Making Clear the Motivation for Movement

I’ve been talking to folks a lot lately, in this time of “fresh starts” and resolutions, about how to tell the difference between a health-promoting goal and a goal that is motivated by something more disordered. It’s easy to confuse the two (or for the two to get confused) but for those in recovery, it’s critical that we apply an extra dose of mindfulness, curiosity, and honesty to the process to make sure we know what exactly we’re dealing with.

Here’s what I mean.

I recently worked with someone who was interested in joining a local fitness program. She was motivated by the mental health benefits of movement, a goal of being in community, and a desire to start strength training for longevity.

But she noticed the way in which her eating disorder got a little excited by the prospect of being back in a gym. She talked about feeling like if she cracked the door at all (by resuming movement), her eating disorder was going to understand this as an invitation to come all the way in.

So we talked about the differences between health- and recovery-promoting movement and disordered movement. She recalled what it felt like to be in the gym with her eating disorder running the show: it was inflexible, intense and isolated; serious and punitive. It often involved some degree of dishonesty with her inner circle, as a part of her knew it was outside the bounds of what they would accept as “normal.” It was part of a larger preoccupation with macronutrients and weight, which felt all-consuming and distressing. And it was absolutely fueled by anxiety and fear that if she let up on her strict regimen, her body would change, she would become injured or ill, or she would descend into depression and inactivity.

Health- and recovery-promoting movement, on the other hand, would be flexible and vary in intensity, as determined by her energy, mood, and the time that she had available. Sometimes it would be at the gym in sneakers; sometimes it would be at the park in flip flops, and it would all “count.” It would involve honesty with her family and friends and maybe even occur in community with them. It would require energy; instead of asking, “Have I exercised enough to eat,” which was how her eating disorder thought about things, she wanted to ask, “Have I eaten enough to exercise?” And most importantly, it would be motivated by her core values, most compelling of which was wanting to be more present, energized, and grounded with her kids and spouse.

It’s ongoing, of course, and something we plan to check in on frequently, as there will undoubtedly be moments when the eating disorder thoughts and/or behaviors feel too close for comfort, when the eating disorder gets a little too big for its britches and inserts itself into a situation where it is no longer welcome. And when that happens, the plan is to make it very clear that this kind of movement is not that kind of movement.

That might mean that – for a time, at least – movement shifts to something like slow walks down the road instead of trips to the gym, or kitchen dance parties, or some stretches in front of the television. That might be that – for a time, at least – movement gives way to rest. Because this movement is something altogether different from that movement. This movement is something restorative, something kind, something fun.