I decided to make some changes in my life to kick myself out of the depression and grief-based inertia that was doing a good job of keeping me fairly embedded in mud – or at least feeling that way – for the past several months.

Luckily, synchronicity reared its head as I hoped for inspiration; I started seeing social media posts about the 75-Hard plan.

Don’t let anyone tell you your phone isn’t listening. I tried to turn the iPhone microphone off once after noticing the orange dot. That was work.

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I decided to do a 30-Soft version instead, for a couple of reasons. One, two and a half months is a long time. I wasn’t sure I could complete a plan that ran for that long, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to try. Second, the “official” 75-Hard program has some dogmatism and “one true way” elements that make me, as someone living in recovery from an eating disorder – itself very dogmatic and one true way – uneasy.

For instance, I have no interest in starting over if I ‘fail’ to complete the day’s challenges, one of the ‘official’ rules. I’d be doing the thirty days ’til I died if I followed that bit of guidance. I don’t complete the day often – the selfie is hard for me, though I’ve managed some. I’m considering a self-protraiture rate of forty percent, a solid win. There are benefits to taking the selfies: I’m becoming more accepting and less judgmental with each shot.

Still not sharing.

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This past week has been the hardest so far. The first week or so of anything new has the honeymoon thrill attached. You’re optimistic and excited – this is going to be the ticket.

It was the ticket. I felt better. I felt like a ‘man with a plan.’ I was moving like I had a purpose. The second week felt harder, but still good. Week three of anything is wear you find the pain. That’s when the new wears off. With the shine gone, all one tends to see is work.

There’s nothing my brain likes more than to try wiggling out of a commitment. Doing so provides great fodder for self-criticism. Unfortunately for my brain, it’s having to deal with a bit of disappointment in that regard.

I’m finding maintaining the changes harder this past week, but I’m also doing a good job of persisting, despite the lying inside talk my neuroses are trying to engage in. This is a good thing to know about nasty inside voices: the longer you ignore them, the less effective they become.

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I’d have had trouble following a program like this a few years back. I was resistant to changing more than was necessary for my survival. I think that’s fair – the life changes one makes when recovering from something like an eating disorder aren’t small. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed, and you don’t want that. Feeling like recovery is too much is the kind of thinking that leads to relapse.

One of the most important lessons I’ve learned as I’ve pursued recovery from my eating disorder is that it’s vital for us to extend to ourselves the grace we have for others. Dogmatic, unthinking persistence is only good on paper. The OG program disallows grace, and that’s a mistake.

Be nice to yourself. An “A” is only eighty-six percent. Life rolls along a little more easily when you stop beating yourself up. It’s hard to face the days when you’re covered in self-inflicted wounds and bruises, even when they only live on the inside.

The world tosses enough harm our way. We don’t need to give it help.

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“What strategies do you use to maintain your health and well-being?”

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