Is It Time To  Clear Your Space?

I flicked on the light, plugged in my fountain and oil lamp, opened the blinds to let the natural light in and rolled up my sleeves prepared to dig into my chore ahead.  At the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve I resolved to clear out clutter in my office and open my work space to rekindle the spiritual energy my office is known for. I spent an entire day dusting, vacuuming, scrubbing window ledges and shredding patient files older than seven years so I’d have space for the stack of files behind my chair, heaped on my desk and tucked in the credenza. I had my work cut out for me.

 
As I moved in silence, from one task to the next, memories of patients swirled in my mind. My heart ached as I came across several patients who died over the years. We bonded—swapped eating disorder war stories—and grew in spiritual, emotional, and physical recovery.
 

When I happened upon Martin’s file (anonymous name), caressing his folder as if he were still present, I remembered the first session of psychotherapy and hypnosis, how trapped he’d become in his body. Martin carried two hundred extra pounds on his 5’10” frame. Without opening his file, all our past conversations bubbled up within me. Like many of my patients, Martin believed therapy with me was his last strand of hope to release his obsession with food.

We began our session with the standard questions I ask during the collection of data phase when first working with a patient. Once I had gathered the medical, psychological, family, and work history I moved into personal belief systems to uncover hidden blocks and buried issues with regards to his eating disorder. I asked Martin, “Do you believe you are responsible for your own recovery? Is it the trigger food(s), or your lack of spiritual connection, or both, that prevent you from recovery? Can your recovery take precedence over an obsession with and addiction to the idea of weight loss? Are you ready to clear out the clutter in your thought process?

 
We discussed different approaches to treating his disordered eating and obesity. I suggested a program of recovery can include but need not be limited to: psychotherapy, a Twelve-Step program, an `anonymous’ support group, the advice of a nutritionist experienced in food addiction, and a prayer group—or a church, synagogue, or mosque group. And the list goes on. I asked, “Which components from this list attract your attention?” He opted for therapy, a nutritionist, and a prayer group affiliated with his church and Twelve-Step program addressing his compulsive eating.

It’s my belief if you’re not in peak condition, mentally, physically, spiritually—if you’re not “right” with your surroundings, and comfortable in your own skin, your full potential will be stunted. Martin believed this to be true, that in order to open his full potential he needed to tap into any and all help available and clear out the clutter in his thought process.

Many of us undergo serious health consequences as a result of food abuse. Initially Martin’s recovery from compulsive eating was out of a medical necessity—raging cholesterol—which led him to seek a doctor of addiction psychology for food addiction. 

 

Most of society doesn’t understand or accept food addiction as a real condition. In fact, people tend to be more understanding when an alcoholic doesn’t drink because so many people don’t drink today, either because they have a problem with alcohol, take medication, or they don’t want to drink and drive. Moreover, alcoholism is seen as an addiction; whereas, this isn't the case with food addiction.

Although Martin managed to reach and maintain a healthy weight, he died at 57 from congestive heart failure, which most likely resulted from lifelong poor lifestyle habits. Sometimes patients go past the point of no return and their bodies can’t repair. Perhaps this was the case for Martin.

Today, my office sparkles and the space I so needed is restored. Although I shredded a mountain of files, the stories will forever remain etched in my heart. As I closed the blinds, shut the lights, unplugged the fountain and oil lamp, I took one last look back at my now squeaky clean quaint space I so love to work in, and smiled at the thought of Martin so excited when he was able to once again tie his shoes, ride a bike, cross his legs, and button the bottom buttons of his shirt. Yes, he died perhaps earlier than his time, but he died after years of getting his life back—no longer imprisoned by his weight. It’s never too late to clear out the clutter and reach for the stars, even if you only touch the moon.

Photos by: Dr. Lisa Ortigara Crego