallen one falls from it."  (Devarim 22:8)

This certainly makes sense on a literal level as far as liability goes, but as is so often the case with Torah, there's a deeper meaning, as well.  The Ben Ish Chai, a renowned Torah scholar and kabbalist from the 1800s, suggests that "building a new house" refers to the process of making a clean start for oneself after a period of introspection and self-evaluation.  The "protective fence," therefore, is the boundaries one puts in place to make sure that one doesn't fall off the proverbial roof and slip back into one's old ways.  And why does the Torah say, "a fallen one falls from it"?  Isn't that redundant?  If we follow the metaphor of the Ben Ish Chai, a "fallen one" is a person who has fallen before and is likely to fall again--hence the need for a strong protective fence.

The idea of a protective fence really resonates with me, particularly in the context of recovery.  Recovering from an eating disorder is enormously challenging, especially when one has to simultaneously exist in the wider cultural milieu.  It's impossible to completely escape food, and it's also impossible to isolate ourselves from other people who have their own issues with food and body.  If we're going to be successful, we need a pretty tough fence.

I started to build my fence when I was in residential treatment twelve years ago, and it has been evolving ever since.  In treatment, one of the big protective measures was eliminating food labels--I never saw the nutrition information of anything I was eating.  We also never talked about weight or specific eating disorder behaviors.  Today, I don't need those protections anymore, but I have put in place others that still serve me well.  Here are some things that are Not Allowed inside the fence that protects my recovery:

• The gym.  The gym and I are divorced.  It's simple, really:  when I exercise, I do it in ways that feel good and are actually enjoyable, and going to the gym neither feels good nor is enjoyable.  Buh-bye, gym.
• "Health" magazines.  Nope, I'm actually not interested in the latest 5-minute workout or which "superfoods" I should be eating this month.  Also, who fact-checks these things?  There's a whole lot of nonsense in those pages.  
• Reality T.V.  I don't object to the concept of reality T.V., but I definitely object to "Extreme Weight Loss" and "Extreme Makeover" and anything of that nature.  Absolutely no, thank you!

Now, none of us can live in a bubble, and we do live in a rather "non-recovery-oriented" culture, so it's unrealistic to think that we can cut out every unhelpful cultural influence.  But I've found that by setting those three things firmly outside the boundary of my protective fence, I'm happier, healthier, and a whole lot more grounded than I was when I had any of those elements in my life.  

But, it's not just what's outside the fence that matters, it's what the fence is actually made of.  And here is where self-talk and support systems come in.  For me, I know that although food and body issues aren't central to my life anymore, I am still vulnerable to anxiety, self-judgment, shame, and loneliness...and when I'm in the midst of any of those, that's when old, unhelpful thoughts and patterns start to creep in. In these situations, the protective fence is key.  I often use self-talk, and one of my favorite mantras is, "I don't have to _____; I get to _____." (Example:  "I don't have to exercise just because other people are; I get to read my book.")  And, when I feel myself going down an old, familiar, unhelpful path that I've gone down in the past, I tell myself, "Rachel, you can do it differently now."  Those phrases help a lot in the moment.  My fence is also strengthened by the many supportive people in my life--therapists, friends, teachers, and family--who provide comfort, encouragement, and connection along the way.

So, as we work our way through Elul this year, let's take time to examine our protective fences and see if there are any holes that need mending.  What do we want to keep outside our boundaries?  What will help our fences stay strong?  May we all find the tools we need to keep ourselves healthy, connected, and growing in the year to come.