I was well into my anorexia before I realized the way in which I saw and gauged the size of my own body differed from the way it was percieved by others. This revelation occurred when, after I'd lost 40 lbs, my mother, who had always been much smaller than me, handed me a pair of her pants to try on. It didn't make sense in my brain. How could I come even close to wearing the size that she wore? I had never been that size. Sure, I had lost weight and I knew that, but as far as I was concerned, I was still fat. I tried the pants on anyway, mostly to quieten her. Not only did I fit into the pants, they were so large on my body that they nearly fell to the ground even after I'd buttoned them. I couldn't believe it. I stood there in her bedroom, between the window and the ironing board, holding the waistband of my mother's tiny pants to keep them from falling off of me. I had never been so small in my entire life, according to the pants and every person who had ever known me. So why did I still see the same chubby, hopeless, miserable figure staring back at me from inside the mirror?
I had heard as a young girl that those individuals suffering from anorexia nervosa believed themselves to be fat when in reality they were frighteningly thin. My mother explained this to me when we saw the daughter of a local restaurant owner out at the department store. She was, at that point, the thinnest person I had ever seen, not to mention the skinniest person (apart from the cancer patients) in our very small, southern town. Her knee caps were the widest part of her body. Her cheekbones were sunken in as though she was sucking air. She seemed so fragile, probably 20 years old at best, though she walked across the parking lot with the gait of an 80 year old woman. All I remembered thinking was,
"How could she ever think she was fat?" 10 years later, people were asking the same question about me. I still don't have the answer.
Although I have made great progress in my recovery from anorexia and bulimia, I still have hang ups. Body dysmorphia is one of the biggest issues I still face. Here is the definition of Body dysmorphia as defined by the Mayo Clinic's website:
"Body dysmorphic disorder is a type of chronic mental illness in which you can't stop thinking about a flaw with your appearance — a flaw that is either minor or imagined. But to you, your appearance seems so shameful that you don't want to be seen by anyone. Body dysmorphic disorder has sometimes been called 'imagined ugliness.'"
I know that I've gained weight since I entered recovery, but it's very hard for me to understand that people on the street see me as, well, "normal." I assume that people think I'm chubby, or thick, or even downright fat. The reason is because that is how I see myself. When I look in the mirror, I see wide thighs, curvy hips, a stomach that isn't as flat as it could be. But it's more than what I see. It is so largely dependent upon how I feel. It is so very difficult to explain to people how it feels to be uncomfortable and restless inside your own body. I know many people argue "fat is not a feeling." I disagree. I have felt fat. I feel fat. I'm not saying it to gain attention or sympathy or even understanding. I'm saying it because that's the only way to explain how I feel.
I feel fat.
I feel like I'm too large to go out in public.
I feel like I'm too large to be seen.
I feel like people would say, "Damn, she's heavy."
I feel as though my pants are unusually tight.
I feel as though I don't belong.
I feel like I'm unworthy.
I feel as though I wish people would look the other way.
I feel like I should blend into the crowd and disappear.
So maybe fat is not a feeling, but the feeling that fat causes me to feel is uncomfortable. It's frustrating. And it's so very real.
The feeling, that is.
Sometimes I'll catch a glimpse of my body in a public place, where there are other bodies nearby to compare mine to, and I won't recognize myself. In the gym where I work out, my favorite elliptical machine is located across from a wall of floor-length windows. It is in a row with dozens of other machines which are always occupied. Sometimes, in the middle of my workout, I'll turn my head to the side to wipe my forehead with the back of my hand or brush my hair out of my face and accidentally see myself in the mirror, working out there beside all the others, and I'm taken aback by how I look. For that split second I don't look fat at all. I see my familiar brown hair, but then I'll see strangely sharp cheekbones, a bony nose, an unexpectedly slim waist. And the big kicker, normal thighs. It looks familiar, only not. It looks like me, only not. But it's only seconds before the confusion fades. I look down at my thighs, working and pumping in a circular pattern, and feel ashamed of how fat they look.
How fat they look.
I have realized that I am not very self-aware at all, even though I've always thought I was. I realize that I have no idea how I appear to others, what my body looks like charging around out there in the real world, how I'm viewed or judged or criticized-- or ignored. I only know how I see myself. I only know how irrational I am, how unfair I am, how unforgiving and appallingly self-scrutinizing I am.
I also know that I deserve better.
But how do we learn to take a step back and see ourselves as we really are? To see what I see sometimes in the mirror at the gym, or in a storefront window-- the self that somehow escapes me. Unfortunately, I don't have the answer to that either. But I do know this:
I am beautiful, whether I believe it or not.
I am worthy, whether I believe it or not.
I am important, whether I believe it or not.
I am good enough, whether I believe it or not.
The hard part is believing.
Isn't that what this is all about?
Learning to love myself unconditionally?
I guess I still have a lot of work to do.
Here's to believing.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Celebrating Summer, Celebrating Life
I've written before that the change in seasons affects and triggers my eating disordered behavior. My anorexia first began in the dead of winter, which could explain why during the cold weather winter months, restricting and self-starvation become increasingly tempting for me. Summer, however, seems to trigger different feelings. Of course, warmer months add a lot of anxiety and negativity toward the way I feel about my body.
I don't want to wear a skirt. Why would I wear shorts. My legs are hideous. A swimsuit? You must be kidding...
This is normally the sort of dialogue that occurs inside my head when summer begins to materialize. But instead of trying to starve myself, something about the warm weather makes me want to exercise, to "get healthy", to "eat more cleanly", to "lose weight the healthy way", all under the guise that I'm doing something "good for myself."
But where do these feelings come from? Aren't they just eating-disordered mania in disguise?
I'm afraid so. But those of us who have and are recovering from eating disorders are not the only individuals to have this inner dialogue. Quite frankly, it comes down to pressure. We are pressured to have toned, tanned legs, beach-ready bodies, swimsuit-worthy waists. During the summer, there are no extra layers of sweaters or coats or scarves to hide behind. Unless, of course, you want to sweat to death or stay indoors. I don't want to do either.
But I refuse to feel guilty about my body.
I refuse to feel inadequate, insubstantial, insecure, unimportant, unworthy, ugly.
I refuse to waste yet another summer by holding back and not enjoying myself.
(I've wasted far too many)
So, I wore a skirt today, even though my legs are the one part of my body I am and always have been most afraid of. I wore a skirt without leggings. Without tights. Without self-tanner. Without worry. Or regret. Or trepidation. I wore a skirt because it was 90 degrees, unrelentingly humid, and I refused to swelter away another summer in jeans.
Wait, I'm sorry, did I just do something... practical?
Maybe this doesn't seem like much of an accomplishment to most of you, but for me, that's progress. I can count the times on one hand (today included) that I wore a skirt (without tights/leggings) or shorts *in public* in the last 15 years. How unbelievably sad is that? How irrational? Even at my lowest weight, I was deranged enough to believe my legs were huge and disgusting. But that's what an eating disorder does: it lies, intimidates, and destroys. That's why I'm celebrating practicality. Celebrating summer.
Celebrating this short, sweet, single shot at life we are all given.
This is the only life I have.
I've already wasted too much of it.
That stops today.
I don't want to wear a skirt. Why would I wear shorts. My legs are hideous. A swimsuit? You must be kidding...
This is normally the sort of dialogue that occurs inside my head when summer begins to materialize. But instead of trying to starve myself, something about the warm weather makes me want to exercise, to "get healthy", to "eat more cleanly", to "lose weight the healthy way", all under the guise that I'm doing something "good for myself."
But where do these feelings come from? Aren't they just eating-disordered mania in disguise?
I'm afraid so. But those of us who have and are recovering from eating disorders are not the only individuals to have this inner dialogue. Quite frankly, it comes down to pressure. We are pressured to have toned, tanned legs, beach-ready bodies, swimsuit-worthy waists. During the summer, there are no extra layers of sweaters or coats or scarves to hide behind. Unless, of course, you want to sweat to death or stay indoors. I don't want to do either.
But I refuse to feel guilty about my body.
I refuse to feel inadequate, insubstantial, insecure, unimportant, unworthy, ugly.
I refuse to waste yet another summer by holding back and not enjoying myself.
(I've wasted far too many)
So, I wore a skirt today, even though my legs are the one part of my body I am and always have been most afraid of. I wore a skirt without leggings. Without tights. Without self-tanner. Without worry. Or regret. Or trepidation. I wore a skirt because it was 90 degrees, unrelentingly humid, and I refused to swelter away another summer in jeans.
Wait, I'm sorry, did I just do something... practical?
Maybe this doesn't seem like much of an accomplishment to most of you, but for me, that's progress. I can count the times on one hand (today included) that I wore a skirt (without tights/leggings) or shorts *in public* in the last 15 years. How unbelievably sad is that? How irrational? Even at my lowest weight, I was deranged enough to believe my legs were huge and disgusting. But that's what an eating disorder does: it lies, intimidates, and destroys. That's why I'm celebrating practicality. Celebrating summer.
Celebrating this short, sweet, single shot at life we are all given.
This is the only life I have.
I've already wasted too much of it.
That stops today.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Update!
Hi everyone. I know it's been far too long since my last post. There is really nothing I can say about that except things have been very very very busy with my new job. I guess that's not really an excuse. I am trying to set aside time to write and update and read and comment on all of your lovely blogs much more regularly. Know that I am still thinking of you and still wishing you all the very best!
So, I received some life changing news this week. It's official: in October I will be moving to.......
MICHIGAN.
Whoa. Didn't see that one coming! I hate moving. I don't like boxes and packing and unpacking. And I don't like feeling lost and lonely in a new city. I've never been to Michigan, but I'm hoping beautiful things await me there.
As for food, all has been well lately. I pray the same thing for each and every one of you. Be good to yourselves, nurture yourselves, trust yourselves. Love yourselves.
Sorry if this is random. I'll be writing again soon.
So, I received some life changing news this week. It's official: in October I will be moving to.......
MICHIGAN.
Whoa. Didn't see that one coming! I hate moving. I don't like boxes and packing and unpacking. And I don't like feeling lost and lonely in a new city. I've never been to Michigan, but I'm hoping beautiful things await me there.
As for food, all has been well lately. I pray the same thing for each and every one of you. Be good to yourselves, nurture yourselves, trust yourselves. Love yourselves.
Sorry if this is random. I'll be writing again soon.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Defining Hate and Nurturing Love
Due to the state of our world right now, I have been thinking a lot lately about the word hate. Like love, it is a word that has become so commonplace and used so flippantly that we forget its true meaning:
I hate this shirt.
I hate mayonnaise.
I hate when someone cuts me off in traffic.
I hate Mondays.
In reality, hate is not the adequate word to describe any of these circumstances. Hate is much greater, much more powerful, much more dangerous. Here is the definition via http://www.merriam-webster.com:
hate
noun, often attributive \ˈhāt\
Definition of HATE
1
a : intense hostility and aversion usually deriving from fear, anger, or sense of injury b : extreme dislike or antipathy : LOATHING
This definition reminds me of the similarities between hate and fear. One usually drives or supports the other. I think immediately of the way some people have responded to Bin Laden's assassination. I'm alarmed to see many of my fellow Americans rejoicing, celebrating, and cheering over his death. Though I understand and agree that he was a horrible, evil man who needed to be held accountable for the innocent lives he ended, something deep inside my soul will not let me rejoice or celebrate the death of any living creature, period. I cannot celebrate death. Many of you may have seen this next quote circling around facebook and twitter the last few days as I have, but I think it's appropriate and meaningful, not just to this situation, but to the way we live our everyday lives. Martin Luther King, Jr said this about the subject of hate:
"I will mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that."
Like the words hate, love, and fear, darkness and light have also become highly desensitized. They've become a little too wishy-washy; their meaning has been stripped to the point of cliche and redundancy. But let's remember what they mean really. Let's remember the importance of light. Let's remember the importance of love. Not just for others, but for yourselves.
How many of us hate who we are?
Do you really hate yourself?
Your arms, your waist, your thighs?
Do you hate them enough to want to kill, to want to destroy?
I used to. Not now.
Next time you think you hate your body enough to punish it, remember what Dr. King said.
" Returning hate for hate multiplies hate
, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that. "
Hate breeds hate.
Evil breeds evil.
Only love breeds love.
Only acceptance breeds acceptance.
Love yourself.
Love the light inside of you.
It's there, even if it's just a spark.
It's there, even if you don't see it.
Don't let it burn out.
Magnify it.
Celebrate it.
Nurture it.
Let it grow.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Stopping Self-Sabotage
I spent all day Saturday at the beach. For most people, the wonder and beauty of the ocean elicit feelings of peace, tranquility, spirituality, awe. When walking along the seashore, I am no exception. I stand, arms outstretched and eyes closed, breathing in the majesty. My stress levels recede. My body is healed. (I suffer from horrendous allergies. The ocean is the only place on earth where I can, literally, breathe clearly). My soul is healed. I feel closer to God. I feel complete.
Unless, of course, the beach is crowded and I am wearing a swimsuit, which I avoid like the plague. This was the case Saturday. I spent 10% of my time marveling at the wonders of creation, and 90% of my time feeling fat, wishing I was thin like the woman lying 8 feet from me on the pink and white beach towel, that my abs were more defined like the girl in the blue bikini throwing a frisbee with her friends. I spent 90% of my time feeling ashamed and strangely out of place inside my own skin. I didn't take off my sunglasses, attempting to create a barrier between myself and the rest of the world. I tried to lie very still as if I could somehow dissolve into the sand, blend in and become so commonplace that no one would notice me.
After about an hour or two of lying on the crowded beach, my boyfriend unpacked the lunches we had brought with us. He had a tuna sandwich. I had a veggie sandwich with vegan mayo and spinach. He also brought along some fat free pretzels. There was no part of this meal that would have ordinarily made me feel ashamed to eat it. It was reasonably healthy. But I couldn't eat it. I felt as though the entire beach was gawking at me, counting every bite, validating my "fatness". I ate a little less than half of the sandwich and put it back inside the cooler. I felt so open and exposed, something I had not felt in a very long time. I lay on my back and watched the seagulls circle over me. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the tide rolling in and out again. I could no longer see the girl on the pink and white towel, the girl with the abs throwing the frisbee. I just listened and tried to forget. I became aware that I was sabotaging myself-- something I am guilty of daily. Any time there is a good opportunity or I am in a good situation, I unconsciously try to sabotage it and make myself miserable. It's not on purpose. But I always do it. I let my emotions, my eating disorder, all of the baggage that I have impose itself and manifest itself and steal all of the spotlight until I'm having a horrible time and a good situation has turned quickly into a miserable one. I realized that lying there on the sand. And I vowed to stop self-sabotaging, to enjoy my time at the beach, to enjoy my life.
So I pushed my sunglasses back onto the top of my head, took off the shirt I was wearing over my swimsuit, kicked off my sandals, and walked into the water. Past the girl on the pink and white towel. Past the girl with the abs and the frisbee. I stood with my hands on my hips, the entire beach looking or not looking, and let the water rush in to meet me. Literally and metaphorically seeking renewal.
My boyfriend walked out to the water to join me. We found a little deconstructed crab shell stuck in the sand, the legs broken and disjointed lying all around it. It put things in perspective for me somehow.
I realized before long that I was still hungry. Instead of fighting it, I returned to my beach towel, unpacked the rest of my sandwich, and finished all of it. It was a beautiful day. I've said it before and I will say it again, every day for the rest of my life if I have to:
There is no room for an eating disorder in my life.
Life is too short.
Life is too precious.
Unless, of course, the beach is crowded and I am wearing a swimsuit, which I avoid like the plague. This was the case Saturday. I spent 10% of my time marveling at the wonders of creation, and 90% of my time feeling fat, wishing I was thin like the woman lying 8 feet from me on the pink and white beach towel, that my abs were more defined like the girl in the blue bikini throwing a frisbee with her friends. I spent 90% of my time feeling ashamed and strangely out of place inside my own skin. I didn't take off my sunglasses, attempting to create a barrier between myself and the rest of the world. I tried to lie very still as if I could somehow dissolve into the sand, blend in and become so commonplace that no one would notice me.
After about an hour or two of lying on the crowded beach, my boyfriend unpacked the lunches we had brought with us. He had a tuna sandwich. I had a veggie sandwich with vegan mayo and spinach. He also brought along some fat free pretzels. There was no part of this meal that would have ordinarily made me feel ashamed to eat it. It was reasonably healthy. But I couldn't eat it. I felt as though the entire beach was gawking at me, counting every bite, validating my "fatness". I ate a little less than half of the sandwich and put it back inside the cooler. I felt so open and exposed, something I had not felt in a very long time. I lay on my back and watched the seagulls circle over me. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the tide rolling in and out again. I could no longer see the girl on the pink and white towel, the girl with the abs throwing the frisbee. I just listened and tried to forget. I became aware that I was sabotaging myself-- something I am guilty of daily. Any time there is a good opportunity or I am in a good situation, I unconsciously try to sabotage it and make myself miserable. It's not on purpose. But I always do it. I let my emotions, my eating disorder, all of the baggage that I have impose itself and manifest itself and steal all of the spotlight until I'm having a horrible time and a good situation has turned quickly into a miserable one. I realized that lying there on the sand. And I vowed to stop self-sabotaging, to enjoy my time at the beach, to enjoy my life.
So I pushed my sunglasses back onto the top of my head, took off the shirt I was wearing over my swimsuit, kicked off my sandals, and walked into the water. Past the girl on the pink and white towel. Past the girl with the abs and the frisbee. I stood with my hands on my hips, the entire beach looking or not looking, and let the water rush in to meet me. Literally and metaphorically seeking renewal.
My boyfriend walked out to the water to join me. We found a little deconstructed crab shell stuck in the sand, the legs broken and disjointed lying all around it. It put things in perspective for me somehow.
I realized before long that I was still hungry. Instead of fighting it, I returned to my beach towel, unpacked the rest of my sandwich, and finished all of it. It was a beautiful day. I've said it before and I will say it again, every day for the rest of my life if I have to:
There is no room for an eating disorder in my life.
Life is too short.
Life is too precious.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
What happened to the playground? Children and Weight Loss
I apologize for being absent lately. Normally, when I refrain from writing for so long, it's because I haven't been eating well and I'm not making my recovery an active part of my everyday life. But that isn't the case right now. Actually, it's quite the opposite.
The reason I really wanted to write today was to ask the opinion of you, my beautiful readers, regarding something that has been very puzzling to me lately. I belong to a gym in the city where I live. This gym, unlike any that I've belonged to in the past, allows children to gain membership (as part of a family plan, I'm sure) and use the equipment, most of them unsupervised. When I say children, I don't mean teenagers. I mean children. Little kids. 8, 9, 10 years old, swinging around on the elliptical like it's a toy. Not only is it unsafe, it begs the question, what kind of message is being sent these children about body image?
Even when the children are being supervised, it's still incredibly disturbing to me. Like yesterday, a father was working out on an elliptical next to his son, who was around 10 years old. The kid was pedaling the elliptical, sweating, wiping his forehead, sipping water. He was pushing himself as hard as I was. A few rows ahead of us, a trainer from the gym was teaching a kids class. 6 children were stretching, doing sit-ups, running in place, doing squats, taking turns on the treadmill. All the adults in the gym were going about their business. No one seemed to be freaking out, except for me. So I wonder, am I too sensitive? Is it because I have an eating disorder and I understand not only the benefit, but the possible dangers associated with diet and exercise? Is it because I used to be that kid, overweight, always thinking about my body, on a diet every day of my life before I was even in high school? I understand that childhood obesity is a problem in this country. But is strapping your kid to an elliptical where he can look at the calories he's burned the solution?
It made me think: what happened to the playground? What happened to playing tag, kickball, dodgeball. Red rover, red rover, send so-and-so over?
Isn't there a better way to teach our children how to be healthy?
In other words, can't we help them be healthy without calling so much attention to it? Can't we let them think exercise and healthy eating are just normal, not something they have to think about and be conscious of and monitor their progress with?
I understand there are two sides to this issue. I am not an expert in this field. It just seems so unnatural and unsafe to me. It seems so alarming because I was that chubby, unhealthy kid. I went on my first diet when I was 8 years old. I was taking diet pills on and off from ages 14-22. I've lost 80 lbs, I've been bulimic. I've tried every diet, every trick, I've been, at one point or another, almost every size in the clothing department. The point being, I've never felt just good enough. I've never been satisfied with my weight, no matter how fat or how thin. I've never been happy being me.
I just don't want anyone else to have to go through that. And when I see these kids at the gym I can't help but think of the child version of myself, struggling and sad and feeling fat and ordinary, wishing she were thin. Wishing she were pretty. Willing and sick and desperate enough to do whatever she had to do to lose weight.
And then she did. And it didn't change anything.
What was the point, then? What did it solve, all those years of dieting and exercise and purging and restricting and binge eating and crying and not feeling good enough and wanting to change and wanting to die?
Nothing.
It solved nothing.
I guess the point I'm trying to arrive at is this: if you are unhappy, if you don't feel good enough, if you don't love yourself, if you aren't at peace with who you are right now, then losing weight isn't going to change any of that. Even if the diet commercials and talk shows on television tell you otherwise. Changing your outward appearance does just that: it changes you physically. If you are emotionally damaged, it's the inside of your body that needs to be changed. It's your heart that is in need of healing. Your spirit. Your mind. Your soul.
No diet is going to change that.
The reason I really wanted to write today was to ask the opinion of you, my beautiful readers, regarding something that has been very puzzling to me lately. I belong to a gym in the city where I live. This gym, unlike any that I've belonged to in the past, allows children to gain membership (as part of a family plan, I'm sure) and use the equipment, most of them unsupervised. When I say children, I don't mean teenagers. I mean children. Little kids. 8, 9, 10 years old, swinging around on the elliptical like it's a toy. Not only is it unsafe, it begs the question, what kind of message is being sent these children about body image?
Even when the children are being supervised, it's still incredibly disturbing to me. Like yesterday, a father was working out on an elliptical next to his son, who was around 10 years old. The kid was pedaling the elliptical, sweating, wiping his forehead, sipping water. He was pushing himself as hard as I was. A few rows ahead of us, a trainer from the gym was teaching a kids class. 6 children were stretching, doing sit-ups, running in place, doing squats, taking turns on the treadmill. All the adults in the gym were going about their business. No one seemed to be freaking out, except for me. So I wonder, am I too sensitive? Is it because I have an eating disorder and I understand not only the benefit, but the possible dangers associated with diet and exercise? Is it because I used to be that kid, overweight, always thinking about my body, on a diet every day of my life before I was even in high school? I understand that childhood obesity is a problem in this country. But is strapping your kid to an elliptical where he can look at the calories he's burned the solution?
It made me think: what happened to the playground? What happened to playing tag, kickball, dodgeball. Red rover, red rover, send so-and-so over?
Isn't there a better way to teach our children how to be healthy?
In other words, can't we help them be healthy without calling so much attention to it? Can't we let them think exercise and healthy eating are just normal, not something they have to think about and be conscious of and monitor their progress with?
I understand there are two sides to this issue. I am not an expert in this field. It just seems so unnatural and unsafe to me. It seems so alarming because I was that chubby, unhealthy kid. I went on my first diet when I was 8 years old. I was taking diet pills on and off from ages 14-22. I've lost 80 lbs, I've been bulimic. I've tried every diet, every trick, I've been, at one point or another, almost every size in the clothing department. The point being, I've never felt just good enough. I've never been satisfied with my weight, no matter how fat or how thin. I've never been happy being me.
I just don't want anyone else to have to go through that. And when I see these kids at the gym I can't help but think of the child version of myself, struggling and sad and feeling fat and ordinary, wishing she were thin. Wishing she were pretty. Willing and sick and desperate enough to do whatever she had to do to lose weight.
And then she did. And it didn't change anything.
What was the point, then? What did it solve, all those years of dieting and exercise and purging and restricting and binge eating and crying and not feeling good enough and wanting to change and wanting to die?
Nothing.
It solved nothing.
I guess the point I'm trying to arrive at is this: if you are unhappy, if you don't feel good enough, if you don't love yourself, if you aren't at peace with who you are right now, then losing weight isn't going to change any of that. Even if the diet commercials and talk shows on television tell you otherwise. Changing your outward appearance does just that: it changes you physically. If you are emotionally damaged, it's the inside of your body that needs to be changed. It's your heart that is in need of healing. Your spirit. Your mind. Your soul.
No diet is going to change that.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Lessons from Grandma
My grandmother, Elizabeth, is well into her eighties. She is one of the most beautiful, most humble, most wise and most spiritual women I have ever met. (She also happens to share my birthday). She has undoubtedly seen many things in her lifetime. She has birthed 9 children and buried one of them. She has lost her husband of nearly sixty years. But what about the little things? She has watched herself grow from child to woman, from woman to wife, mother, grandmother. Great-grandmother. Her hair is gray. Her body is wrinkled. And it has been for all of my life, yet I've never thought of her as anything less than beautiful. How have I never considered she might not feel the same way about herself?
I learned an interesting bit of information about my grandmother yesterday that should have been obvious or expected somehow, but wasn't. She too has insecurities about her body, she, the one woman in my life I've always viewed as a pillar of strength and wisdom and faith isn't always happy with the reflection she sees in the mirror. But she, unlike many of us, sees the deeper beauty that lies beneath the wrinkles, past the gray hair, the aging body. She sees the radiant beauty inside.
She says, "Sometimes I wake up and look in the mirror and think, Oh God, look at me. Look at this face." Then she sighs. "But I am a child of the King. Good morning, St. Elizabeth." And then she laughs. That long, heart-felt laugh.
She is a child of the King.
How beautiful is that? I share many things with my grandmother-- her hips, her thighs, her good heart, her birthday. I only wish I shared her positive outlook.
Why am I at war with my body?
Why?
What has it ever done to me?
What has it ever done but need nourishment, love?
What has it ever asked for except only to be accepted--- as it is.
The way it was made.
A child of the King.
I learned an interesting bit of information about my grandmother yesterday that should have been obvious or expected somehow, but wasn't. She too has insecurities about her body, she, the one woman in my life I've always viewed as a pillar of strength and wisdom and faith isn't always happy with the reflection she sees in the mirror. But she, unlike many of us, sees the deeper beauty that lies beneath the wrinkles, past the gray hair, the aging body. She sees the radiant beauty inside.
She says, "Sometimes I wake up and look in the mirror and think, Oh God, look at me. Look at this face." Then she sighs. "But I am a child of the King. Good morning, St. Elizabeth." And then she laughs. That long, heart-felt laugh.
She is a child of the King.
How beautiful is that? I share many things with my grandmother-- her hips, her thighs, her good heart, her birthday. I only wish I shared her positive outlook.
Why am I at war with my body?
Why?
What has it ever done to me?
What has it ever done but need nourishment, love?
What has it ever asked for except only to be accepted--- as it is.
The way it was made.
A child of the King.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Another Year
Since my last post (thank you all for the advice and support!) I decided to quit my job. My decision factored in many things. It wasn't just about my eating disorder. It was a bad situation and I decided it was best for me to move on. So that's what I did. And I don't regret it. In fact, I feel empowered by my ability to stand up for myself.
Wednesday was my 27th birthday, though it didn't exactly feel like a day for celebration. My eating disorder ruined the entire evening. My boyfriend was taking me out for dinner after work. When he came home to pick me up I was putting on my makeup and doing my hair. I was in a good mood, a normal mood. So was he. But that all changed once it came time for me to get dressed. None of my clothes seemed to fit me correctly. I felt uncomfortable and large and everything felt tight. I became really anxious. My mood plummeted. I changed jeans three times. I kept dissecting myself in front of the mirror and mumbling to myself. My boyfriend sort of stood back in horror. It had been months since he'd seen me like this, but he knew what the problem was. He tried to tell me I looked beautiful no matter what I wore but I told him I looked humongous. He disagreed. He said, "I don't know what you see when you look in the mirror. You have nothing to compare yourself against. I know you think you're fat, but if there were an actual fat person standing next to you, you'd see that you're nowhere near it."
I just blew past him into the bedroom and changed clothes again. I was so anxious I didn't even want to leave the house. My throat felt tight and I started to cry, but I held it in. I grabbed my purse and we left. The entire way to the restaurant, eating disordered thoughts ran wild. My boyfriend's mood had dropped too because I was in such a bad mood it had affected him. Neither of us spoke. I sat there thinking things like, "I'm never going to eat again. I have to lose 10 lbs. 20 lbs. I am an animal. I am disgusting. I am not eating dinner. I'm not eating anything. Not today, not tomorrow. Not ever."
By the time we got to the restaurant, I decided to have a salad and a margarita. I don't normally drink, except on my birthday or other special occasions. But this occasion didn't feel special at all. We barely spoke all through dinner. I barely ate. We went to have coffee afterward and things started to look up slightly. I got a phone call from my nieces which made me feel better. But then we went home again and my boyfriend went to bed. I started crying again because I felt alone and not good enough. I don't know where all of these feelings were coming from but they overwhelmed me. I went to bed miserable, thinking it's the worst birthday I've had in years.
Then I remembered, at least I'm here another year. At least I'm alive. I should be thankful for each new year spent upon God's earth, for each new day.
Thankfully I've been able to come back to my senses and not act on the negative thoughts I had in the car that evening. I apologized to my boyfriend. He apologized too, though he really did nothing wrong. He said he was scared that I was going to break up with him that day which really surprised me. We've been together four years. The thought never entered my mind. In fact, we first became a couple on my birthday four years ago. So my birthday is also our anniversary. Then I started thinking about my last several birthdays. I realized, again, how far I've come:
March 16th, 2010: Turning 26
I still lived in Las Vegas. I worked the night of my birthday. When I came home around 9 pm, my boyfriend had prepared for me a vegan chocolate tofu cake with vegan chocolate tofu frosting and 26 candles. There is a creepy picture of me blowing the candles out. The next day we booked a hotel room at The Palms for a proper birthday celebration. We had dinner at Simon. Later (like 10 or 11 pm) we had chips and salsa and drinks at Gardunos. Then we went over to Palms Place and had drinks at Rojo Lounge. It was sort of dead and there were lots of really old men hitting on really young girls. After that we went back up to our room and drank champagne, no, Prosecco, on our balcony looking out over the city. We knew then that we would be moving in two months. It was sort of my "Goodbye, Las Vegas" moment.
March 16th, 2009: Turning 25
We lived in Las Vegas, though we escaped to San Diego for my birthday celebration. We went to our usual spot, the dog beach in Del Mar (one of my favorite places on earth) and then to dinner in La Jolla at Trattoria Acqua. I wasn't throwing up anymore. After dinner we went to Seal Rock and watched the wild harbor seals diving into the ocean. We stayed at The Ivy. We went to some stupid night club inside. I hate night clubs. We didn't stay long.
March 16th, 2008: Turning 24
This birthday was also spent in San Diego. We went to Sea World. I pet a donkey. I pet a dolphin. We saw the orca whales. We were in town during the Shamrock festival in the Gaslamp district (since my birthday is the day before St. Patty's day). My eating disorder was still very out of control. I was throwing up 8 or 9 times daily. We stayed at a hotel on the waterfront. We sat at a lounge inside the hotel. I had a blueberry martini. It was way too sweet. My boyfriend had a beer.
March 16th, 2007: Turning 23
I was still an undergrad. This was at the height of my eating disorder. I was so sick I'd dropped out of school for a semester, though by this date I was taking three online classes: Appalachian Literature, Introduction to Nutrition, and The Literature of John Milton. I was working full time at the hospital. My boyfriend flew in to visit me. At that point we were only friends (we've known each other since 2004). He took me to dinner at a local Italian restaurant. I didn't eat much. Afterwards I went in the bathroom to throw up, as customary, but I didn't. Something was different. I told myself, "He bought me this lovely birthday meal. How can I throw it up?" So I made the decision, possibly for the first time ever, to fight against my eating disorder. We spent the night playing Scrabble and eating popcorn. He kissed me. I guess nothing has been the same since.
Birthday Lesson: Be grateful for every year, every month, every day, every moment of life. It's too short to be miserable. It's too short to be sick, scared, unhappy. Afraid.
Wednesday was my 27th birthday, though it didn't exactly feel like a day for celebration. My eating disorder ruined the entire evening. My boyfriend was taking me out for dinner after work. When he came home to pick me up I was putting on my makeup and doing my hair. I was in a good mood, a normal mood. So was he. But that all changed once it came time for me to get dressed. None of my clothes seemed to fit me correctly. I felt uncomfortable and large and everything felt tight. I became really anxious. My mood plummeted. I changed jeans three times. I kept dissecting myself in front of the mirror and mumbling to myself. My boyfriend sort of stood back in horror. It had been months since he'd seen me like this, but he knew what the problem was. He tried to tell me I looked beautiful no matter what I wore but I told him I looked humongous. He disagreed. He said, "I don't know what you see when you look in the mirror. You have nothing to compare yourself against. I know you think you're fat, but if there were an actual fat person standing next to you, you'd see that you're nowhere near it."
I just blew past him into the bedroom and changed clothes again. I was so anxious I didn't even want to leave the house. My throat felt tight and I started to cry, but I held it in. I grabbed my purse and we left. The entire way to the restaurant, eating disordered thoughts ran wild. My boyfriend's mood had dropped too because I was in such a bad mood it had affected him. Neither of us spoke. I sat there thinking things like, "I'm never going to eat again. I have to lose 10 lbs. 20 lbs. I am an animal. I am disgusting. I am not eating dinner. I'm not eating anything. Not today, not tomorrow. Not ever."
By the time we got to the restaurant, I decided to have a salad and a margarita. I don't normally drink, except on my birthday or other special occasions. But this occasion didn't feel special at all. We barely spoke all through dinner. I barely ate. We went to have coffee afterward and things started to look up slightly. I got a phone call from my nieces which made me feel better. But then we went home again and my boyfriend went to bed. I started crying again because I felt alone and not good enough. I don't know where all of these feelings were coming from but they overwhelmed me. I went to bed miserable, thinking it's the worst birthday I've had in years.
Then I remembered, at least I'm here another year. At least I'm alive. I should be thankful for each new year spent upon God's earth, for each new day.
Thankfully I've been able to come back to my senses and not act on the negative thoughts I had in the car that evening. I apologized to my boyfriend. He apologized too, though he really did nothing wrong. He said he was scared that I was going to break up with him that day which really surprised me. We've been together four years. The thought never entered my mind. In fact, we first became a couple on my birthday four years ago. So my birthday is also our anniversary. Then I started thinking about my last several birthdays. I realized, again, how far I've come:
March 16th, 2010: Turning 26
I still lived in Las Vegas. I worked the night of my birthday. When I came home around 9 pm, my boyfriend had prepared for me a vegan chocolate tofu cake with vegan chocolate tofu frosting and 26 candles. There is a creepy picture of me blowing the candles out. The next day we booked a hotel room at The Palms for a proper birthday celebration. We had dinner at Simon. Later (like 10 or 11 pm) we had chips and salsa and drinks at Gardunos. Then we went over to Palms Place and had drinks at Rojo Lounge. It was sort of dead and there were lots of really old men hitting on really young girls. After that we went back up to our room and drank champagne, no, Prosecco, on our balcony looking out over the city. We knew then that we would be moving in two months. It was sort of my "Goodbye, Las Vegas" moment.
My boyfriend lighting the candles on my tofu cake.
March 16th, 2009: Turning 25
We lived in Las Vegas, though we escaped to San Diego for my birthday celebration. We went to our usual spot, the dog beach in Del Mar (one of my favorite places on earth) and then to dinner in La Jolla at Trattoria Acqua. I wasn't throwing up anymore. After dinner we went to Seal Rock and watched the wild harbor seals diving into the ocean. We stayed at The Ivy. We went to some stupid night club inside. I hate night clubs. We didn't stay long.
Me in Del Mar
March 16th, 2008: Turning 24
This birthday was also spent in San Diego. We went to Sea World. I pet a donkey. I pet a dolphin. We saw the orca whales. We were in town during the Shamrock festival in the Gaslamp district (since my birthday is the day before St. Patty's day). My eating disorder was still very out of control. I was throwing up 8 or 9 times daily. We stayed at a hotel on the waterfront. We sat at a lounge inside the hotel. I had a blueberry martini. It was way too sweet. My boyfriend had a beer.
In Del Mar again, one year younger
March 16th, 2007: Turning 23
I was still an undergrad. This was at the height of my eating disorder. I was so sick I'd dropped out of school for a semester, though by this date I was taking three online classes: Appalachian Literature, Introduction to Nutrition, and The Literature of John Milton. I was working full time at the hospital. My boyfriend flew in to visit me. At that point we were only friends (we've known each other since 2004). He took me to dinner at a local Italian restaurant. I didn't eat much. Afterwards I went in the bathroom to throw up, as customary, but I didn't. Something was different. I told myself, "He bought me this lovely birthday meal. How can I throw it up?" So I made the decision, possibly for the first time ever, to fight against my eating disorder. We spent the night playing Scrabble and eating popcorn. He kissed me. I guess nothing has been the same since.
Can't believe my hair was ever this short. Then again, most of it had fallen out by then.
Birthday Lesson: Be grateful for every year, every month, every day, every moment of life. It's too short to be miserable. It's too short to be sick, scared, unhappy. Afraid.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Quitting
I think I mentioned in an earlier post that I got a new job recently. But I don't think I mentioned how bad it's been for me. The people (okay, some of them) are horrible. The pay is horrible. The hours are horrible. The job itself is horrible. Basically, there are no redeeming qualities to this position except that it is in fact a position and, not to mention, the only position that has been offered to me in response to the countless applications and resumes I've sent off out into the darkness. I know this job is only temporary. My boyfriend and I are moving again in November because of his job. This time the destination is unknown. It could be any state in the country. We won't find out where exactly until May. But even if the job is temporary, I'm not sure it's worth it. It has added so much extra stress and pressure when I already had my share of troubles to begin with. I hate complaining, but I feel like I want to quit. And I am definitely not a quitter. I'm a tolerant person. It takes a lot to push me over the edge. I've never really resigned from anything. I've always had the attitude that I can do anything. I can endure anything. Now I'm having doubts.
But there is another reason why I think this job is bad for me. Since I started working there, I've stopped eating. At least I've stopped eating the amount of food that I should be eating. I know. It's wrong. But it's time to come clean. I eat breakfast everyday. And then I skip lunch everyday. There are several days (at least two per week) in which I skip dinner too. The only days I eat what I should are my days off. Even then, I've been scheming of ways to slice off unnecessary calories. Ugh. I feel so disgusting for admitting it, but it's true. At first I blamed it on my hours. Some days I leave for work around 10 am and I don't return home until after 10 pm. Those are the days I skip dinner. Because it's too late, I tell myself. It's too late. The calories will sink right in. Can't go to sleep on a belly full of food. Sound familiar? I'd recognize that skewed perspective anywhere. Unfortunately, I've still been listening to it.
I've also been feeling very depressed lately. I understand this is all cyclical. I know it's related to not eating. When I'm sad, I don't eat. When I don't eat, I'm sad. I've also been dealing with all this family drama lately that has me heartbroken. Unfortunately, I've allowed all my negative emotions to fuel my eating disorder. And I've stood back watching my eating disorder creep back into my life without doing anything to stop it.
Wednesday morning before leaving for work I sent my boyfriend a series of texts. I said:
I went to work anyway but I was near tears all day.
Until that point my boyfriend hadn't realized I wasn't eating and the texts caught him off guard. When I get home from work at night he's already asleep. He assumes I'm eating the leftovers in the refrigerator because, well, why wouldn't I? I'm starving. But it's not that simple. Now he's worried and he thinks I should quit. Even though me quitting would mean we're broke. Again. Which terrifies me. He will be receiving a substantial pay raise in June. If I can only hang on until then.
I don't normally write posts like this. I try to be positive and uplifting. I try to see the good in everything. And I know there is good in this situation. There is a way out somehow. I'm just not sure what I'm supposed to do.
Quit and be healthy but broke?
Work and be sick and miserable but have extra money?
I think I know what I need to do. I spelled it out for myself pretty clearly in the text I sent.
So why is it so hard to quit?
But there is another reason why I think this job is bad for me. Since I started working there, I've stopped eating. At least I've stopped eating the amount of food that I should be eating. I know. It's wrong. But it's time to come clean. I eat breakfast everyday. And then I skip lunch everyday. There are several days (at least two per week) in which I skip dinner too. The only days I eat what I should are my days off. Even then, I've been scheming of ways to slice off unnecessary calories. Ugh. I feel so disgusting for admitting it, but it's true. At first I blamed it on my hours. Some days I leave for work around 10 am and I don't return home until after 10 pm. Those are the days I skip dinner. Because it's too late, I tell myself. It's too late. The calories will sink right in. Can't go to sleep on a belly full of food. Sound familiar? I'd recognize that skewed perspective anywhere. Unfortunately, I've still been listening to it.
I've also been feeling very depressed lately. I understand this is all cyclical. I know it's related to not eating. When I'm sad, I don't eat. When I don't eat, I'm sad. I've also been dealing with all this family drama lately that has me heartbroken. Unfortunately, I've allowed all my negative emotions to fuel my eating disorder. And I've stood back watching my eating disorder creep back into my life without doing anything to stop it.
Wednesday morning before leaving for work I sent my boyfriend a series of texts. I said:
I can't force myself to go to work today.
It's not worth being miserable. And depressed. And ruining my body. And my mind.
Life is too short and too precious.
I went to work anyway but I was near tears all day.
Until that point my boyfriend hadn't realized I wasn't eating and the texts caught him off guard. When I get home from work at night he's already asleep. He assumes I'm eating the leftovers in the refrigerator because, well, why wouldn't I? I'm starving. But it's not that simple. Now he's worried and he thinks I should quit. Even though me quitting would mean we're broke. Again. Which terrifies me. He will be receiving a substantial pay raise in June. If I can only hang on until then.
I don't normally write posts like this. I try to be positive and uplifting. I try to see the good in everything. And I know there is good in this situation. There is a way out somehow. I'm just not sure what I'm supposed to do.
Quit and be healthy but broke?
Work and be sick and miserable but have extra money?
I think I know what I need to do. I spelled it out for myself pretty clearly in the text I sent.
So why is it so hard to quit?
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Today's Ten: Ten Reasons to Keep Fighting
I've been struggling more than usual with eating disordered thoughts for the last few weeks. As I've said many times, recovery from an eating disorder is only possible when you are actively thinking about and pursuing recovery. It isn't going to just happen to you. You aren't going to wake up one morning with your eating disorder magically cured. If you want to get better you have to fight for it. Here are my personal top 10 reasons for fighting (in no particular order).
1.) Anorexia is a thief.
My life pre-eating disorder is frighteningly different than the life I have now. In the past I was happier. I was healthier. I wasn't so antisocial. I didn't second guess myself. I had more friends. I went out more. I didn't feel the need to withdraw into myself and sit at home all the time. I didn't feel like crap all the time. I wasn't always tired and drained. I could focus on tasks without getting distracted. Before my anorexia, I was a better me. My eating disorder stole everything I had. I'm just now beginning to get it all back.
2.) Anorexia is a destroyer.
Let's get straight to the facts. Eating disorders are serious business. They aren't fad diets or lifestyle choices. They are potentially fatal mental illnesses. According to NEDA:
I refuse to be in that unfortunate 5-20%. I will not die from this. We will all die from something someday. But I will not die from this.
3.) I want a future.
Anorexia may own my past, but there is no place for an eating disorder in my future. I'm only 26. God willing, I will have a number of years of life ahead of me. My past may be troubled, but my future doesn't have to be. My future is unspoiled and uncomplicated. It's full of potential, of innocence. It's expansive. It's limitless. I can do anything and be anything. I can start over.
4.) The world is too beautiful. Life is too beautiful.
I am deeply touched and inspired by nature and by the world around me. I'm a stargazer. I'm wishy-washy. I stare at birds and trees and flower petals. Maybe it's because I'm sensitive, maybe it's because I'm a poet, but I see the beauty in every living thing. I'm learning now to see the beauty within myself.
5.) I have dreams.
This is connected to #3 I guess. Not only do I want a future, but I have dreams that I want to come true. I want to teach at a university. I want to get married. I want to have a family. I want to travel, to see the world. I want to make a difference. I want to plant a garden. I want to sit on the front porch somewhere in a little house tucked away in the woods and watch the world unfold around me. I want to sing. I want to write. I have a laundry lists of positive things to accomplish. My eating disorder has no place in any of them. My eating disorder is an interference. It steals the spotlight, the focus. It distracts me from doing the things I want to do and being the person I want to be. I've wasted too many years thinking about calories and fat grams and pounds and the size on the tag inside my jeans. I've wasted too many years feeling not good enough and out of place. No more. It stops now.
6.) I want to have better relationships.
Like many other people with eating disorders, my ability to form lasting relationships is less than desirable. I don't have many friends. I barely speak to the friends I used to have. We've grown apart for a number of reasons, my eating disorder being one of them. I push people away. I don't know how but it always happens. I feel them getting to close and I put my armor on. I'm impenetrable. But I don't want to be anymore. When I meet new people, I want to let them in. Here's to letting my guard down.
7.) I'm tired of being sad.
Depression is nothing new to me. I've experienced it for years, since I was a child. In fact, I can hardly remember not being depressed. There were a few years when I was very very young in which I was truly happy. I remember feeling sad and ashamed of my body at age 7 or 8. I suppose that's when I first started drawing into myself. My father fell ill with cancer when I was 12. That is when the depression really started to take flight. Throughout the years it picked up speed. When I was 19 and he passed away, it skyrocketed. And then the eating disorder came. I understand that all of these things are connected and that, over the years, they have fed off of one another. But I'm tired of being sad. We all deserve to be happy. I know that getting rid of my eating disorder will bring me one step closer to happiness.
8.) I'm ready to relinquish control.
Control is a tricky, tricky word for those with an eating disorder. I will admit firsthand that I am a major control freak. I wasn't like this before my eating disorder. I used to be very easy going and nonchalant. Now, I have to control everything. Every single thing. I can't do anything without planning it out first, and I make very detailed plans. Then I make several back-up plans. I'm meticulous, a perfectionist. I'm a nervous, neurotic mess. I can't give up control in any situation. I micromanage everything. It drives my boyfriend crazy. He's a chef and I refuse to let him cook dinner. Why? He might not do it correctly. I don't like to work as part of a team. I'd rather do it on my own so I'm certain it's done the right way. I never realized my issues with control were problematic until recently. I realize now that it, well, has gotten out of control. I think if I can manage to relax and give up control that it would take a lot of pressure and stress from me. I have to stop worrying about things. I have to learn to be easy going like I used to be. But it stresses me out just thinking about it...
9.) I have people who love me.
I know that I'm not as close to my family I used to be, but I still love them and I know they still love me. My boyfriend loves me. My mother loves me. My grandmother loves me. My nieces love me. My brother loves me. My sister in law loves me. My aunts and uncles love me. Deep down I know this. I have people in my corner even if it doesn't feel like it. I have people who depend on me, who need me. While I know that we can't recover for an eating disorder just for the sake of others, I do know that getting rid of my eating disorder would improve my family relationships. I have to be healthy for myself, but I want to be healthy for those who love me too. I want to stick around to see my nieces grow up. I want to grow old with my boyfriend. Even though an eating disorder is a very personal disease, it impacts all of the people around me. I can't change the damage it's done in the past, but, as I said, I can stop it from doing further damage in the future.
10.) My Dad wouldn't want this for me.
There. I said it. Someone I know said a couple years ago that my Dad would be ashamed of me if he knew I was starving myself. It ripped my heart out. I've never been able to forgive her for that. I don't think my Dad would be ashamed of me. I know that's not true. He would, however, hurt for me. He wouldn't want me to be sick or sad or miserable. He wouldn't want me to torture my body. When he was dying, all he wanted was another shot at life. He saw his body failing and deteriorating. He wanted nothing more than to live and I have life and I'm not even living it. I have a perfectly capable body and I'm destroying it. He wouldn't want me to hate myself or beat myself up or doubt myself or put myself down. He would want me to be happy because he loved me. Because he loves me. He would want me to love myself.
What are your reasons for fighting?
1.) Anorexia is a thief.
My life pre-eating disorder is frighteningly different than the life I have now. In the past I was happier. I was healthier. I wasn't so antisocial. I didn't second guess myself. I had more friends. I went out more. I didn't feel the need to withdraw into myself and sit at home all the time. I didn't feel like crap all the time. I wasn't always tired and drained. I could focus on tasks without getting distracted. Before my anorexia, I was a better me. My eating disorder stole everything I had. I'm just now beginning to get it all back.
2.) Anorexia is a destroyer.
Let's get straight to the facts. Eating disorders are serious business. They aren't fad diets or lifestyle choices. They are potentially fatal mental illnesses. According to NEDA:
" Between 0.5–1% of American women suffer from anorexia nervosa. "
" Anorexia nervosa has one of the highest death rates of any mental illness. "
" Between 5-20% of individuals struggling with anorexia nervosa will die. The probabilities of death increases within that range depending on the length of the condition. "
I refuse to be in that unfortunate 5-20%. I will not die from this. We will all die from something someday. But I will not die from this.
3.) I want a future.
Anorexia may own my past, but there is no place for an eating disorder in my future. I'm only 26. God willing, I will have a number of years of life ahead of me. My past may be troubled, but my future doesn't have to be. My future is unspoiled and uncomplicated. It's full of potential, of innocence. It's expansive. It's limitless. I can do anything and be anything. I can start over.
4.) The world is too beautiful. Life is too beautiful.
I am deeply touched and inspired by nature and by the world around me. I'm a stargazer. I'm wishy-washy. I stare at birds and trees and flower petals. Maybe it's because I'm sensitive, maybe it's because I'm a poet, but I see the beauty in every living thing. I'm learning now to see the beauty within myself.
5.) I have dreams.
This is connected to #3 I guess. Not only do I want a future, but I have dreams that I want to come true. I want to teach at a university. I want to get married. I want to have a family. I want to travel, to see the world. I want to make a difference. I want to plant a garden. I want to sit on the front porch somewhere in a little house tucked away in the woods and watch the world unfold around me. I want to sing. I want to write. I have a laundry lists of positive things to accomplish. My eating disorder has no place in any of them. My eating disorder is an interference. It steals the spotlight, the focus. It distracts me from doing the things I want to do and being the person I want to be. I've wasted too many years thinking about calories and fat grams and pounds and the size on the tag inside my jeans. I've wasted too many years feeling not good enough and out of place. No more. It stops now.
6.) I want to have better relationships.
Like many other people with eating disorders, my ability to form lasting relationships is less than desirable. I don't have many friends. I barely speak to the friends I used to have. We've grown apart for a number of reasons, my eating disorder being one of them. I push people away. I don't know how but it always happens. I feel them getting to close and I put my armor on. I'm impenetrable. But I don't want to be anymore. When I meet new people, I want to let them in. Here's to letting my guard down.
7.) I'm tired of being sad.
Depression is nothing new to me. I've experienced it for years, since I was a child. In fact, I can hardly remember not being depressed. There were a few years when I was very very young in which I was truly happy. I remember feeling sad and ashamed of my body at age 7 or 8. I suppose that's when I first started drawing into myself. My father fell ill with cancer when I was 12. That is when the depression really started to take flight. Throughout the years it picked up speed. When I was 19 and he passed away, it skyrocketed. And then the eating disorder came. I understand that all of these things are connected and that, over the years, they have fed off of one another. But I'm tired of being sad. We all deserve to be happy. I know that getting rid of my eating disorder will bring me one step closer to happiness.
8.) I'm ready to relinquish control.
Control is a tricky, tricky word for those with an eating disorder. I will admit firsthand that I am a major control freak. I wasn't like this before my eating disorder. I used to be very easy going and nonchalant. Now, I have to control everything. Every single thing. I can't do anything without planning it out first, and I make very detailed plans. Then I make several back-up plans. I'm meticulous, a perfectionist. I'm a nervous, neurotic mess. I can't give up control in any situation. I micromanage everything. It drives my boyfriend crazy. He's a chef and I refuse to let him cook dinner. Why? He might not do it correctly. I don't like to work as part of a team. I'd rather do it on my own so I'm certain it's done the right way. I never realized my issues with control were problematic until recently. I realize now that it, well, has gotten out of control. I think if I can manage to relax and give up control that it would take a lot of pressure and stress from me. I have to stop worrying about things. I have to learn to be easy going like I used to be. But it stresses me out just thinking about it...
9.) I have people who love me.
I know that I'm not as close to my family I used to be, but I still love them and I know they still love me. My boyfriend loves me. My mother loves me. My grandmother loves me. My nieces love me. My brother loves me. My sister in law loves me. My aunts and uncles love me. Deep down I know this. I have people in my corner even if it doesn't feel like it. I have people who depend on me, who need me. While I know that we can't recover for an eating disorder just for the sake of others, I do know that getting rid of my eating disorder would improve my family relationships. I have to be healthy for myself, but I want to be healthy for those who love me too. I want to stick around to see my nieces grow up. I want to grow old with my boyfriend. Even though an eating disorder is a very personal disease, it impacts all of the people around me. I can't change the damage it's done in the past, but, as I said, I can stop it from doing further damage in the future.
10.) My Dad wouldn't want this for me.
There. I said it. Someone I know said a couple years ago that my Dad would be ashamed of me if he knew I was starving myself. It ripped my heart out. I've never been able to forgive her for that. I don't think my Dad would be ashamed of me. I know that's not true. He would, however, hurt for me. He wouldn't want me to be sick or sad or miserable. He wouldn't want me to torture my body. When he was dying, all he wanted was another shot at life. He saw his body failing and deteriorating. He wanted nothing more than to live and I have life and I'm not even living it. I have a perfectly capable body and I'm destroying it. He wouldn't want me to hate myself or beat myself up or doubt myself or put myself down. He would want me to be happy because he loved me. Because he loves me. He would want me to love myself.
What are your reasons for fighting?
Friday, February 25, 2011
A White Flag Waving
Thank you all for the support and encouragement you offered on my last post. It is very, very much appreciated. I've been trying hard this week to get a handle on my emotions, to slow down and breathe, to think rationally, calmly, to nurture myself, to stay positive, to smile. I would be lying if I said that it wasn't challenging. I've been suppressing so many emotions and memories and ill feelings deep inside me now for last few months-- even the last few years-- and I guess they're all finally spilling out, whether I'm ready to cope with them or not.
I've written here before about the terrible rift in my family. I will spare you the details. What is important is that my brother and I almost never speak. My father is dead. My mother is remarried (as of last month) and she doesn't call me anymore. We don't speak unless I call her, which my pride won't let me as often as I want to. My mother and I grew very close after my father's passing. But now that she's remarried, it's like she's a totally different person. I've only met her new husband once. From what I have observed and from what she has told me, he is very controlling. I don't know if he simply won't let her contact me, or if she just doesn't want to. Either way, I feel brokenhearted, betrayed, abandoned, alone.
Maybe it's silly for me to feel that way. I'm not a little girl anymore. I'll be 27 in a few weeks. But I feel utterly abandoned. Orphaned.
A few days ago at work one of my coworkers asked me whether or not I missed living in Las Vegas (it's been almost a year since I moved from there). I told her yes, I missed it very much. She asked if I still had family there. I meant to tell her that I didn't have any family there. But the words that came from my mouth were, "I don't have any family." I didn't even realize what I'd said. She placed her hands on my arm and said, "Honey, what do you mean you don't have any family?" I felt tears rising up in me but I held them back. Talk about the Freudian slip of the century.
I know that I do have family. I know that they love me. And I love them very much. But our relationship is so wounded that none of us communicate with one another. We don't see each other. We don't call each other or speak to each other or e-mail each other or text each other.
I do have family. But we are no longer the family we once were.
All of these negative emotions have been fueling eating disordered thoughts. And I have been using them as an excuse not to eat, to lose weight, to funnel all of my energy into letting myself feel pain instead of forcing myself to fight against it. I know that's not okay. I've been praying very hard for God to mend our broken family, to soften our hearts, especially mine. I've been asking him to help me to not hold grudges, to not be bitter. And I realized that we don't have to stay broken. But we will stay broken until one of us takes the first step forward, a peace offering. A white flag waving.
I've never been one to surrender. I can hold a grudge longer than anyone. But so can my brother and so can my mother. I guess we're more alike than any of us realize.
Someone has to give in.
I don't know if I can do it, but I have to try.
I've written here before about the terrible rift in my family. I will spare you the details. What is important is that my brother and I almost never speak. My father is dead. My mother is remarried (as of last month) and she doesn't call me anymore. We don't speak unless I call her, which my pride won't let me as often as I want to. My mother and I grew very close after my father's passing. But now that she's remarried, it's like she's a totally different person. I've only met her new husband once. From what I have observed and from what she has told me, he is very controlling. I don't know if he simply won't let her contact me, or if she just doesn't want to. Either way, I feel brokenhearted, betrayed, abandoned, alone.
Maybe it's silly for me to feel that way. I'm not a little girl anymore. I'll be 27 in a few weeks. But I feel utterly abandoned. Orphaned.
A few days ago at work one of my coworkers asked me whether or not I missed living in Las Vegas (it's been almost a year since I moved from there). I told her yes, I missed it very much. She asked if I still had family there. I meant to tell her that I didn't have any family there. But the words that came from my mouth were, "I don't have any family." I didn't even realize what I'd said. She placed her hands on my arm and said, "Honey, what do you mean you don't have any family?" I felt tears rising up in me but I held them back. Talk about the Freudian slip of the century.
I know that I do have family. I know that they love me. And I love them very much. But our relationship is so wounded that none of us communicate with one another. We don't see each other. We don't call each other or speak to each other or e-mail each other or text each other.
I do have family. But we are no longer the family we once were.
All of these negative emotions have been fueling eating disordered thoughts. And I have been using them as an excuse not to eat, to lose weight, to funnel all of my energy into letting myself feel pain instead of forcing myself to fight against it. I know that's not okay. I've been praying very hard for God to mend our broken family, to soften our hearts, especially mine. I've been asking him to help me to not hold grudges, to not be bitter. And I realized that we don't have to stay broken. But we will stay broken until one of us takes the first step forward, a peace offering. A white flag waving.
I've never been one to surrender. I can hold a grudge longer than anyone. But so can my brother and so can my mother. I guess we're more alike than any of us realize.
Someone has to give in.
I don't know if I can do it, but I have to try.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Letting Go
Today marks the 8th anniversary of my father's death.
I don't think I need to explain how I feel today. Or maybe I do. People assume, myself included, that once the grave is dug, the body is buried, the mourning period has passed, and the griever has returned to what appears to be a normal life again, that the pain is over, or that it's less somehow. But that isn't true. I miss my father terribly. I miss him more than I'll ever be able to explain. 8 years seems like a long time. It seems like it should be easier by now to cope with his passing. But each year that goes by, instead of learning to deal with his absence and miss him less and less, I miss him more and more. I am constantly reminded on days like today that he's never coming home. And then I grieve all over again.
I wrote a post a couple of months ago in which I had a major epiphany. I had always assumed my eating disorder was my unintentional way of coping with the death of my father. But I realized while writing that post that my eating disorder was actually my way of not coping with the death of my father. Shortly after he passed away my eating disorder began. I had no time to think of him. I had no time to approach and deal with the emotions that followed his death. I kept myself busy with diet plans and calorie counting and constant weight loss.
So, 8 years later, I still haven't properly dealt with all of this. I still haven't faced the issue head on. Every time I think of my Dad I either smile and then think of something else very quickly, or I feel the knives in my throat and the sensation that I'm going to cry, and then think of something else very quickly.
After my father's funeral, everyone commented on how well I was taking his passing. Considering how close he and I were, I suppose everyone thought I would fall apart. And I did. It just took a few months to manifest itself. Of course I cried at his funeral. I did nothing but cry for days and days and days. And then I went numb. According to those who believe that there are 5 stages of grief (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance) I have never made it past stage 4. The denial, the anger, and the bargaining all happened when he was so sick with cancer he could no longer talk or walk or function, when he became bed-fast and the doctors told us he'd never recover. The depression set in too, but after he died, it skyrocketed. Then the eating disorder kicked in. And the acceptance, well, I suppose I haven't gotten there yet.
I've always thought of the depression and anxiety I feel due to losing my father as something completely separate from the anxiety and depression I feel due to my eating disorder. But I'm learning very quickly that perhaps they're related. And perhaps I can never recover from one until I'm ready to recover from both.
I have to admit my food intake has been low for the last two weeks. I've been anticipating today for a long time. I've been thinking about Dad a lot. I've been thinking about the collapse of our entire family structure. I've been thinking about lots of sad things. I haven't been thinking of recovery. I've also been working a lot. I've worked 7 shifts in a row, many of which were doubles. Most days I returned home from work about 10 or 11 pm. I've eaten breakfast every day but that's it. No lunch, no dinner. I justify this by telling myself that I don't have time.
But that's not true.
I don't think that this is a relapse. And I know that my behavior is not okay. I know I need to eat. I know how vitally important it is. I know all of those things. But I'm so overwhelmingly sad that I don't even have an appetite. I also know that's no excuse. Like I've said before, recovery has to be a conscious effort. You have to actively think about it and pursue it if you want to accomplish it. Unfortunately for me, I haven't been, at least not lately.
I have a lot of work to do to get myself healthy. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. I have a lot of work to do, but I still know I can do it. I don't know how, but I have faith.
Each year on the anniversary of my father's death I can think of nothing but the Emily Dickinson poem "After great pain a formal feeling comes." In the final stanza, she says
Here's to letting go.
I don't think I need to explain how I feel today. Or maybe I do. People assume, myself included, that once the grave is dug, the body is buried, the mourning period has passed, and the griever has returned to what appears to be a normal life again, that the pain is over, or that it's less somehow. But that isn't true. I miss my father terribly. I miss him more than I'll ever be able to explain. 8 years seems like a long time. It seems like it should be easier by now to cope with his passing. But each year that goes by, instead of learning to deal with his absence and miss him less and less, I miss him more and more. I am constantly reminded on days like today that he's never coming home. And then I grieve all over again.
I wrote a post a couple of months ago in which I had a major epiphany. I had always assumed my eating disorder was my unintentional way of coping with the death of my father. But I realized while writing that post that my eating disorder was actually my way of not coping with the death of my father. Shortly after he passed away my eating disorder began. I had no time to think of him. I had no time to approach and deal with the emotions that followed his death. I kept myself busy with diet plans and calorie counting and constant weight loss.
So, 8 years later, I still haven't properly dealt with all of this. I still haven't faced the issue head on. Every time I think of my Dad I either smile and then think of something else very quickly, or I feel the knives in my throat and the sensation that I'm going to cry, and then think of something else very quickly.
After my father's funeral, everyone commented on how well I was taking his passing. Considering how close he and I were, I suppose everyone thought I would fall apart. And I did. It just took a few months to manifest itself. Of course I cried at his funeral. I did nothing but cry for days and days and days. And then I went numb. According to those who believe that there are 5 stages of grief (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance) I have never made it past stage 4. The denial, the anger, and the bargaining all happened when he was so sick with cancer he could no longer talk or walk or function, when he became bed-fast and the doctors told us he'd never recover. The depression set in too, but after he died, it skyrocketed. Then the eating disorder kicked in. And the acceptance, well, I suppose I haven't gotten there yet.
I've always thought of the depression and anxiety I feel due to losing my father as something completely separate from the anxiety and depression I feel due to my eating disorder. But I'm learning very quickly that perhaps they're related. And perhaps I can never recover from one until I'm ready to recover from both.
I have to admit my food intake has been low for the last two weeks. I've been anticipating today for a long time. I've been thinking about Dad a lot. I've been thinking about the collapse of our entire family structure. I've been thinking about lots of sad things. I haven't been thinking of recovery. I've also been working a lot. I've worked 7 shifts in a row, many of which were doubles. Most days I returned home from work about 10 or 11 pm. I've eaten breakfast every day but that's it. No lunch, no dinner. I justify this by telling myself that I don't have time.
But that's not true.
I don't think that this is a relapse. And I know that my behavior is not okay. I know I need to eat. I know how vitally important it is. I know all of those things. But I'm so overwhelmingly sad that I don't even have an appetite. I also know that's no excuse. Like I've said before, recovery has to be a conscious effort. You have to actively think about it and pursue it if you want to accomplish it. Unfortunately for me, I haven't been, at least not lately.
I have a lot of work to do to get myself healthy. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. I have a lot of work to do, but I still know I can do it. I don't know how, but I have faith.
Each year on the anniversary of my father's death I can think of nothing but the Emily Dickinson poem "After great pain a formal feeling comes." In the final stanza, she says
This is the hour of lead
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow--
First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.
Here's to letting go.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Nutrition Talk
I cannot stress enough the damage improper nutrition/self-starvation has on our bodies. I know that many people with anorexia simply don't care about poor nutrition or poor health--I know I certainly didn't. When anorexic, I didn't take multivitamins. I didn't take Calcium supplements. I didn't care whether I lived or died. Obviously I was able to overcome that deranged thinking and am able to think with clarity now. And I am left now, older and wiser, trying to mend the damage years of malnutrition has had on my body.
I went to the doctor yesterday to get the results of my last round of blood testing. I've known for years now that I am anemic (low iron) and Vitamin B-12 deficient. However, I learned yesterday that I am critically low on Vitamin D. A normal range of Vitamin D present in the body is somewhere near 50. Mine is 5. The doctor stressed the importance of returning my Vitamin D to a healthy level. Without it, I could face serious, serious issues such as osteoporosis, osteomalacia (soft bones), heart problems, etc. Proper amounts of Vitamin D are crucial for maintaining Calcium and Phosphorous levels in your body. Unfortunately for me, an irresponsible vegan who doesn't take her multivitamins, I know that my diet is the reason I'm vitamin deficient. Vitamin D is found in egg yolks, fish, meat, dairy-- all things I strictly avoid. It's also found in sunshine, so I'm going to make an effort to spend more time outdoors. Plus, the doctor gave me a prescription to slowly raise my Vitamin D level over a 12-week period (she said raising it too quickly can cause kidney stones). I try to manage my protein levels and iron levels by making smart food choices, but obviously I've neglected to take the importance of vitamins seriously. I had no idea how bad it was.
So I started thinking about all of my lovely readers. Do you know if you're getting the proper amounts of vitamins? Do you take multivitamins regularly? Do you care or know anything at all about nutrition? I understand that many of you see nutritionists and dietitians regularly, or have seen them in the past. I never have. As I've said in previous posts, I have avoided proper treatment for years, to my own detriment (mostly because I've had no medical insurance, but also due to the lack of trust I have in doctors).
I took a nutrition class when I was an undergrad during the height of my anorexia. I told everyone, including the instructor, that I signed up for the class to help get over my eating disorder. In reality, I was only looking for ways to better starve myself. I thought somehow learning the ins and outs of the human body would give me some sort of advantage, a way to further manipulate and control it. It turned out to be the hardest class I had ever taken. Not because the material was difficult to understand, but because in my eating disordered state, I couldn't accept anything the instructor said as true. On tests, she asked questions like, "How many calories should the average woman eat per day?" My brain wouldn't let me write down a rational answer. And for our final project, we had to record everything we ate over a three day period then calculate the calories, fat grams, protein, vitamins and minerals for those days and compare them to the numbers the book said were healthy based on age. As I said, at the height of my eating disorder, I was eating between 0-800 calories a day. Needless to say, all of my levels were lower than they were supposed to be and my grade suffered. At the time, I was offended the instructor didn't take my eating disorder into consideration, appreciate my honesty, and give me a good grade. But now I see I should have been offended that I didn't stand up for myself and feed my body the nutrients it needed. Even now, this far into recovery, I'm realizing I'm not as healthy as I thought I was. I still have a lot of work to do as far as a healthy diet goes. My body is no longer the enemy. I want to nurture it, to heal it, and to make peace with it. Today is the day for change.
I've been reading a lot this morning about the thirteen essential vitamins we need to be healthy. Here is a description of each of them that I copied and pasted from Medline Plus (here's the link) in case anyone is interested. Please try and understand the horrible things your eating disorder is doing/has done to your body. Maybe you don't care now, but one of these days, you'll wish you'd been kinder to yourself. There's no time like the present.
I went to the doctor yesterday to get the results of my last round of blood testing. I've known for years now that I am anemic (low iron) and Vitamin B-12 deficient. However, I learned yesterday that I am critically low on Vitamin D. A normal range of Vitamin D present in the body is somewhere near 50. Mine is 5. The doctor stressed the importance of returning my Vitamin D to a healthy level. Without it, I could face serious, serious issues such as osteoporosis, osteomalacia (soft bones), heart problems, etc. Proper amounts of Vitamin D are crucial for maintaining Calcium and Phosphorous levels in your body. Unfortunately for me, an irresponsible vegan who doesn't take her multivitamins, I know that my diet is the reason I'm vitamin deficient. Vitamin D is found in egg yolks, fish, meat, dairy-- all things I strictly avoid. It's also found in sunshine, so I'm going to make an effort to spend more time outdoors. Plus, the doctor gave me a prescription to slowly raise my Vitamin D level over a 12-week period (she said raising it too quickly can cause kidney stones). I try to manage my protein levels and iron levels by making smart food choices, but obviously I've neglected to take the importance of vitamins seriously. I had no idea how bad it was.
So I started thinking about all of my lovely readers. Do you know if you're getting the proper amounts of vitamins? Do you take multivitamins regularly? Do you care or know anything at all about nutrition? I understand that many of you see nutritionists and dietitians regularly, or have seen them in the past. I never have. As I've said in previous posts, I have avoided proper treatment for years, to my own detriment (mostly because I've had no medical insurance, but also due to the lack of trust I have in doctors).
I took a nutrition class when I was an undergrad during the height of my anorexia. I told everyone, including the instructor, that I signed up for the class to help get over my eating disorder. In reality, I was only looking for ways to better starve myself. I thought somehow learning the ins and outs of the human body would give me some sort of advantage, a way to further manipulate and control it. It turned out to be the hardest class I had ever taken. Not because the material was difficult to understand, but because in my eating disordered state, I couldn't accept anything the instructor said as true. On tests, she asked questions like, "How many calories should the average woman eat per day?" My brain wouldn't let me write down a rational answer. And for our final project, we had to record everything we ate over a three day period then calculate the calories, fat grams, protein, vitamins and minerals for those days and compare them to the numbers the book said were healthy based on age. As I said, at the height of my eating disorder, I was eating between 0-800 calories a day. Needless to say, all of my levels were lower than they were supposed to be and my grade suffered. At the time, I was offended the instructor didn't take my eating disorder into consideration, appreciate my honesty, and give me a good grade. But now I see I should have been offended that I didn't stand up for myself and feed my body the nutrients it needed. Even now, this far into recovery, I'm realizing I'm not as healthy as I thought I was. I still have a lot of work to do as far as a healthy diet goes. My body is no longer the enemy. I want to nurture it, to heal it, and to make peace with it. Today is the day for change.
I've been reading a lot this morning about the thirteen essential vitamins we need to be healthy. Here is a description of each of them that I copied and pasted from Medline Plus (here's the link) in case anyone is interested. Please try and understand the horrible things your eating disorder is doing/has done to your body. Maybe you don't care now, but one of these days, you'll wish you'd been kinder to yourself. There's no time like the present.
Each vitamin has specific functions. You can develop health problems (deficiency disease) if you do not get enough of a particular vitamin.
Vitamin A helps form and maintain healthy teeth, bones, soft tissue, mucous membranes, and skin.
Vitamin B6 is also called pyridoxine. The more protein you eat, the more vitamin B6 is needed to help the body use protein. Vitamin B6 helps form red blood cells and maintain brain function, among other things.
Vitamin B12, like the other B vitamins, is important for metabolism. It also helps form red blood cells and maintain the central nervous system.
Vitamin C, also called ascorbic acid, is an antioxidant that promotes healthy teeth and gums. It helps the body absorb iron and maintain healthy tissue. It also promotes wound healing.
Vitamin D is also known as the "sunshine vitamin," since it is made by the body after being in the sun. Ten to 15 minutes of sunshine 3 times a week is enough to produce the body's requirement of vitamin D. However, many people living in sunny climates still do not make enough vitamin D and need more from their diet or supplements. Vitamin D helps the body absorb calcium, which you need for the normal development and maintenance of healthy teeth and bones. It also helps maintain proper blood levels of calcium and phosphorus.
Vitamin E is an antioxidant also known as tocopherol. It plays a role in the formation of red blood cells and helps the body use vitamin K.
Vitamin K is not listed among the essential vitamins, but without it blood would not stick together (coagulate). Some studies suggest that it helps promote strong bones in the elderly.
Biotin is essential for the metabolism of proteins and carbohydrates, and in the production of hormones and cholesterol.
Niacin is a B vitamin that helps maintain healthy skin and nerves. It is also has cholesterol-lowering effects.
Folate works with vitamin B12 to help form red blood cells. It is necessary for the production of DNA, which controls tissue growth and cell function. Any woman who is pregnant should be sure to get enough folate. Low levels of folate are linked to birth defects such as spina bifida. Many foods are now fortified with folic acid.
Pantothenic acid is essential for the metabolism of food. It is also plays a role in the production of hormones and cholesterol.
Riboflavin (B2) works with the other B vitamins. It is important for body growth and the production of red blood cells.
Thiamine (B1) helps the body cells change carbohydrates into energy. It is also essential for heart function and healthy nerve cells.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Self-Worth 101
It has been far too long since my last post. I recently got a new job and adjusting to my new schedule has been difficult. Those of you who joined the virtual recovery group I talked about in my last post have already heard this (thank you, by the way! Anyone else interested in joining, the offer still stands. Just let me know!) Trying to eat properly during all of these changes has been particularly challenging. Some days I've been working doubles (two shifts in one day) and it would have been easy for me to skip lunch, skip dinner, restrict like crazy. It would have been easy, but it would have been wrong. I've had to make a conscious effort to find time to eat and eat correctly. Being busy is no excuse to go without food. Anorexia says it is, but anorexia lies. Today is my first day off after working 10 days straight. Needless to say I'm exhausted.
I had originally intended to write about something completely different today, but I received an e-mail from one of my dear friends that really struck a chord in me. She forwarded a quote by David Foster Wallace that says,
Sometimes I just need to be reminded of that. Sometimes we all do.
We are all valuable as human beings.
We all have something special and good, something uniquely our own to offer the world.
We are all imperfect, but we are all important.
We have value.
We have worth.
We are too good to be wasted.
It's easy to remember those things when we've done something good, or when something good has been done to us. But it's hard to remember our worth when times are bad. But we are just as worthy. For so many years, my eating disorder held me down an tricked me into believing I wasn't worth anything, that I didn't matter, that no one cared, that the world wouldn't miss me if I was gone. But, like I said, anorexia lies.
Please remember that.
Be good to yourselves.
I had originally intended to write about something completely different today, but I received an e-mail from one of my dear friends that really struck a chord in me. She forwarded a quote by David Foster Wallace that says,
"If you can, think of times in your life that you've treated people with extraordinary decency and love, and pure uninterested concern, just because they were valuable as human beings. The ability to do that with ourselves. To treat ourselves the way we would treat a really good, precious friend. Or a tiny child of ours that we absolutely loved more than life itself. And I think it's probably possible to achieve that. I think part of the job we're here for is to learn how to do it."
Sometimes I just need to be reminded of that. Sometimes we all do.
We are all valuable as human beings.
We all have something special and good, something uniquely our own to offer the world.
We are all imperfect, but we are all important.
We have value.
We have worth.
We are too good to be wasted.
It's easy to remember those things when we've done something good, or when something good has been done to us. But it's hard to remember our worth when times are bad. But we are just as worthy. For so many years, my eating disorder held me down an tricked me into believing I wasn't worth anything, that I didn't matter, that no one cared, that the world wouldn't miss me if I was gone. But, like I said, anorexia lies.
Please remember that.
Be good to yourselves.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Virtual Support Group/Recovery Buddies
Though it affects the lives of everyone who loves us, ultimately, an eating disorder is a very personal disease. And though no one can make you recover but yourself, having people who understand what you're going through (even if it's only one person) can certainly help. I know that many of us have been in some sort or recovery or treatment facility, talked to therapists, doctors, dietitians, nutritionists, or experienced a recovery support group. But I also know that many haven't. Recovery can be terribly expensive and not everyone (myself included) can financially afford to get the care they need. That's why I've been thinking of creating a virtual recovery support group. I am not a therapist or a doctor or medical professional of any kind, but I have a feeling that many of us could benefit from having a place (aside from our blogs) where we could vent, tell honestly how we are feeling, what we are struggling with, what we need to overcome, etc. I know I could certainly use a little extra encouragement and support and motivation from time to time.
So, I am curious to see if any of you feel the same way. I have created a group via google for eating disorder recovery support. If you are interested in joining this virtual recovery group, please e-mail me here and tell me your name, your e-mail address and your desire to join the group. Or, if you wish, you can just leave that information as a comment at the bottom of this post. Whatever works for you.
I hope that those of you who do join will post to the group frequently and engage in virtual conversations about your recovery journey. However, it's okay to join and become a silent participant, too. Most importantly, this will be a safe and encouraging environment to help us all defeat our eating disorders (not just anorexia. Anyone recovering from any type of eating disorder is welcome). If anyone aims to criticize or condemn, please do not join! Also, don't feel obligated to join if this isn't something that interests you.
For those of you who may not feel comfortable posting and participating in a group environment, I encourage you to at least find one person who you can talk to openly and honestly about your recovery. If you already have that person in your life, that's wonderful. But if you don't and you're interested in finding a recovery buddy, feel free to e-mail me. We all need a little support and motivation and strength from time to time. I would be more than happy to speak privately to any of you about the obstacles you're facing. Again, I'm not a therapist or a doctor of any sort, but I'm a recovering anorexic who also happens to be a good listener.
If you don't feel like talking to me that's okay. Please talk to someone. Help is out there! You just have to ask for it.
So, I am curious to see if any of you feel the same way. I have created a group via google for eating disorder recovery support. If you are interested in joining this virtual recovery group, please e-mail me here and tell me your name, your e-mail address and your desire to join the group. Or, if you wish, you can just leave that information as a comment at the bottom of this post. Whatever works for you.
I hope that those of you who do join will post to the group frequently and engage in virtual conversations about your recovery journey. However, it's okay to join and become a silent participant, too. Most importantly, this will be a safe and encouraging environment to help us all defeat our eating disorders (not just anorexia. Anyone recovering from any type of eating disorder is welcome). If anyone aims to criticize or condemn, please do not join! Also, don't feel obligated to join if this isn't something that interests you.
For those of you who may not feel comfortable posting and participating in a group environment, I encourage you to at least find one person who you can talk to openly and honestly about your recovery. If you already have that person in your life, that's wonderful. But if you don't and you're interested in finding a recovery buddy, feel free to e-mail me. We all need a little support and motivation and strength from time to time. I would be more than happy to speak privately to any of you about the obstacles you're facing. Again, I'm not a therapist or a doctor of any sort, but I'm a recovering anorexic who also happens to be a good listener.
If you don't feel like talking to me that's okay. Please talk to someone. Help is out there! You just have to ask for it.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Desensitizing Triggers: Recovering in the Real World
I know that most of us in the blog community try to be respectful to our readers by not posting information that could trigger bad behavior or encourage relapse, such as specific weight, caloric content/consumption, etc. But what about the real world? How do we avoid being triggered then?
I've learned that the world doesn't understand eating disorders, much less what it takes to recover from one. If you turn on the television, open a magazine, or log onto your internet connection, it doesn't take long to see why. Almost every commercial is a weight loss how-to guide. People who have never had eating disorders are encouraged to lose weight and are made to feel horrible about their bodies regardless of what size they are. If even people without eating disorders are feeling the pressure, how do you think that makes us feel? How are we supposed to handle that?
I watched television this morning while eating breakfast. Halfway through my english muffin, a Special K commercial came on. Of course, it's about weight loss. At the end the woman asked, "What will you gain when you lose?"
Wait, what? Think about that.
What will you gain when you lose? It made me want to spit my breakfast out. It made me feel horrible. It made me feel guilty for eating, for not losing weight, for not gaining something. The truth is I don't need to lose anything. If I lost weight I would gain nothing. In my case it should have said, What will I lose when I lose? Everything.
But the commercial wasn't meant for me. Luckily, I was able to realize this and I continued eating my breakfast. I realize I'm not their target market, but that doesn't matter. Triggers are everywhere. Society wasn't created to tiptoe around people in recovery. Our only option is to try to think with clarity.
A few years ago, when my eating disorder was much worse, I wouldn't have been able to ignore the commercial and continue eating my breakfast. About two years ago, I worked with a guy who flirted with all the female employees, especially me. It was annoying but I ignored him for the most part. One day in the break room, everyone discussed my food choices and eating habits as if it were their business. People said things like,
"I've never seen her eat."
"She doesn't eat anything. She works through lunch breaks."
"She's vegan so she only eats lettuce."
And then the flirt chimed in.
"Look at those hips. Obviously she's eating something."
Of course he meant it as a compliment. To him, like many men, hips are attractive. To me, they were the enemy. Naturally my eating disorder took his comment and ran with it. My entire life, even at my lowest and highest weight and every weight in between, I've always had a small waist and larger hips/thighs/bottom. Some people call it an hourglass figure. My eating disorder wouldn't let me see it as anything but fat.
Since my recovery began, I've been placed in countless situations like the one above. Each time I have been triggered by the outside world, my first reaction was to let my eating disorder take over. "Okay, obviously I'm fat so, I'll go back to not eating."
In reality, I was using these triggers as an EXCUSE to act out the eating disordered behavior I was otherwise trying to suppress. I was allowing myself to wallow, to regress, to give in to my eating disorder even though I knew better. At that stage in my recovery, I knew better. It's like a little kid. His parents can tell him not to do something, the kid knows he isn't supposed to do it, but the minute his parents aren't looking, he does it anyway. We cannot be that kid. We have to hold ourselves accountable. We have to respect ourselves enough to not allow ourselves to do the wrong thing. More than that, we have to respect ourselves enough to make sure we do the right thing.
As I finished my breakfast, another commercial came on. This one was for mini babybel cheese. It's the one where the girl is in the mall passing out samples of this cheese to shoppers. One shopper is carrying a newly purchased dress. The babybel girl gives her some cheese and says something like, "Do they have that dress in my size... which is... size awesome."
It's a silly commercial, but there was something so strangely empowering about this lady saying she's size awesome. I like that. My mother always told me to dress the body you were given. Be the size that you are. It doesn't have to be the size of the person next to you, the one in the magazine. Just be you.
It reminds me of my favorite little vignette in The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros.
I've learned that the world doesn't understand eating disorders, much less what it takes to recover from one. If you turn on the television, open a magazine, or log onto your internet connection, it doesn't take long to see why. Almost every commercial is a weight loss how-to guide. People who have never had eating disorders are encouraged to lose weight and are made to feel horrible about their bodies regardless of what size they are. If even people without eating disorders are feeling the pressure, how do you think that makes us feel? How are we supposed to handle that?
I watched television this morning while eating breakfast. Halfway through my english muffin, a Special K commercial came on. Of course, it's about weight loss. At the end the woman asked, "What will you gain when you lose?"
Wait, what? Think about that.
What will you gain when you lose? It made me want to spit my breakfast out. It made me feel horrible. It made me feel guilty for eating, for not losing weight, for not gaining something. The truth is I don't need to lose anything. If I lost weight I would gain nothing. In my case it should have said, What will I lose when I lose? Everything.
But the commercial wasn't meant for me. Luckily, I was able to realize this and I continued eating my breakfast. I realize I'm not their target market, but that doesn't matter. Triggers are everywhere. Society wasn't created to tiptoe around people in recovery. Our only option is to try to think with clarity.
A few years ago, when my eating disorder was much worse, I wouldn't have been able to ignore the commercial and continue eating my breakfast. About two years ago, I worked with a guy who flirted with all the female employees, especially me. It was annoying but I ignored him for the most part. One day in the break room, everyone discussed my food choices and eating habits as if it were their business. People said things like,
"I've never seen her eat."
"She doesn't eat anything. She works through lunch breaks."
"She's vegan so she only eats lettuce."
And then the flirt chimed in.
"Look at those hips. Obviously she's eating something."
Of course he meant it as a compliment. To him, like many men, hips are attractive. To me, they were the enemy. Naturally my eating disorder took his comment and ran with it. My entire life, even at my lowest and highest weight and every weight in between, I've always had a small waist and larger hips/thighs/bottom. Some people call it an hourglass figure. My eating disorder wouldn't let me see it as anything but fat.
Since my recovery began, I've been placed in countless situations like the one above. Each time I have been triggered by the outside world, my first reaction was to let my eating disorder take over. "Okay, obviously I'm fat so, I'll go back to not eating."
In reality, I was using these triggers as an EXCUSE to act out the eating disordered behavior I was otherwise trying to suppress. I was allowing myself to wallow, to regress, to give in to my eating disorder even though I knew better. At that stage in my recovery, I knew better. It's like a little kid. His parents can tell him not to do something, the kid knows he isn't supposed to do it, but the minute his parents aren't looking, he does it anyway. We cannot be that kid. We have to hold ourselves accountable. We have to respect ourselves enough to not allow ourselves to do the wrong thing. More than that, we have to respect ourselves enough to make sure we do the right thing.
As I finished my breakfast, another commercial came on. This one was for mini babybel cheese. It's the one where the girl is in the mall passing out samples of this cheese to shoppers. One shopper is carrying a newly purchased dress. The babybel girl gives her some cheese and says something like, "Do they have that dress in my size... which is... size awesome."
It's a silly commercial, but there was something so strangely empowering about this lady saying she's size awesome. I like that. My mother always told me to dress the body you were given. Be the size that you are. It doesn't have to be the size of the person next to you, the one in the magazine. Just be you.
It reminds me of my favorite little vignette in The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros.
They are the only ones who understand me. I am the only one who understands them. Four skinny trees with skinny necks and pointy elbows like mine. Four who do not belong here but are here. Four raggedy excuses planted by the city. From our room we can hear them, but Nenny just sleeps and doesn't appreciate these things.
Their strength is secret. They send ferocious roots beneath the ground. They grow up and grow down and grab the earth between their hairy toes and bite the sky with violent teeth and never quit their anger. This is how they keep.
Let one forget his reason for being, they all droop like tulips in a glass, each with their arms around each other. Keep, keep, keep, trees say when I sleep. They teach.
When I am too sad and too skinny to keep keeping, when I am a tiny thing against so many bricks, then it is I look at trees. When there is nothing left to look at on this street. Four who grew despite concrete. Four who reach and do not forget to reach. Four whose only reason is to be and be."
Monday, January 10, 2011
We've seen the landfill rainbow. We've seen the junkyard love.
The holy ghost haunting you.
Whatever you got, I don't mind.
- Over the Rhine
Usually when I'm hit with an unexpected dose of inspiration, I make a note of it on the notes app on my iphone. More often than not, this occurs when the lights are out and my eyes are closed and I'm trying to drift into dreamland. But recently, I've found myself making notes of everything. I used to have the best memory. Now I can't remember anything. Here is a list of notes I made over the last few months word for word-- the totally random things I thought were important enough to remember:
1. Pay credit card bill - January 4th, 1:38 PM
2. "You'll never know your friends from your enemies until the ice breaks." - Eskimo Proverb - January 2nd, 9:00 PM
3. Download Johhny Cash "Ain't no grave" (Someone sang this at my father's funeral. Obviously NOT Johnny Cash.) - January 1st, 4:46 PM
4. Make a list of all the happy memories I have of my brother and I together. - December 30th, 10:17 AM
5. I wish there was a pill or an injection to cure eating disorders. - December 29th, 1:19 AM
6. Number 99, Just as I am - December 26th, 1:52 PM
7. John the Baptist ate locusts and wild honey. Spirit of God descending on Jesus like a dove. - December 26th, 12:55 AM
8. Get a pet mini donkey. - December 25th, 6:41 PM
9. Get a pet capybara. He's a love machine but can't be left alone. Needs lots of water. Vegetarian. Vitamin C. - December 25th, 6:34 PM
10. Get a pygmy goat. - December 25th, 6:26 PM
11. Look for a new belt for my fella. - December 25th, 1:19 AM
12. "For with God nothing shall be impossible." Luke 1:37 - December 25th, 1:14 AM
13. Whoever I was then I can't ever be again. - December 23rd, 11:35 PM
14. When I worked at the hospital, each time a newborn baby came into the world they played nursery music over the intercom. - December 15th, 11:40 PM
15. x amount of sweet potato = x amount of calories - November 16th, 4:33 PM (Obviously a bad day...)
16. Irony of working in hospital while anorexic and bulimic. Irony of being sick and shrinking to nothing with doctors and nurses all around me. - November 12th, 2010 11:48 PM
17. Soymilk. Apple Butter. Sweet Potato. Squash. Zucchini. Garlic. Onion. Banana. Cauliflower. Grapes. Vegan mayo. Chickpeas. Rosemary. Avocado. Mushrooms. Carrots. - November 12th, 11:13 PM
18. Zicam cuts colds short. - November 8th, 10:52 AM
19. Sleepytime vanilla. - October 16th, 11:56 PM
20. There's never a testimony without a test. - September 25th, 7:32 PM
21. List things that are worse than being fat. Shark attacks. Car crashes. Natural Disasters. Drowning. Being sick. - September 15th, 10:39 AM
22. "Don't dream it, be it." - September 23rd, 1:06 PM
23. I'm afraid of being wrong. - September 23rd, 12:42 PM
24. Yoga. Pumpkin Soy Latte. Joan Didion. Begin editing. Laundry. Gym. Blog. Read. Sleep. - September 22nd, 8:57 AM
25. Tooth brush. Cat food. Cough drops. - August 21st, 3:22 PM
26. Eat at Akasha in Culver City and order the vegan onion rings. - August 17th, 12:32 AM
27. Persians are love machines. Can only be house kitty. No street smarts. - July 29th, 11:37 AM
28. You ate. - July 28th, 4:48 PM (Not sure why I made a note of this, but I have a feeling it was a very bad day.)
This made me think, what is the importance of memory? What do the things we choose to remember say about us? I think this list has something important to say about who I am.
I've been thinking a lot about my eating disorder lately. Next to the death of my father, it has been the hardest thing I have ever experienced. Still, when I look back on it, why do I have a tendency to only remember the good things and forget the bad? It's hard for me to remember my lowest points. It's hard for me to remember how sick I used to be, how scared, how miserable. It's hard for me to remember just how little I ate. It's hard to imagine myself slung over the toilet throwing up time after time after time. Sitting on the rug afterward crying. Crying because I felt guilty, crying because I felt no one understood. Crying because I felt helpless and alone. It's hard for me to remember, but that doesn't make it any less real.
Maybe it's hard to remember because the pain of experiencing it once was bad enough.
Maybe it's hard to remember because deep down I want to forget.
But is it good to forget altogether? Or are the bad experiences of the past meant to teach us something about the future?
I don't have the answer. What do you think?
Friday, January 7, 2011
Today's Ten Reasons: Ten Reasons I Love Me
I've made a commitment to myself to take the time to inwardly and actively reflect on my recovery by listing ten positive things about me, ten reasons that I love myself, ten reasons I am thankful, etc. Here are today's ten:
Ten Reasons I love me:
1. I have made so much progress. I am proud of myself for trying and for sticking with my recovery.
2. I have a big heart. I used to think this was a bad thing. It always led to me getting hurt. Now, I realize it's a good thing. I have more room for love, for myself and for others.
3. I'm pretty darn cute. I don't mean in a physical way. I mean in terms of mannerisms. I'm basically like a 26 year old little girl. I used to think this was a problem, too. However, now I think having the heart and imagination of a child is a good thing.
4. I have a good work ethic. I love the dedication I have toward things I am passionate about.
5. I respect people. I try to treat everyone fairly, even if they don't treat me fairly. I will always stop what I'm doing to help someone else.
6. I love love love animals and I love myself for loving animals. Maybe this goes back to having a big heart. I can't stand to see an animal hungry, scared, or in pain. I can't even count how many strays I've rescued, cleaned up, had neutered/spayed and made pets out of. My Dad always said we'd have an elephant in the living room if I could figure out how to squeeze one through the backdoor.
7. I treated myself to a delicious breakfast this morning-- a big hunk of homemade vegan whole wheat cherry pistachio oat bread. I love that even though I still have issues with my eating disorder, I can (most of the time) take care of myself.
8. I have an undying faith in God. I love that by loving him, and by his love for me, I've learned how to love myself.
9. I love that I have a sense of humor. It makes it easier to get through the day when you can stop and laugh at things. I love that my boyfriend is like this, too.
10. I love myself for sharing my story. If everyone is afraid to speak about the bad things that happened to them, how will there ever be change?
Maybe this sounds a little too much like bragging about myself but that is not how it is intended. This exercise is meant to build self-esteem and strengthen self-respect and self-value.
Can you think of ten reasons why you love yourself today?
Ten Reasons I love me:
1. I have made so much progress. I am proud of myself for trying and for sticking with my recovery.
2. I have a big heart. I used to think this was a bad thing. It always led to me getting hurt. Now, I realize it's a good thing. I have more room for love, for myself and for others.
3. I'm pretty darn cute. I don't mean in a physical way. I mean in terms of mannerisms. I'm basically like a 26 year old little girl. I used to think this was a problem, too. However, now I think having the heart and imagination of a child is a good thing.
4. I have a good work ethic. I love the dedication I have toward things I am passionate about.
5. I respect people. I try to treat everyone fairly, even if they don't treat me fairly. I will always stop what I'm doing to help someone else.
6. I love love love animals and I love myself for loving animals. Maybe this goes back to having a big heart. I can't stand to see an animal hungry, scared, or in pain. I can't even count how many strays I've rescued, cleaned up, had neutered/spayed and made pets out of. My Dad always said we'd have an elephant in the living room if I could figure out how to squeeze one through the backdoor.
7. I treated myself to a delicious breakfast this morning-- a big hunk of homemade vegan whole wheat cherry pistachio oat bread. I love that even though I still have issues with my eating disorder, I can (most of the time) take care of myself.
8. I have an undying faith in God. I love that by loving him, and by his love for me, I've learned how to love myself.
9. I love that I have a sense of humor. It makes it easier to get through the day when you can stop and laugh at things. I love that my boyfriend is like this, too.
10. I love myself for sharing my story. If everyone is afraid to speak about the bad things that happened to them, how will there ever be change?
Maybe this sounds a little too much like bragging about myself but that is not how it is intended. This exercise is meant to build self-esteem and strengthen self-respect and self-value.
Can you think of ten reasons why you love yourself today?
Monday, January 3, 2011
Health and Happiness
The last few weeks have been full of medical appointments and testing. Doctors are still trying to figure out what has been making me so dizzy. The dizziness isn't as bad as it was originally but it's still there. Since September I've been in the emergency room three times, undergone one CT scan, two x-rays, two MRIs, and multiple rounds of blood testing and they still can't tell me what's wrong with me. Every test comes back normal, which is good. But it doesn't help me figure out what's going on or how to stop it.
I'm supposed to see an ENT and a Neurologist, though I'm still waiting for my primary doctor to schedule those appointments. I also need to see an OBGYN because of ovarian cysts. One ruptured Thursday causing me yet another trip to the emergency room. I saw my primary doctor today and she told me the blood work I had done was basically normal, even my B-12 and iron levels. That is the first time in 7 years (since my eating disorder began) that everything has been normal! I credit it to good nutrition. I've been making an effort not only to eat enough, but to eat the right foods for my body's needs. I focus less on calories and more on nutrients. I choose foods with high levels of protein, iron, and B & D vitamins since those are the areas I'm generally lacking. I'm not interested in torturing my body. I'm interested in nourishing it.
I do have to admit that all of these appointments have triggered my eating disorder in some ways. For example, most of my labs required me to be fasting. That word alone triggers something deep within me, and I apologize if it triggers any of you who may be reading this. I understand that the point is to test my blood levels when nothing is in my body, but the very act of having nothing in my body brings back too many familiar sensations. It's like recovering from alcohol abuse only to be told by someone you have to drink alcohol before they can help you. Regardless, I overcame it, and I'm eating regularly.
Normally I request at doctors' offices not to be weighed or at least not to know what the scale says. With my new doctor, I was too embarrassed to ask for that, so I know my weight now. As you can imagine it stressed me out. It's better not knowing. Even though I am making steps to love myself and nurture myself and accept myself no matter what, hearing a number higher than I anticipated was like a little punch in the stomach. But it doesn't matter. For the first time in my life I'm realizing a few pounds are not going to be the end of me. Just more proof the grip anorexia once had on me is loosening and loosening.
Before long, I will shake her off completely. There is no doubt in my mind. Life without her is too good. I'm too strong, too happy, too free to go back.
I don't normally make resolutions for the new year, but this time I'm going to. Very simply, I am dedicating 2011 to health and happiness. That means doing everything I can do to be the healthiest, happiest me that I can be.
I wish the same to everyone reading this. Health and happiness.
I'm supposed to see an ENT and a Neurologist, though I'm still waiting for my primary doctor to schedule those appointments. I also need to see an OBGYN because of ovarian cysts. One ruptured Thursday causing me yet another trip to the emergency room. I saw my primary doctor today and she told me the blood work I had done was basically normal, even my B-12 and iron levels. That is the first time in 7 years (since my eating disorder began) that everything has been normal! I credit it to good nutrition. I've been making an effort not only to eat enough, but to eat the right foods for my body's needs. I focus less on calories and more on nutrients. I choose foods with high levels of protein, iron, and B & D vitamins since those are the areas I'm generally lacking. I'm not interested in torturing my body. I'm interested in nourishing it.
I do have to admit that all of these appointments have triggered my eating disorder in some ways. For example, most of my labs required me to be fasting. That word alone triggers something deep within me, and I apologize if it triggers any of you who may be reading this. I understand that the point is to test my blood levels when nothing is in my body, but the very act of having nothing in my body brings back too many familiar sensations. It's like recovering from alcohol abuse only to be told by someone you have to drink alcohol before they can help you. Regardless, I overcame it, and I'm eating regularly.
Normally I request at doctors' offices not to be weighed or at least not to know what the scale says. With my new doctor, I was too embarrassed to ask for that, so I know my weight now. As you can imagine it stressed me out. It's better not knowing. Even though I am making steps to love myself and nurture myself and accept myself no matter what, hearing a number higher than I anticipated was like a little punch in the stomach. But it doesn't matter. For the first time in my life I'm realizing a few pounds are not going to be the end of me. Just more proof the grip anorexia once had on me is loosening and loosening.
Before long, I will shake her off completely. There is no doubt in my mind. Life without her is too good. I'm too strong, too happy, too free to go back.
I don't normally make resolutions for the new year, but this time I'm going to. Very simply, I am dedicating 2011 to health and happiness. That means doing everything I can do to be the healthiest, happiest me that I can be.
I wish the same to everyone reading this. Health and happiness.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Four Things
This little game was originally posted by the lovely Missy and I decided to play along. I love these!
Four Words/Phrases I Might Use Too Much
* You're a wild animal.
* What the hell?
* Frickin/Flippin
* Cool.
Four Things I’m Passionate About:
* Writing
* Literature/Reading
* Animals
* Yoga/Pilates
Four Things You’d Discover Upon Meeting Me (in real life)
* I'm quiet.
* My hair is pretty long.
* I'm a good listener.
* I sing a lot when left to my own devices.
Four Things I’ve Learned from the Past
* Nothing is really free.
* Our plans are usually different than God's plans. God knows best.
* Nothing lasts forever.
* Time is fleeting. It doesn't slow down for anyone.
Four Things I Eat that Freak People Out:
* Soy everything: Tofu, soy milk, soy ice cream, soy protein powder, soy protein bars
* Healthy things: quinoa, barley, bulgar, lentils, brussels sprouts, alfalfa sprouts, pea sprouts, bean sprouts
* Vegetable soup accompanied by a PB&J on cinnamon raisin bread.
* Vegan "mayonnaise"/Vegan "cheese"
Four TV Shows I Love:
* Gilmore Girls
* Golden Girls
* Top Chef or anything else on Bravo
* Ghost Hunters
Four TV Shows I Loved:
* Jeopardy (Okay, I still do.)
* Full House (Oh my)
* The Newlywed Game
* SNL (I know it's still on air but I never watch it.)
Four Things I’m Looking Forward To
* Getting a job
* Traveling
* Seeing my neices
* Moving
Four Things I Love About Winter
* I don't like winter! Okay, less humidity?
* I can wear scarves and hats and boots and coats.
* No sunburns?
* The sky is white when it snows.
Four Ways Poor Nutrition Destroyed My Body:
* My period is never regular. When it does come, it hurts five times as much as it used to.
* My teeth aren't great. Even the wind hurts them.
* I'm cold all the time.
* My toes are purple and my limbs fall asleep.
If you are reading this TAG YOU ARE IT! Answer these questions on your blog.
Thanks Missy! That was fun.
Four Words/Phrases I Might Use Too Much
* You're a wild animal.
* What the hell?
* Frickin/Flippin
* Cool.
Four Things I’m Passionate About:
* Writing
* Literature/Reading
* Animals
* Yoga/Pilates
Four Things You’d Discover Upon Meeting Me (in real life)
* I'm quiet.
* My hair is pretty long.
* I'm a good listener.
* I sing a lot when left to my own devices.
Four Things I’ve Learned from the Past
* Nothing is really free.
* Our plans are usually different than God's plans. God knows best.
* Nothing lasts forever.
* Time is fleeting. It doesn't slow down for anyone.
Four Things I Eat that Freak People Out:
* Soy everything: Tofu, soy milk, soy ice cream, soy protein powder, soy protein bars
* Healthy things: quinoa, barley, bulgar, lentils, brussels sprouts, alfalfa sprouts, pea sprouts, bean sprouts
* Vegetable soup accompanied by a PB&J on cinnamon raisin bread.
* Vegan "mayonnaise"/Vegan "cheese"
Four TV Shows I Love:
* Gilmore Girls
* Golden Girls
* Top Chef or anything else on Bravo
* Ghost Hunters
Four TV Shows I Loved:
* Jeopardy (Okay, I still do.)
* Full House (Oh my)
* The Newlywed Game
* SNL (I know it's still on air but I never watch it.)
Four Things I’m Looking Forward To
* Getting a job
* Traveling
* Seeing my neices
* Moving
Four Things I Love About Winter
* I don't like winter! Okay, less humidity?
* I can wear scarves and hats and boots and coats.
* No sunburns?
* The sky is white when it snows.
Four Ways Poor Nutrition Destroyed My Body:
* My period is never regular. When it does come, it hurts five times as much as it used to.
* My teeth aren't great. Even the wind hurts them.
* I'm cold all the time.
* My toes are purple and my limbs fall asleep.
If you are reading this TAG YOU ARE IT! Answer these questions on your blog.
Thanks Missy! That was fun.
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