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.

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?

How to love yourself

Christmas was better than I thought it would be, seeing as though I spent it virtually alone. I had my cat, my miniature Christmas tree, and even a touch of snow. My mother shipped the presents she bought me overnight so that I had something to open on Christmas morning. It was sweet of her. I called home and spoke with my nieces. I miss them so much. They're growing up so quickly. They asked why I didn't come home for Christmas. They don't understand the tension that exists between me and the rest of our family. Then again, it's better that they don't.

This is the first time in 6 years that I treated myself to a special meal on Christmas. And, I did it all for myself. There was no one else to cook for. There was no reason I should eat anything at all. For the past 6 years, I ate nothing on Christmas, or at least very little. This year I made myself some vegan lasagna, some garlic bread, and vegan chocolate chip cookies. I only ate one, but I can't even begin to stress the progress I've made. I've never felt like I was worthy enough to eat. Maybe that sounds strange, maybe it doesn't. I always thought I didn't deserve food. I hated myself so badly. I realize now there is no reason to hate myself. I shouldn't torture my body. It has done nothing wrong. It has never failed me. It has never asked for anything other than to exist as it is, without me torturing it. I decided to treat myself out of respect. I respect my body. I want to feed it, nurture it, and keep it strong.

I've spent too much time and energy being sick. Now, I'm focusing all that time and energy on being healthy.

I know that respect for our bodies is something a lot of people struggle with, even those who have never had an eating disorder. Most women and girls especially hate their bodies. They starve them, nip them, tuck them, tan them, criticize them, torture them, overexert them, abuse them, hate them, loathe them, wish and pray for nothing else but to change them. Why is it so hard for people to see how beautiful they are?

Why was it so hard for me?

I don't have the answer, but I have the solution: love yourself the way you love those dearest to you. Treat yourself. Nurture yourself. Believe in yourself. See the beauty and divinity and strength that exists naturally in yourself, just the way you are.

I've posted this before in another entry, but I've been thinking about it a lot today. At my old church in Las Vegas, one very memorable sermon was about self-respect. The pastor spoke about how critical people are of themselves, especially of their bodies. Then he asked:

How do you think God feels when we criticize his creation?

Because that's what we are: his creations. Beautiful. Holy. Special.

As is.

Open Your Heart

I'm glad to say my boyfriend is finally back from his business trip to Boston. He was gone for two months, leaving me here alone. In other words, the ultimate test of my commitment to recovery. It's huge for me, eating on my own. He (next to my faith in God) has been the most crucial part of my recovery. For the last five years he has taken the time to understand my eating disorder and to help me beat it. Even long before I was ready to get better, he was in my corner, fighting for me to get better. When he's around not eating or restricting is never an option. He simply won't stand for it. But, as I've said before, I can't depend on him to make me eat. I have to do it for myself. I can't be better when he's around and then fall to pieces when I'm on my own. Though I stumbled more than once while he was gone, I'm proud that I didn't spiral into a dark, dark place. There were days when I didn't eat nearly enough, but those days were rare. Most of the time I managed to eat properly and healthily. In other words, I love my boyfriend, I'm happy he's home again, and I want to be healthy for him, but I'm glad to know without a doubt that I have what it takes to be healthy for myself.

We went to the gym tonight after he got home from work. I don't like working out with other people and he doesn't either, so we do our own thing and meet up again when we're ready to leave. I was on the elliptical when I noticed a girl two rows in front of me on a treadmill. Her ponytail is what caught my attention, actually. It kept bobbing up and down as she ran. I wasn't staring at her on purpose, but I found my eyes going back to her over and over again. I felt some kind of connection to her that I couldn't explain. Something told me she had an eating disorder. I don't know why. She was doing nothing to suggest it. She was only running, steady, methodical, determined. Maybe I saw a bit of myself in her actions, the way she ran, the way she looked from side to side. She was thin but not overly thin. She looked normal. Was she? Did I look normal? Was I?

I wondered how many people around me had or have had eating disorders. It's hard to tell by looking at some one. Even people who are very thin are rarely thin because of an eating disorder. On the other hand, people who are a normal weight or even overweight could be suffering from an eating disorder without anyone knowing. Like me. At one point in my life it was obvious that I was sick. But now, no one would ever know. I'm just like any other girl there, the one to the left of me, the one to the right.

We came home and made spaghetti. I ate a lot. My brain kept telling me that I needed to burn some calories off regardless of my workout earlier, but I didn't listen. I wanted to have soy ice cream but my brain reminded me I already ate enough today. And then the ticker tape started up, the calories, ticking. 100, 200, 300, 400. I could see all the day's calories rolling out in front of me. It's tempting to add them all up and know exactly how many calories I've had. In the past, that was my only option; I had to know the number. It was the most important part of the day. It measured my progress and determined my plan for the next day. I could close my eyes at night thinking of nothing except that number 700, or 300. 900, or 0. Regardless, that number was the most important thing, next to the number on the scale, of course. Now I couldn't care less.

I'm not afraid of a stupid number.

I am thankful for how far I've come.

I hope that girl at the gym has never had an eating disorder, and I hope she never does. I wouldn't wish this on anyone.

But, for those of us who have to go through this, I just want to offer a reminder:

There is a way out.

There is life on the other side.

There are more important things than calories and fat grams and the size on the tag inside your jeans.

And you're beautiful, no matter what size, shape, weight, age, race, height, gender, nationality, religion, sexual preference.

We're only ugly when we open our hearts to hate.

So open them to love.

I'm opening mine to soy ice cream.

Yum.

“Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.” - Elizabeth Gilbert

If it isn't obvious from the quote in the title, I just saw Eat, Pray, Love. This is not a post about the movie or the book (I recommend both, the book more so than the movie. Isn't that always the case?) This post is about ruin. This post is about transformation. This is a concept I've been thinking about for weeks, since I read the book of essays by Eula Biss. I had an entire post devoted to it. Gilbert says "“Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation” and Eula Biss says, "there is always some promise in destruction." I agree with both.

My eating disorder was certainly destructive. It certainly left my entire life in ruin. But would I be the person I am today without it?

I would never wish an eating disorder on anyone. I know that most people can't even begin to imagine how serious they are--how destructive. How deadly. Anorexia is contradictory in the eyes of society. On one hand, the overly thin are glamorized and idealized. On the other hand, they're ridiculed. The point is that people are judgmental and fickle. If you're too fat they'll tell you to slim down. Once you get too slim, then they'll tell you to fatten up. I've been on both sides of the spectrum and I wasn't happy at either. Unlike a lot of people who develop anorexia, I was slightly overweight when my eating disorder began. I wasn't obese, but I wasn't thin either. By the time anorexia was finished with me, I'd lost 80 lbs. I was a skeleton. I was sick. I was dying. And it still wasn't good enough for anyone. The people who used to say I was chubby now said I'd gone way too far, as if it was their place to decide how I should look. Now my weight is somewhere in between. I'm not overweight and I'm not underweight. I'm tired of being pulled in either direction.

Like anyone else who has overcome an eating disorder or any other major struggle, I'm not left with bruises, I'm left with scars. Some of them are deeper than others. But they will all heal. I have never been content with myself. I wasn't happy when I was chubby. I wasn't happy when I was skinny. I didn't love myself high and I didn't love myself low.

Here is to balance.

Here is to contentment. To courage. To strength.

I am thankful for all I've been through because it's brought me where I am:

Somewhere in the middle between healing and happiness.

Why recovery is worth it:

In recovery, you realize your body is special.

You are worth saving.

Life is too short to be miserable, sick, and hungry.

Food has a purpose. It fuels your body to give you the energy to live.

You will remember what it feels like to hope and to dream.

If you're healthy, you can actually begin to make them come true.

When you're free from your eating disorder, you are free. Your thoughts are your own.

You don't have to answer to anyone.

You don't have to lie to people or live a double life.

You don't have to feel guilty.

You don't have to hate yourself.

Food is not the enemy. You don't have to be afraid of food.

Your hair will stop falling out.

Your stomach will stop growling.

You won't be light headed.

And you won't gain a hundred pounds.

Eventually, you'll stop fighting with the mirror.

You will begin to trust yourself.

You will begin to take care of yourself.

You will begin to love yourself.

You can start over.

It's not too late.

You are worth saving.