Elul...It's On.

Well...seeing as Erev Rosh Hashanah is exactly one week away, I guess I can't continue ignoring the fact that we're in the month of Elul. Okay, I haven't been ignoring it--I just haven't put quite as much energy into it as I would ideally like to. I think that pretty much sums up my relationship with Elul: in theory, I'm a fan; in reality, I'm overwhelmed. And when I get overwhelmed, I avoid.

But I hate walking into the High Holidays totally unprepared, so I needed to do something. I knew, given my current energy level and mental stamina for Things That Are Huge, that I would not be able to deeply examine all major aspects of my life this year. Not happening. But then I found some inspiration courtesy of Laura McKowen, whose blog and Instagram feed I absolutely LOVE. She wrote a post called, "16 Ways to Remember Who You Are When You Forget," and #16 is:

PICK A WORD AND OWN IT.

The idea is to choose a word that you want to be your focus or mantra for the year, or whatever period of time, and channel your energy towards that. I decided right away that I loved this idea and that I would adopt it as my personal Elul practice this year. In the end, I chose a word and a sentence. Here is my word for 5777:

I have always hated risks. In clinical terms, I am considered "highly risk averse." Probably for that very reason, I think this is where I need to put my energy this year. For several years I've felt safe in my life, though not particularly happy...and I'm at the point where "safe" just isn't enough by itself anymore. 

My "safe" approach to relationships has been to show people what I think they want to know/can handle knowing, and to keep the rest private. The upside to that strategy is that I don't give people much material for gossip or weird feelings; the downside is that very few people really know me. And that's lonely. So, very recently I've started taking some risks and being more honest with certain people in my life--people whose friendship is important to me and who have earned a chance to know me. And here's the thing: it's going really well! So THAT feels great, and makes me want to continue being authentic. It's kind of like a relationship positive feedback loop (yep, in another lifetime I was a biology nerd).

And then there are other life questions, like where I want to live, what other people I want to bring into my life, and what kind of lifestyle I want us to have. I have zero answers to any of those questions, but finding them is undoubtedly going to require some risk. A wise friend of mine from treatment once said, "You have to be willing to risk being unhappy in order to be happy." I've never been willing to take that risk...until now. Maybe.

And now, for the 5777 sentence:

I don't know about you, but I am very concerned with everyone else's path. Specifically, I'm concerned with how "everyone" seems to be following one path, and I'm doing something different. I am a conformer and my deepest desire has always been to be a "normal person." I'm not positive, but I think what that means (right now, at least) is that I want to move through life in the same way my friends do, hitting the same milestones and having the same life goals. They just seem so happy, living the way they do. But it's just not for me. I want different things, or at least a different version of things, and it is very, very hard for me to accept being different and to believe that I'm still okay. Sometimes I actually can't go on social media because it is just too painful to look at all my normal, happy friends with their normal, happy lives. Laura McKowen tackles this "Facebook envy" in an absolutely amazing blog post that everyone should read , and her ultimate advice is this:

"Keep going, beauty. Let the Pictured point you to your longing. Consider the Not Pictured and adjust your perspective. Build your own wall and stand on top of it."

And that, I think, is the essence of where my work is: to allow the pain I feel when I compare my friends' paths with mine to guide me toward what I truly want for myself--and then to build my own life proudly. This year, I hope to make decisions that will lead me down the path that is right for me, and to do it knowing that my life also deserves to be celebrated, even if it looks different from other people's. I can make my path into one worth traveling.

Best wishes to all of you as we start the new year. May 5777 be a year of growth for us all!

The 13 Attributes

To round out my posts from this month of Elul, I've decided to dedicate this last one to selichot, the special prayers of repentance that Jews traditionally recite in the days leading up to the High Holidays (Sefardim recite selichot during the entire month of Elul, while Ashkenazim begin on the last motzei Shabbat before Rosh Hashanah and continue until Yom Kippur).  The main theme of selichot is the "13 Attributes of Mercy."  This passage originates in the Torah during the infamous incident of the Golden Calf; Hashem tells Moshe that whenever Israel sins, if they recite the 13 Attributes in the proper order, He will forgive them.  This teaches us that repentance and forgiveness are always possible.  Additionally, when we recite selichot we are to remember that these 13 Attributes exist inside us, as well.  Because we are supposed to try to emulate Hashem, we can use selichot to reaffirm for ourselves how we would like to behave in the world.  In this post, I'll give a brief explanation of each of the Attributes (courtesy of ArtScroll and aish.com!) and will add my own thoughts as to how each one can connect to recovery specifically.

1. and 2.  הי, הי  The name of Hashem is repeated twice as a way to demonstrate that Hashem is with us not only before we sin, but also after.  He knows that we always have within us the potential to go astray, but He is also consistently open to our return to Him.  I find this to be a really comforting message to take into recovery, especially considering all the "slips" and deviations from the path that are bound to occur along the way.  It is never beyond us to correct ourselves, and Hashem's love for us is unwavering.

3.  אל  (Power) This version of G-d's name indicates the tremendous power of Hashem's mercy, which is not limited in the way that human mercy is.  This reminds us that even when we lose patience with ourselves, Hashem does not.  It also prompts us to be more patient with other people, especially with people whom we find particularly frustrating.

4.  רחום (Compassion) Hashem does not go overboard with punishments; rather, He eases the suffering of the guilty.  He also does not deliberately put people into situations of extreme temptation where they are going to be overwhelmingly driven to sin.  Many of us tend to be particularly hard on ourselves and find self-compassion hard to come by.  This is a helpful reminder that even when we feel we have done "wrong," we should not punish ourselves ceaselessly.  We also should not put ourselves into situations that we know are full of triggers (say, buying myself a gym membership or stepping on a bathroom scale).  Similarly, we can try not to hold others' mistakes against them indefinitely and should do what we can to give others the resources they need to succeed.

5.  וחנון (and Gracious) Hashem extends His kindness without restraint, even toward people who are less deserving.  This reminds us to give freely of ourselves and not to withhold courtesy and good will from others out of spite.  Additionally, we shouldn't be stingy when giving to ourselves, either--emotionally or physically!

6.  ארך אפים (Slow to anger)  Hashem is patient and gives us the chance to reconsider and make more positive choices.  I think we would all do well to take a few deep breaths before passing judgment on ourselves or other people!  We also need to recognize that change takes time, and that we must be patient with ourselves (and others) who are trying to make improvements in our lives.

7.  ורב חסד (and Abundant in Kindness) When we are ambivalent or wavering between a positive choice and a negative one, Hashem chooses to judge us favorably and edges us toward the good.  Because ambivalence is such a major struggle in recovery, we should remember that Hashem always believes we can--and will--make the positive choice, and He will help us to do this.

8.  ואמת (and Truth)  Hashem never goes back on His word, even when we've veered far off the desired path.  Just as Hashem does not waver from His promises, we also must try to be honest with ourselves and with other people.  We also can periodically reassess whether our behaviors are in line with what we consider to be the fundamental truths or "bottom lines" of our lives.

9.  נצר חסד לאלפים (Preserver of kindness for thousands of generations)  Hashem has created a system in which the good deeds of a righteous person extend to his or her offspring far in the future.  I'll admit that I'm having a little more trouble finding a human way to emulate this trait...but, I suppose we could connect to it by "passing on" the generosity or kindness that others show to us, in a "pay it forward" kind of way.

10-12. נשא עון, ופשע, וחטאה (Forgiver of sins of desire, rebellion, and carelessness)  Hashem forgives us even when we give in to temptation, when we deliberately defy His will, and when we sin out of apathy or lack of motivation.  I think this pretty much covers the main sources of giving in to eating disorder behaviors!  When we try to resist the pull of old patterns and find we can't; when we are willful and actively choose to do what we know we shouldn't; when we feel that one little action doesn't really matter, anyway--Hashem offers us forgiveness, and we should forgive ourselves, as well.

13.  ונקה (and Who cleanses) Hashem wipes away the sins of people who go through the process of repentance.  No matter how far down the "wrong path" we think we are, we are never too far gone to start fresh.  If we are willing to do teshuva, we can be rid of the negativity that accumulates as a result of being stuck in harmful patterns.

What I take away from studying the 13 Attributes is the reassurance that Hashem really, truly wants us to succeed and live positive lives.  He gives us the benefit of the doubt and provides us with every opportunity to stop, reassess, and make different choices.  We can take comfort in this, and can also strive to extend to ourselves and others the same gentleness that Hashem offers to us.  As the High Holidays approach, I encourage all of us to consider how we can use Hashem's mercy to improve our own lives, and how we can, in turn, be more compassionate towards ourselves and other people.

"Why Should I?"

Although I initially planned to spend each week of Elul looking at a different theme of the month, I've decided that for the time being I'm going to stick with teshuva, on the grounds that there is just so much to explore within that one theme.  The more I thought about what I wrote last week, the more it occurred to me that in explaining a reason why the process of recovery can be so painful, I had really addressed only half of the issue.  What naturally follows from that is the question, "Well, if recovery hurts so much and is so uncomfortable, why should I bother putting myself through that in the first place?" Convincing someone (or yourself) that enduring the unpleasantness of early recovery is a worthwhile process can be a tough sell, but recently I came upon some words from--you guessed it--Rav Kook, that I believe both validate the paradox of a painful recovery and offer a solid argument in favor of sitting with the discomfort:

"At the inception of creation it was intended that the tree have the same taste as the fruit (Genesis Rabbah 5:9).  All the supportive actions that sustain any general worthwhile spiritual goal should by right be experienced in the soul with the same feeling of elation and delight as the goal itself is experienced when we envision it.  But earthly existence, the instability of life, the weariness of the spirit when confined in a corporate frame, brought it about that only the fruition of the final step, which embodies the primary ideal, is experienced in its pleasure and splendor.  The trees that bear the fruit have, however, become coarse matter and have lost their taste...But every defect is destined to be mended.  Thus we are assured that the day will come when creation will return to its original state, when the taste of the tree will be the same as the taste of the fruit."  (Orot HaTeshuva)

Here, Rav Kook acknowledges the reality that oftentimes, the process by which we achieve what we most desire is not, in fact, pleasurable.  If full recovery is the "fruit," then the process of getting there is the "tree"...and I think we can all probably agree that the journey is nowhere near as sweet as the destination.  Rav Kook validates this and also normalizes it by teaching us that this is one of the imperfections of life on earth, a less than ideal situation that is familiar to anyone who has ever traveled a long, arduous path toward a much-anticipated goal.  But, he also reassures us that someday the "injustice" of this reality will correct itself, and we will find ourselves in a world where both the process and the result are full of delight.

You might be thinking, "Okay, great.  Someday far, far in the future, this yucky situation will no longer be the reality.  But what about NOW?  How do I deal with it in the present as it happens?"  I have received many valuable answers to the question of how to cope with the discomfort and have personally tried a wide variety of "distress tolerance skills" and methods of "cognitive restructuring."  While not every strategy hit the mark, there were many that did help me manage the uncomfortable feelings and sensations that came along with early recovery.  However, another critical contributor to my ability to push through the unpleasantness was the underlying sense I had that all of the struggles I was enduring were serving to teach me something important.  Even in the moment, underneath all my stubbornness, resentment, and fear was a glimmer of understanding that if I could just pull this off, I would end up stronger for it.  Rav Kook reinforces this idea when he says,

"Penitence does not come to embitter life but to make it more pleasurable.  The joy of life resulting from penitence emerges out of all those currents of bitterness in which the soul is entangled in its initial steps toward penitence.  This is the creative higher prowess, to know that sweetness is drawn from all bitterness, life from all the pangs of death, abiding delights from every disease and pain." (Orot HaTeshuva)

For me, this has proven to be true.  While I would never, ever wish an eating disorder on anyone, I also would not want to give back all the insight and understanding that I've gained through the process of recovery. This does not erase the significant pain I often felt or the very real losses I incurred along the way...but it helps me to accept that this struggle was given to me so that it might teach me something important, and I believe it has.  In that light, my hope for all of us is that we find the courage to radically accept the discomfort, move through it, and emerge stronger on the other side.

No Pain, No (internal) Gain

I would be remiss in my exploration of Elul themes if I did not venture into the realm of teshuva--certainly a central focus of this month preceding the High Holidays.  Teshuva (תשובה) is often translated as "repentance" or "penitence,"but there's more to it than that.  The Hebrew root of  תשובה is שוב, which means, "return."  When a person does teshuva, he or she repents for his or her sins, turns away from destructive patterns and actions, and returns to a life in harmony with Hashem.  Teshuva also signals new beginnings and a restoration of balance within oneself.  For years, the focus of my High Holiday teshuva was always apologizing to Hashem for yet another year spent engaging in eating disorder behaviors, a year in which I had, once again, fallen short of my "best self" in what felt like so many ways.  So, I prayed fervently for forgiveness and promised that in the year to come, I would really try to "do better" in recovery.  This happened year after year after year...and each time, I fully intended to follow through on my promise.  So, why didn't I?

I was a classic case of ambivalent teshuva.  I yearned to change, and yet I didn't.  It was puzzling and endlessly frustrating...and yet, it seems, not uncommon to the experience of many people who undergo teshuva for a variety of reasons.  In his brilliant work, Orot HaTeshuva, Rav Kook deeply examines the concept of teshuva.  (For more of Rav Kook's ideas, see this blog post.) This past Tuesday was 3 Elul, Rav Kook's yahrzeit, and I set aside some time that day to explore Orot HaTeshuva.  As I read, I came upon a passage that, I believe, gets right to the heart of why it was so hard for me to turn away from my eating disorder, even though I wanted to.  (Note:  instead of reading this text and making a direct inference that your eating disorder is "evil" or "sinful," perhaps think about it more generally as a negative force in your life.)

"The pain felt in the initial inspiration to penitence is due to the severance of the evil layers of the self, which cannot be mended as long as they are attached to and remain part of the person, and cause deterioration of the whole spirit.  Through penitence they are severed from the basic essence of the self. Every severance causes pain, like the pain felt at the amputation of deteriorated organs for medical reasons.  This is the most inward kind of pain, through which a person is liberated from the dark servitude to his sins and his lowly inclinations and their bitter aftereffects." (Orot HaTeshuva)

Rav Kook hits the nail on the head:  I clung to my eating disorder for so long, despite genuinely wanting to change, because separating from it was too painful.  Even though I knew anorexia was harming me, it had become so enmeshed in who I was that detaching it became a labor intensive, often excruciating process of pushing, pulling, and probing.  My eating disorder was killing me; yet, it felt integral to my being.  Letting go of it did, at times, feel as agonizing as if I was chopping off a limb.

But, Rav Kook is also correct about something else:  the necessity of distance to the process of repair.  When we are entrenched in a problem, it's often hard for us to see it clearly for what it is and figure out how to untangle it.  The same is true of eating disorder behaviors--when we're in the middle of using one, we're hardly in a position to view it objectively and make a plan to get rid of it.  For me, the magic of therapy was that it gave me a safe place to detach from my behaviors and observe, with the help of my clinicians, what function each behavior served and how I could begin to chip away at them one by one.  Being willing and able to separate from my anorexia in that context was what allowed me to internalize the tools that I needed in order to dismantle it.

So, for any of you who find yourselves wondering this month why you spent another year engaging in your eating disorder despite having had a genuine desire to kick it to the curb, remember what Rav Kook says:  it hurts to separate from part of yourself, even from a part that is negative.  And, like most people, you do your best to avoid pain.  But, remember also Rav Kook's message that separation is the key to repair.  If you allow yourself some distance from your eating disorder, you will be able to see it more clearly for what it is.  This year, may you be able to tolerate the pain of this separation, and may it lead you to lasting recovery, once and for all!

Chodesh Tov...it's Elul!

This past Shabbat, we also celebrated Rosh Chodesh Elul.  Elul is the month preceding the High Holidays and is traditionally a time dedicated to introspection, self-evaluation, and spiritual preparation to get us ready for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.  In keeping with this practice, during this month I will aim to center each of my weekly posts around a different theme of Elul and how it relates to recovery.

One traditional Elul practice is to recite Psalm 27 twice a day throughout the month.  Below is a translation of this psalm:

The Lord is my light and my help; whom should I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life, whom should I dread?
When evil men assail me to devour my flesh it is they, my foes and my enemies, who stumble and fall.
Should an army besiege me, my heart would have no fear; should war beset me, still would I be confident.

One thing I ask of the Lord, only that do I seek:  to live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord, to frequent His temple.
He will shelter me in His pavilion on an evil day, grant me the protection of His tent, raise me high upon a rock.
Now is my head high over my enemies roundabout; I sacrifice in His tent with shouts of joy, singing and chanting a hymn to the Lord.

Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud; have mercy on me, answer me.  In Your behalf my heart says: "Seek My face!"
O Lord, I seek Your face.
Do not hide from me; do not thrust aside Your servant in anger; You have ever been my help.
Do not forsake me, do not abandon me, O G-d, my deliverer.
Though my father and mother abandon me, the Lord will take me in.
Show me Your way, O Lord, and lead me on a level path because of my watchful foes.
Do not subject me to the will of my foes, for false witnesses and unjust accusers have appeared against me.
Had I not the assurance that I would enjoy the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living...

Look to the Lord; be strong and of good courage!
O look to the Lord!

When I read the first half of the psalm, I am struck by the strong faith of the speaker and the confidence that no matter what obstacles rise up, Hashem will offer protection and safety.  The psalmist recognizes that to have such unshakable faith is to know security, peace, and the joy of victory.  This reminds me of the mindset that we often need to spur us into recovery.  Because giving up the eating disorder essentially requires a huge leap of faith, we need to feel confident that Hashem is looking out for us and will help us along the journey.  When we feel this way, we often feel empowered, motivated, and confident that we can do the hard work recovery demands--this is what propels our momentum and inspires us to take risks and grow.  I know that when I have an experience that shows me how far I have come in recovery, I enjoy a delicious sense of accomplishment and power as well as deep gratitude to Hashem for getting me to that point.

The second half of the psalm, however, carries a decidedly different tune.  All of a sudden, the psalmist speaks of fear, of doubt, of loneliness.  He begs Hashem not to abandon him in his time of danger and need, and implores G-d to show him the path to a righteous and holy life.  In my mind, this conjures up times when my resolve has weakened, when I've had setbacks, or when the challenges of living a healthy life seemed far, far too demanding--in short, every time I've ever doubted my ability to "make it" in recovery.  The psalmist expresses the intense fear and anguish that can arise at such a time--it's enough to make a person doubt whether he or she has the strength to keep going.  When we are in such a state of despair, remembering that Hashem's love for us is everlasting can give us the courage to keep engaging with life.  The psalmist recognizes an essential truth:  Hashem never gives up on us and never stops wanting us to connect with Him.  In fact, G-d begs us to seek Him out.  And so, even when his faith is weakened, the psalmist hangs onto his determination to feel Hashem's love...and through this, he finds renewed courage.

Psalm 27 is about oneness--unity between the individual and Hashem, and also the joining inside ourselves of our faith and our insecurities.  Elul is a time to bring ourselves closer to G-d, and is also a time to evaluate that relationship...and, like any relationship, our connection with Hashem sometimes feels strong and other times feels hazy.  But, what I take from this psalm is that this is normal--holding the positive with the negative is part of how life works.  Recovery is not a linear path into sunshine and roses; it is full of the ups and downs of real life in this world.  We need to be able to use the strength that we gather in times of security to help us sit with the uncertainties that are also bound to arise--because we know that if we gather our faith and hang on, we will feel safe and strong once again.

So, as we begin our journey through Elul, I wish for you that you do as the psalmist instructs:  Look to Hashem, and be brave!  You can do it!