There are several ED-related buzzwords that make me cringe a bit each time I hear them: "triggering", "fear food", "thinspiration", "meal plan". Today, however, the words I am focusing on are "normal" and "healthy". I don't like either of these words because I believe their definition varies from person to person. Too often, society tries to measure everyone against someone else's vision of normal and healthy.What is normal for me or healthy for me is not necessarily normal or healthy for you. But, more importantly, what is normal for me, isn't necessarily healthy, period.
I realized this a few moments ago while enjoying my lunch which consisted of a mandarin orange, one of those 100-calories bags of popcorn, and a handful of chocolate candy. By no means is this lunch the nutritional ideal for anyone, but, for me, it's quite normal. In other words, within the context of my life,this was not an unusual lunch for me to have (usually I eat breakfast, try to skip lunch, then eat dinner, only to end up snacking on a variety of nutritionally-derelict items). While this might be normal for me, it is not healthy, even though I do little to change my behavior. It seems I need to be reminded that behaviors aren't normal just because they are repeated over and over again.This is an important concept to keep in mind during recovery. It is easy for us to fall into patterns, to repeat certain behaviors, and become oblivious to them. But we need to be self-aware enough to identify which behaviors are "normal" in the larger scheme of things, and which behaviors feed from eating-disordered thoughts and impulses. Next, we have to fashion a plan to remedy these behaviors if they are damaging or if they interfere with our recovery, our health, or the quality of our lives. I can guarantee that my substandard lunch was the product of my eating disorder. Now, what am I going to do to fix it? Stop skipping meals. Stop restricting. Eat well-rounded meals with proper nutrition to avoid absent-minded snacking and hunger-induced binges.
I also have to remember that eating disorders are not normal. Of course this seems like common sense, but after you've lived with an eating disorder for a number of years (whether you are in recovery or you are not) your life begins to feel somewhat normal because it's all you know. Even if you aren't happy with the way your life is progressing, if you're sad, if you're tired of being sick--whatever-- it begins to feel safe and normal and the desire to change things lessens. The need for total recovery fades and you begin to live this pieced together sort of life in which you are partly recovered and partly broken. You step in and out of both realms, trying on both masks and constantly swapping one out for the other. But in order to ever be truly happy, or truly healthy, or truly normal in the most basic sense of any of those words, we have to self-aware. We have to look inward, notice our patterns and behaviors, and work hard toward changing those which are negative, destructive, lazy, neglectful, or hurtful.
Otherwise, we're living life half-full.
Showing posts with label recovery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label recovery. Show all posts
Monday, March 5, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
Let's Be Honest: Recovery Warfare
Do you want to recover from your eating disorder?
Do you really want to get better? Wholeheartedly?
For the last five years or so, I have told myself and everyone around me that I genuinely want to recover from my eating disorder. The problem is, that's a lie, sort of. Of course I want to recover from my eating disorder. Of course I know it's deadly, it's killing me, it has stolen everything from me, destroyed my health, and destroyed my relationships. Of course I want to get better. Don't I? Then why haven't I done it already?
I admit that deep down I have been afraid to fully part with my eating disorder because I feel to some extent defined by it. I realize this thinking is illogical, though all eating-disordered thinking is illogical, and that is precisely the point. I will never be fully recovered unless I am willing to give up my eating disorder. It isn't going to disappear. I have to sacrifice it fully. Give it up. Burn it. Kill it. Destroy it. Forget about it. Let it go. Move on.
I realize this isn't easy. I know that recovery isn't as simple as making the choice to get better and trying to implement changes in your life; it takes dedication and daily commitment to overcome an eating disorder. Recovery is most definitely an active choice--something we have to work towards and put effort into. But I believe that if we aren't willing to let go of our eating disorders, of course they aren't going to leave us. We have to leave them. We have to put more effort into being well than we put into being sick. Granted, eating disorders aren't choices and all behaviors and compulsions fueled by our eating disorders are/were out of our control. I know that when my eating disorder was at its worst, I put a lot of effort into being sick-- obsessively counting calories, hardcore restricting, adhering to strict workout regimens, etc. Even though this behavior was fueled by madness, I put effort into obeying it. Why can't we take that same amount of effort and discipline and apply it to our recovery? Why can't we channel the dedication and discipline created by our eating disorder and turn it into a weapon to aid in our recovery?
Guess what: we can. And we have to, if we ever want to be free.
I know I am guilty in being "lazy" in my recovery. It's time to get tough. I am kicking my eating disorder's ass and setting it on fire.
Forgetting about it
Letting it go
Moving on
Who's with me?
Do you really want to get better? Wholeheartedly?
For the last five years or so, I have told myself and everyone around me that I genuinely want to recover from my eating disorder. The problem is, that's a lie, sort of. Of course I want to recover from my eating disorder. Of course I know it's deadly, it's killing me, it has stolen everything from me, destroyed my health, and destroyed my relationships. Of course I want to get better. Don't I? Then why haven't I done it already?
I admit that deep down I have been afraid to fully part with my eating disorder because I feel to some extent defined by it. I realize this thinking is illogical, though all eating-disordered thinking is illogical, and that is precisely the point. I will never be fully recovered unless I am willing to give up my eating disorder. It isn't going to disappear. I have to sacrifice it fully. Give it up. Burn it. Kill it. Destroy it. Forget about it. Let it go. Move on.
I realize this isn't easy. I know that recovery isn't as simple as making the choice to get better and trying to implement changes in your life; it takes dedication and daily commitment to overcome an eating disorder. Recovery is most definitely an active choice--something we have to work towards and put effort into. But I believe that if we aren't willing to let go of our eating disorders, of course they aren't going to leave us. We have to leave them. We have to put more effort into being well than we put into being sick. Granted, eating disorders aren't choices and all behaviors and compulsions fueled by our eating disorders are/were out of our control. I know that when my eating disorder was at its worst, I put a lot of effort into being sick-- obsessively counting calories, hardcore restricting, adhering to strict workout regimens, etc. Even though this behavior was fueled by madness, I put effort into obeying it. Why can't we take that same amount of effort and discipline and apply it to our recovery? Why can't we channel the dedication and discipline created by our eating disorder and turn it into a weapon to aid in our recovery?
Guess what: we can. And we have to, if we ever want to be free.
I know I am guilty in being "lazy" in my recovery. It's time to get tough. I am kicking my eating disorder's ass and setting it on fire.
Forgetting about it
Letting it go
Moving on
Who's with me?
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Breaking Free From Bananas
I will admit it. I am addicted to bananas. I eat one banana per day for breakfast, alongside a whole-wheat english muffin and a ginormous cup of coffee with two tablespoons of soymilk. Always. For the last four years. Every. Single. Day. I purchase bananas each time I'm at the market, regardless of the quantity I have waiting for me at home. This never changes and I don't want it to. At least I didn't, until I realized this breakfast routine was the dirty work of my eating disorder.
I realized this today when I woke up and started making my usual breakfast. I scooped out the appropriate amount of coffee beans and filled the coffee maker with water. I opened the english muffins, popped them into the toaster, and reached for one of three bananas that were sitting in a wooden bowl on my kitchen counter. All of the bananas were a little overripe, which is how I like them. As I peeled the first banana, the entire thing was rotten inside. Like, brown mushy rotten. Like, no one on the planet would find this appetizing rotten. So I tossed it and opened the second banana-- same thing. Gooey mushy brownness. So I peeled the third banana, same thing. All three completely inedible and now staring up at me from inside the trash can. The coffee had finished brewing, the english muffin had finished toasting, and I had no banana. I commenced freaking out. I paced around my apartment mumbling. Stood there in disbelief. Sent a text message to my fiance, as if somehow he could fix the Bananaless Breakfast Disaster of 2012. Just as I was considering hopping in my car in my pajamas and house slippers to buy more bananas in order to complete the missing breakfast component, my fiance responded with a text of his own that read simply, "You're crazy."
He's totally right.
I am crazy.
This is not normal.
It's not about bananas at all.
I have an eating disorder.
It's about control.
It's about patterns and likeness and familiarity in a world that is constantly changing and overwhelming me.
It's about calories, or the lack thereof. I know a breakfast of a banana and an english muffin is not substantial enough to fuel my body throughout the morning. That's why I'm tired and hungry again not long after I've eaten.
It's about my eating disorder ruining my life. It is not normal to have a major meltdown when I have no bananas for breakfast, when there is a refrigerator and pantry full of perfectly suitable breakfast foods at my disposal. It is also not normal to panic when my banana supply, or my english muffin supply, is dipping dangerously low and run out to the store to buy more. I feel like a drug addict. That's how serious I get about this. And it scares me.
I know that bananas are good for you. They're full of potassium and fiber and even have a considerably high amount of iron for a fruit, which I need because I'm severely anemic. They can also help to regulate your digestive system, and some say reduce your risk of stroke. Plus, they're really tasty and I enjoy eating them. I'm not going to stop. But I know my dependence upon them are the work of my eating disorder, so I have to break free. No more bananas for me, at least not for breakfast, that is.
I am proud of myself for labeling this behavior as ED related, and furthermore, for shutting it down.
So, what did I eat instead of bananas this morning?
I had grapes instead. Tomorrow, who knows?
Do you have any foods that you are dependent upon?
I realized this today when I woke up and started making my usual breakfast. I scooped out the appropriate amount of coffee beans and filled the coffee maker with water. I opened the english muffins, popped them into the toaster, and reached for one of three bananas that were sitting in a wooden bowl on my kitchen counter. All of the bananas were a little overripe, which is how I like them. As I peeled the first banana, the entire thing was rotten inside. Like, brown mushy rotten. Like, no one on the planet would find this appetizing rotten. So I tossed it and opened the second banana-- same thing. Gooey mushy brownness. So I peeled the third banana, same thing. All three completely inedible and now staring up at me from inside the trash can. The coffee had finished brewing, the english muffin had finished toasting, and I had no banana. I commenced freaking out. I paced around my apartment mumbling. Stood there in disbelief. Sent a text message to my fiance, as if somehow he could fix the Bananaless Breakfast Disaster of 2012. Just as I was considering hopping in my car in my pajamas and house slippers to buy more bananas in order to complete the missing breakfast component, my fiance responded with a text of his own that read simply, "You're crazy."
He's totally right.
I am crazy.
This is not normal.
It's not about bananas at all.
I have an eating disorder.
It's about control.
It's about patterns and likeness and familiarity in a world that is constantly changing and overwhelming me.
It's about calories, or the lack thereof. I know a breakfast of a banana and an english muffin is not substantial enough to fuel my body throughout the morning. That's why I'm tired and hungry again not long after I've eaten.
It's about my eating disorder ruining my life. It is not normal to have a major meltdown when I have no bananas for breakfast, when there is a refrigerator and pantry full of perfectly suitable breakfast foods at my disposal. It is also not normal to panic when my banana supply, or my english muffin supply, is dipping dangerously low and run out to the store to buy more. I feel like a drug addict. That's how serious I get about this. And it scares me.
I know that bananas are good for you. They're full of potassium and fiber and even have a considerably high amount of iron for a fruit, which I need because I'm severely anemic. They can also help to regulate your digestive system, and some say reduce your risk of stroke. Plus, they're really tasty and I enjoy eating them. I'm not going to stop. But I know my dependence upon them are the work of my eating disorder, so I have to break free. No more bananas for me, at least not for breakfast, that is.
I am proud of myself for labeling this behavior as ED related, and furthermore, for shutting it down.
So, what did I eat instead of bananas this morning?
I had grapes instead. Tomorrow, who knows?
Do you have any foods that you are dependent upon?
Friday, December 16, 2011
Starting over, again.
Thank you all so very much for all your wisdom and support. You guys are truly, truly amazing and know how to make a gal feel loved. Since my last post, I have made an effort to be more positive and to treat myself better. Last night, one of my friends on Facebook posted a link to a blog that really inspired me. It isn't targeted at ED recovery, but all of the advice listed can be applied to recovery and to every aspect of life, so I'm sharing it with all of you. More than that, I am taking the advice to heart. Maybe it seems simple and self-explanatory, but we need to be reminded of these things from time to time to ensure we are valuing and protecting ourselves.
The post is called "30 Things to Stop Doing to Yourself". Though I am guilty of most of these, the ones that stand out so much for me personally are:
#2 Stop running from your problems
#3 Stop lying to yourself
#6 Stop trying to hold onto the past
#7 Stop being scared to make a mistake
#11 Stop being idle
#18 Stop holding grudges
#23 Stop trying to make things perfect
#28 Stop worrying so much
After reading this post I started thinking about my life, my eating disorder, my recovery, choices I've made, my past, my future-- basically all of the things I try to run from daily. But you can't do that. You can't bury all of your crazy and all of your problems underneath distraction after distraction, which is precisely what I am so skilled at doing. But I'm only hurting myself.
Once it's gone, you will never have the chance to get today back again. Once a moment has passed, it's over. There are no do-overs. But there are do-betters. Tomorrow is new, unspoiled, and full of promise and potential. Tomorrow doesn't have to be the same as today, or yesterday, or last month or last year. Tomorrow is untouched, undamaged, and the perfect opportunity for starting over.
To read "Thirty Things to Stop Doing to Yourself", click here.
The post is called "30 Things to Stop Doing to Yourself". Though I am guilty of most of these, the ones that stand out so much for me personally are:
#2 Stop running from your problems
#3 Stop lying to yourself
#6 Stop trying to hold onto the past
#7 Stop being scared to make a mistake
#11 Stop being idle
#18 Stop holding grudges
#23 Stop trying to make things perfect
#28 Stop worrying so much
After reading this post I started thinking about my life, my eating disorder, my recovery, choices I've made, my past, my future-- basically all of the things I try to run from daily. But you can't do that. You can't bury all of your crazy and all of your problems underneath distraction after distraction, which is precisely what I am so skilled at doing. But I'm only hurting myself.
Once it's gone, you will never have the chance to get today back again. Once a moment has passed, it's over. There are no do-overs. But there are do-betters. Tomorrow is new, unspoiled, and full of promise and potential. Tomorrow doesn't have to be the same as today, or yesterday, or last month or last year. Tomorrow is untouched, undamaged, and the perfect opportunity for starting over.
To read "Thirty Things to Stop Doing to Yourself", click here.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Redefining my Recovery
I have been thinking lately about the possibility of seeking formal treatment. As far as ED recovery goes, I have never played by the rules. After one bad encounter with a medical professional when I was at my worst point, about 6 years ago, I swore off formal recovery and vowed to beat this on my own. But now, for the first time in a long time, I am feeling very vulnerable, very dysfunctional, and very sick of having an eating disorder.
Somehow, within the last three months, things went from good to bad to terrible. As indicated in my last few posts, after a brief relapse, I had lost 14 lbs. I wasn't eating at all. Now, I've gained it all back and I'm experiencing binge after binge after binge. It feels like I have lost control of my life again and all I can think about is food-- or, more precisely-- hunger. I have this burning, irrational, all-encompassing hunger that I try so greatly to suppress and deny. Honestly, it's exhausting. I'm not sure how I got so far off track, but I know that, once again, this thing is controlling/destroying my entire life.
I had today off of work. There were so many things I needed to accomplish but I didn't have the energy to do any of them. I spent my entire day fighting this battle between eating and not eating, switching loyalties from one side to the other and back again. Part of me wants to eat properly and nourish and care for my body, the other part wants nothing more than to lose weight. I am so conflicted that it wears me out. I starve, I binge. I eat normally. I work out. I skip a meal. I binge again. I work out again. There seems to be no logic or reason behind it. There are no decisions being made. It's as if I'm on auto-pilot and just going through the motions that some remote part of my brain signals for me to carry out. I feel so unbelievably, uncontrollably fat. It's as though moving and functioning and carrying out normal tasks are so much more exhausting because I feel like I'm twice the size I actually am. Again, I know that it's not "real", or that it isn't apparent to the rest of the world. It's my own issue inside my own head, but I can't find the switch to turn it off.
I realize this post is a major downer, but I had to say something. Until now, no one else has known what's going on with me. I have just been keeping it all inside, and I know how dangerous that can be.
I hope those of you who are reading this find yourselves in better spirits and in better health. I know that, like all things, this too shall pass. My faith in recovery has not wavered. I still believe it is possible, it is necessary, even, and that we all deserve it. I'm just realizing now that I can't do it on my own, and changes need to be made in order to achieve it.
Somehow, within the last three months, things went from good to bad to terrible. As indicated in my last few posts, after a brief relapse, I had lost 14 lbs. I wasn't eating at all. Now, I've gained it all back and I'm experiencing binge after binge after binge. It feels like I have lost control of my life again and all I can think about is food-- or, more precisely-- hunger. I have this burning, irrational, all-encompassing hunger that I try so greatly to suppress and deny. Honestly, it's exhausting. I'm not sure how I got so far off track, but I know that, once again, this thing is controlling/destroying my entire life.
I had today off of work. There were so many things I needed to accomplish but I didn't have the energy to do any of them. I spent my entire day fighting this battle between eating and not eating, switching loyalties from one side to the other and back again. Part of me wants to eat properly and nourish and care for my body, the other part wants nothing more than to lose weight. I am so conflicted that it wears me out. I starve, I binge. I eat normally. I work out. I skip a meal. I binge again. I work out again. There seems to be no logic or reason behind it. There are no decisions being made. It's as if I'm on auto-pilot and just going through the motions that some remote part of my brain signals for me to carry out. I feel so unbelievably, uncontrollably fat. It's as though moving and functioning and carrying out normal tasks are so much more exhausting because I feel like I'm twice the size I actually am. Again, I know that it's not "real", or that it isn't apparent to the rest of the world. It's my own issue inside my own head, but I can't find the switch to turn it off.
I realize this post is a major downer, but I had to say something. Until now, no one else has known what's going on with me. I have just been keeping it all inside, and I know how dangerous that can be.
I hope those of you who are reading this find yourselves in better spirits and in better health. I know that, like all things, this too shall pass. My faith in recovery has not wavered. I still believe it is possible, it is necessary, even, and that we all deserve it. I'm just realizing now that I can't do it on my own, and changes need to be made in order to achieve it.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Welcome to Michigan
I haven't written in a few weeks because I was in the process of moving all the way to Michigan. The fiance, the cat, and I are all safe and happy and tucked away in our new place here. The cat did much better with the move than I anticipated. When I moved from Las Vegas to the east coast, he had such a difficult time in the car. Moving is hard on everyone. There are still a lot of things left to unpack and sort out, but it's coming along. I started my new job a few days ago but I'm not sure I will be keeping it. The pay is great but it's very boring, not at all what I expected, and it's about a 25 minute drive. That doesn't sound like very far, but it's all these twisty little lakeside roads that will be hell to maneuver once winter comes. Living on the west coast for so long, I am certainly not used to driving on wintery roads! Plus, I drive a sports car. I am looking for jobs closer to where I'm actually living and I've had two interviews at one place so far. I'm really hoping it works out. I also plan to start tutoring and doing freelance work as well once I'm more accustomed to the area.
We have an apartment at the moment which is much much smaller than our previous one. It's a two bedroom but there's only one bath. The kitchen is tiny! I just tell myself that it's "cozy". It really is, in a way. We have a fireplace (which we haven't used yet) and a little pond nearby with wild geese and swans and ducks. We are on the first floor, which means our kitty can't go out and play on the balcony unsupervised, but there are evergreen trees around our patio which add some privacy. Plus, they're nice to look at. And there are lots of birds and squirrels living in them.
It's always difficult adjusting to a new area, but since I've moved to different states so many times during the last few years, I'm used to that. I do have a an issue with the concept of "home" which I have written about before. For so long I felt like I didn't have a home because my father passed away and my mother got rid of our childhood home and moved in with another man. I've been shooting around from state to state and haven't settled in one place long enough to create a home of my own. Now it feels like everywhere is home. Or better yet, everywhere is not home. I don't feel like Michigan is much different from where I lived before. It's all unfamiliar. It's all this uniform "non-home", this state of "otherness" that encompasses everything that is not the life I used to have. That isn't necessarily a bad thing. I think it's made moving here easier.
Part of me wants to settle here. We don't have any foreseen plans for moving, but we are keeping the option open. Because of my fiance's job, we will be here for at least a year, but most likely a minimum of three. If we stay for the full three years, that will be longer than I've stayed in any of the cities I've ever lived in except my hometown. Then again, if we love it here, we could stay forever. My fiance wants to purchase a home somewhere outside the city. A forever home. That's a concept I'm not familiar with, but I'm open to. But it scares me, too. It's a big commitment. What if we buy a house here and want to leave, but can't sell it? I'm terrified of the idea of being trapped. Maybe it has something to do with those tricky control issues. Regardless, I am open to making the best out of our stay here, whether it's temporary or permanent.
As for my eating disorder, things still aren't where they should be. While my fiance was gone away on business, I lost 14 lbs. I know. It's a lot. Since he has returned, I have been eating a lot more and I've gained back 8 or 9 lbs. This stresses me out immensely. I feel like a big blob wobbling around from place to place. I know that it isn't true, but I can't help feeling that way. I need to stop weighing myself. There are so many issues going on in the world and so many people with so many problems. I feel like me worrying over what size my jeans are is so shallow and stupid. Then again, I know that it isn't my fault, that it's not a choice I am consciously making. I'm just so incredibly tired of dealing with my eating disorder. I wish I could just forget about it. Wouldn't that be great?
I hope you're all doing well, eating well, and feeling well.
We have an apartment at the moment which is much much smaller than our previous one. It's a two bedroom but there's only one bath. The kitchen is tiny! I just tell myself that it's "cozy". It really is, in a way. We have a fireplace (which we haven't used yet) and a little pond nearby with wild geese and swans and ducks. We are on the first floor, which means our kitty can't go out and play on the balcony unsupervised, but there are evergreen trees around our patio which add some privacy. Plus, they're nice to look at. And there are lots of birds and squirrels living in them.
It's always difficult adjusting to a new area, but since I've moved to different states so many times during the last few years, I'm used to that. I do have a an issue with the concept of "home" which I have written about before. For so long I felt like I didn't have a home because my father passed away and my mother got rid of our childhood home and moved in with another man. I've been shooting around from state to state and haven't settled in one place long enough to create a home of my own. Now it feels like everywhere is home. Or better yet, everywhere is not home. I don't feel like Michigan is much different from where I lived before. It's all unfamiliar. It's all this uniform "non-home", this state of "otherness" that encompasses everything that is not the life I used to have. That isn't necessarily a bad thing. I think it's made moving here easier.
Part of me wants to settle here. We don't have any foreseen plans for moving, but we are keeping the option open. Because of my fiance's job, we will be here for at least a year, but most likely a minimum of three. If we stay for the full three years, that will be longer than I've stayed in any of the cities I've ever lived in except my hometown. Then again, if we love it here, we could stay forever. My fiance wants to purchase a home somewhere outside the city. A forever home. That's a concept I'm not familiar with, but I'm open to. But it scares me, too. It's a big commitment. What if we buy a house here and want to leave, but can't sell it? I'm terrified of the idea of being trapped. Maybe it has something to do with those tricky control issues. Regardless, I am open to making the best out of our stay here, whether it's temporary or permanent.
As for my eating disorder, things still aren't where they should be. While my fiance was gone away on business, I lost 14 lbs. I know. It's a lot. Since he has returned, I have been eating a lot more and I've gained back 8 or 9 lbs. This stresses me out immensely. I feel like a big blob wobbling around from place to place. I know that it isn't true, but I can't help feeling that way. I need to stop weighing myself. There are so many issues going on in the world and so many people with so many problems. I feel like me worrying over what size my jeans are is so shallow and stupid. Then again, I know that it isn't my fault, that it's not a choice I am consciously making. I'm just so incredibly tired of dealing with my eating disorder. I wish I could just forget about it. Wouldn't that be great?
I hope you're all doing well, eating well, and feeling well.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Hiding, Coming Clean. Starting over.
There is only one real explanation as to why I haven't been blogging lately. I could lie to myself and say it's due to all the stress of moving (we're moving to Michigan in three weeks!) but that's not it. I am not blogging because I am not in a good place right now in terms of my recovery. I am not eating enough. I am losing weight. I am not proud of this, but one thing I have never been is a liar. Over the past year and a half, you, my beautiful readers, have become my friends. I respect you all too much to lie to you. Also, I love you enough to urge you not to follow my mistakes.
I know. That sounds messed up. It's like a parent who smokes cigarettes then warns their children to never smoke. It's contradictory. It's a little hypocritical. But it comes from a place of love. It comes from a place of, "I want to save you from making the same mistakes I've made. I want you to have a better life than I've had." In other words, I am human. Eating disorders suck. They are hard to recover from, but not impossible. Recovery is worth it. This disease doesn't have to be all-encompassing. I haven't forgotten that. I will always believe that. Even if, right now, it doesn't really seem like it.
Ultimately, I know that I need treatment. I need help. I cannot do this on my own. I am no longer too proud to admit that. I have avoided formal treatment for my eating disorder for the past 7 years. I like to blame it on my contempt for doctors (you can read a blog post I wrote about it HERE) but that's not the real reason either. The truth is simple: I don't want to give up control. Hmm. Let me repeat that:
I don't want to give up control.
At this point, "control" is such an eating-disorder buzz-word that it's almost lost its meaning. But, honestly, that's really what it comes down to-- I'm terrified of not being in control. Terrified. The thought of handing my life over to a staff of medical professionals makes my throat feel tight and my heart beat quickly. I get that little pit in my stomach. I want to hide, to run away. Basically, I want to keep doing what I'm doing, even though I know it isn't the solution.
Of course, you could make the argument that I'm not in control as it is-- that my eating disorder is controlling everything. While that may be true, I am more comfortable allowing my eating disorder to manage my life than a nurse or a doctor or a therapist or a hospital bed. It's not that I don't want to lose my eating disorder. I do. I just want to do it my way.
Obviously, my way isn't really working.
I know my life is changing drastically within the next few months: I am moving to Michigan, I am (at some point) getting married, we're looking to buy a house, I am starting a new job. And I realized that, for the last several years, my life has never been calm. I'm always moving from one state to another, starting jobs, quitting jobs, moving on. Changing. Expanding. I have never allowed myself to stay put and just to be. I think that would help a lot. It's time to stay put in one town long enough to make friends, to feel familiar, to redefine my negative definition of "home" by building one of my own.
On a side note, I'm thinking of tutoring once I get to Michigan for some extra income in addition to being a professional writer and a part-time makeup artist. I've been applying for teaching positions at colleges and universities, but none have worked out yet. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. My hopes for Michigan are high. I've never been there and I don't know what to expect, but I'm staying positive. As cliche as it sounds, I'm going to let myself start over.
Fresh start.
New beginning.
All baggage left behind.
Can it really be done? We'll see.
I know. That sounds messed up. It's like a parent who smokes cigarettes then warns their children to never smoke. It's contradictory. It's a little hypocritical. But it comes from a place of love. It comes from a place of, "I want to save you from making the same mistakes I've made. I want you to have a better life than I've had." In other words, I am human. Eating disorders suck. They are hard to recover from, but not impossible. Recovery is worth it. This disease doesn't have to be all-encompassing. I haven't forgotten that. I will always believe that. Even if, right now, it doesn't really seem like it.
Ultimately, I know that I need treatment. I need help. I cannot do this on my own. I am no longer too proud to admit that. I have avoided formal treatment for my eating disorder for the past 7 years. I like to blame it on my contempt for doctors (you can read a blog post I wrote about it HERE) but that's not the real reason either. The truth is simple: I don't want to give up control. Hmm. Let me repeat that:
I don't want to give up control.
At this point, "control" is such an eating-disorder buzz-word that it's almost lost its meaning. But, honestly, that's really what it comes down to-- I'm terrified of not being in control. Terrified. The thought of handing my life over to a staff of medical professionals makes my throat feel tight and my heart beat quickly. I get that little pit in my stomach. I want to hide, to run away. Basically, I want to keep doing what I'm doing, even though I know it isn't the solution.
Of course, you could make the argument that I'm not in control as it is-- that my eating disorder is controlling everything. While that may be true, I am more comfortable allowing my eating disorder to manage my life than a nurse or a doctor or a therapist or a hospital bed. It's not that I don't want to lose my eating disorder. I do. I just want to do it my way.
Obviously, my way isn't really working.
I know my life is changing drastically within the next few months: I am moving to Michigan, I am (at some point) getting married, we're looking to buy a house, I am starting a new job. And I realized that, for the last several years, my life has never been calm. I'm always moving from one state to another, starting jobs, quitting jobs, moving on. Changing. Expanding. I have never allowed myself to stay put and just to be. I think that would help a lot. It's time to stay put in one town long enough to make friends, to feel familiar, to redefine my negative definition of "home" by building one of my own.
On a side note, I'm thinking of tutoring once I get to Michigan for some extra income in addition to being a professional writer and a part-time makeup artist. I've been applying for teaching positions at colleges and universities, but none have worked out yet. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. My hopes for Michigan are high. I've never been there and I don't know what to expect, but I'm staying positive. As cliche as it sounds, I'm going to let myself start over.
Fresh start.
New beginning.
All baggage left behind.
Can it really be done? We'll see.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Saying vs. Believing
I was a chubby little girl. I had pin-straight brown hair and endless energy. I did cartwheels and handstands on the grass hoping to impress aunts, uncles, and cousins. I made dandelion bracelets and drank kool-aid on the front steps of my grandmother's porch. I rode my bicycle all evening long until the sun began to set and fireflies crept out from the trees that lined our street. I was happy. I had thick little legs, chubby little cheeks. But I was happy.
The hatred and discomfort I felt toward my own body started when I was 8. Until then, I had never cared, or realized even, that my body was different from anyone else's. At eight 8, my two best friends were cheerleaders. They weighed less than me. They were prettier than me. They could do better cartwheels and handstands than me. They looked different in their bathing suits. I remember realizing that and being very upset about it. I understood, even then, that food was what separated fat from thin. I asked my mother once why I couldn't just chew my food up and spit it out again without swallowing it, since the flavor was all I wanted anyway, and the flavor wasn't the part that made you fat. I've never been able to forget the look of horror on her face-- the same look she gave me when she saw me skipping meals years later, when she watched me lose 80 lbs, when I admitted to her that I threw up 8 times a day. When I admitted to her I didn't want help.
Throughout the rest of my childhood and young adulthood, I continued to struggle with my weight. My mother was always present in this battle, hovering in the background and shaking her head with that same look on her face. She had always been a thin woman who could eat whatever she wanted to without gaining any weight. On several occasions I recall her telling me that she would gladly trade me places-- that she felt guilty I wore larger sized clothes than she did. I remember how helpless she looked each time we went shopping. I always wanted the cute outfits and the cute outfits never fit me-- or, if they did, they didn't look how they were supposed to. Each shopping trip led to me holed up inside a dressing room crying. Crying and hating the person I saw reflected in the mirror-- the chubby girl standing in her underwear with a pair of cute jeans that wouldn't pull up any higher than her chubby thighs. My mother always said the same things:
That I was beautiful.
That she loved me just the way I was.
That God did, too.
That he made me this way for a reason.
That I needed to respect myself.
That I needed to love myself.
That I was just as good and as worthy as anyone else.
That I was just as beautiful as all my friends.
That I was gorgeous.
That I was perfect... just as I was.
Although everything my mother told me was true, I never believed it, even when I told her that I did. It took me gaining and losing mass amounts of weight, starving myself to the point of exhaustion and physical collapse, fighting for recovery, relapsing, wanting to die, repenting, wanting to live. It took a whole decade of downward spiral and victory and sorrow and happiness and triumph and defeat and I still haven't been able to fully believe all of what she said to me. I know that I should believe it. But how do I make myself?
I've learned that recovery from an eating disorder-- and from anything else, I guess-- is like this. There is so much space between saying and believing-- so much space. I know that I need to rid myself of my eating disorder forever. I know that. And I say that. But do I believe it? My first instinct is to say yes-- of course I believe it. But do I really? If I really believed it, wouldn't I be working harder toward making it come true?
I've realized that recovery with good intentions is a beautiful thing. That's how I started-- with all the best of intentions. With a whole new outlook on life and living and loving and existing. That was pure. That was real. Somehow my definition of recovery has shifted. Maybe I've been at it too long. I wonder to what extent I am hiding under the umbrella of "recovery" because I'm too scared to step out into the rain. As long as I say I'm in recovery, then people will leave me alone and start believing it. As long as I cling to recovery, people will pat me on the back each time I falter and understand that I am trying. But what if I'm not trying anymore? What if I can't believe it myself?
I have to step back out into the rain and face the storm. I have to put the effort into recovery that it requires. It's like going to the doctor for a sore throat. He gives you medicine to treat it. What if you don't take it? Just because you've seen the doctor doesn't mean you'll get better unless you've done all that he's asked of you. Recovery is no different. It takes effort. It takes cooperation. It takes commitment and dedication and passion and determination.
Honestly, I've been running low on all of those lately. After my last post, several of you reached out to me, whether in comments here or through facebook and e-mail, telling me exactly what I needed to hear. It really touched me to hear all of your heartfelt words and it helped put things in perspective. No one else in my life knows what I'm going through right now in terms of my eating disorder. Honestly, most of them never have. They don't understand. It feels good to be honest, and it feels good to know so many people care.
Somehow I feel like the worst of this is over. That by coming clean I can exhale and slowly start to move forward-- that I can stop excusing my negative behavior and own up to it for what it is-- that I can take a step back, be honest with myself, refocus, rebuild, and set off again in the right direction.
The hatred and discomfort I felt toward my own body started when I was 8. Until then, I had never cared, or realized even, that my body was different from anyone else's. At eight 8, my two best friends were cheerleaders. They weighed less than me. They were prettier than me. They could do better cartwheels and handstands than me. They looked different in their bathing suits. I remember realizing that and being very upset about it. I understood, even then, that food was what separated fat from thin. I asked my mother once why I couldn't just chew my food up and spit it out again without swallowing it, since the flavor was all I wanted anyway, and the flavor wasn't the part that made you fat. I've never been able to forget the look of horror on her face-- the same look she gave me when she saw me skipping meals years later, when she watched me lose 80 lbs, when I admitted to her that I threw up 8 times a day. When I admitted to her I didn't want help.
Throughout the rest of my childhood and young adulthood, I continued to struggle with my weight. My mother was always present in this battle, hovering in the background and shaking her head with that same look on her face. She had always been a thin woman who could eat whatever she wanted to without gaining any weight. On several occasions I recall her telling me that she would gladly trade me places-- that she felt guilty I wore larger sized clothes than she did. I remember how helpless she looked each time we went shopping. I always wanted the cute outfits and the cute outfits never fit me-- or, if they did, they didn't look how they were supposed to. Each shopping trip led to me holed up inside a dressing room crying. Crying and hating the person I saw reflected in the mirror-- the chubby girl standing in her underwear with a pair of cute jeans that wouldn't pull up any higher than her chubby thighs. My mother always said the same things:
That I was beautiful.
That she loved me just the way I was.
That God did, too.
That he made me this way for a reason.
That I needed to respect myself.
That I needed to love myself.
That I was just as good and as worthy as anyone else.
That I was just as beautiful as all my friends.
That I was gorgeous.
That I was perfect... just as I was.
Although everything my mother told me was true, I never believed it, even when I told her that I did. It took me gaining and losing mass amounts of weight, starving myself to the point of exhaustion and physical collapse, fighting for recovery, relapsing, wanting to die, repenting, wanting to live. It took a whole decade of downward spiral and victory and sorrow and happiness and triumph and defeat and I still haven't been able to fully believe all of what she said to me. I know that I should believe it. But how do I make myself?
I've learned that recovery from an eating disorder-- and from anything else, I guess-- is like this. There is so much space between saying and believing-- so much space. I know that I need to rid myself of my eating disorder forever. I know that. And I say that. But do I believe it? My first instinct is to say yes-- of course I believe it. But do I really? If I really believed it, wouldn't I be working harder toward making it come true?
I've realized that recovery with good intentions is a beautiful thing. That's how I started-- with all the best of intentions. With a whole new outlook on life and living and loving and existing. That was pure. That was real. Somehow my definition of recovery has shifted. Maybe I've been at it too long. I wonder to what extent I am hiding under the umbrella of "recovery" because I'm too scared to step out into the rain. As long as I say I'm in recovery, then people will leave me alone and start believing it. As long as I cling to recovery, people will pat me on the back each time I falter and understand that I am trying. But what if I'm not trying anymore? What if I can't believe it myself?
I have to step back out into the rain and face the storm. I have to put the effort into recovery that it requires. It's like going to the doctor for a sore throat. He gives you medicine to treat it. What if you don't take it? Just because you've seen the doctor doesn't mean you'll get better unless you've done all that he's asked of you. Recovery is no different. It takes effort. It takes cooperation. It takes commitment and dedication and passion and determination.
Honestly, I've been running low on all of those lately. After my last post, several of you reached out to me, whether in comments here or through facebook and e-mail, telling me exactly what I needed to hear. It really touched me to hear all of your heartfelt words and it helped put things in perspective. No one else in my life knows what I'm going through right now in terms of my eating disorder. Honestly, most of them never have. They don't understand. It feels good to be honest, and it feels good to know so many people care.
Somehow I feel like the worst of this is over. That by coming clean I can exhale and slowly start to move forward-- that I can stop excusing my negative behavior and own up to it for what it is-- that I can take a step back, be honest with myself, refocus, rebuild, and set off again in the right direction.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Rebirth
One of my favorite authors, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, once said:
"...human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves."
I have reflected on these words many times throughout the years, especially in regards to my eating disorder. But, in the past, I often used this quote to negatively inspire myself. It fit perfectly. I could be reborn. I could change everything. I could alter my course, suppress what I ate, sculpt my body and emerge skinnier, better, more beautiful. I would be me, only better. I would be me, only perfect. Searching for this perfection became an all-encompassing obsession that ruined my life. I refused to believe that "perfect" was unattainable. I reached one weight loss goal only to set another. Before long, the number on the scale didn't even matter. Unless it flashed back 0, it wouldn't be good enough.
Is it good enough now?
A lot has changed since I've been in recovery. My body has changed; it's gotten bigger. It's gotten stronger. This was enough to convince everyone who knew me that I was also better.
"Better. Synonyms: convalescent, cured, fitter, fully recovered, healthier, improving, less ill, mending, more healthy, on the comeback trail, on the mend, on the road to recovery, out of the woods, over the hump, progressing, recovering, stronger, well". (http:thesaurus.com)
In other words, all former symptoms and issues vanquished. Anorexic no more!
If only it were that simple.
One does not go from Anorexic to Formerly Anorexic so easily. There is a long period of transition. A great chunk of time to think and reflect and heal and cry and eat and struggle and starve and struggle and fight and celebrate and lose and love and win. A lifetime of great, marvelous, continuous rebirth.
The quote is still one of my favorites, but I see it now for what it is: a celebration of our imperfections. An urging to grow, to try, to change and be changed. It isn't about being perfect at all. It's about doing the best with what we're given-- it's about making the decision to adapt to any obstacle-- and to grow because of it.
I may never be fully recovered, but I've come far enough to know that I am never going back. I will never treat myself the way that I once did. I am not perfect now and I never will be. Finally, I'm okay with that.
Are you?
Stop chasing perfection.
You won't find it.
Stop punishing yourself.
You are beautiful now. In this moment.
Right now.
You are good enough.
You are worthy.
You don't have to pull it together to begin recovery. You don't have to lose 10 lbs to begin recovery. You don't have to get a whole lot worse to "deserve" recovery.
You just have to let your body speak. Not your mind, your body. Your heart, your organs, your skin and blood and stomach and hands and feet and bones. Your body, the one you're hurting, the one you're depriving, the one you're neglecting, the one you're killing. You have to let it speak.
And then you have to listen to what it's telling you.
"...human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves."
I have reflected on these words many times throughout the years, especially in regards to my eating disorder. But, in the past, I often used this quote to negatively inspire myself. It fit perfectly. I could be reborn. I could change everything. I could alter my course, suppress what I ate, sculpt my body and emerge skinnier, better, more beautiful. I would be me, only better. I would be me, only perfect. Searching for this perfection became an all-encompassing obsession that ruined my life. I refused to believe that "perfect" was unattainable. I reached one weight loss goal only to set another. Before long, the number on the scale didn't even matter. Unless it flashed back 0, it wouldn't be good enough.
Is it good enough now?
A lot has changed since I've been in recovery. My body has changed; it's gotten bigger. It's gotten stronger. This was enough to convince everyone who knew me that I was also better.
"Better. Synonyms: convalescent, cured, fitter, fully recovered, healthier, improving, less ill, mending, more healthy, on the comeback trail, on the mend, on the road to recovery, out of the woods, over the hump, progressing, recovering, stronger, well". (http:thesaurus.com)
In other words, all former symptoms and issues vanquished. Anorexic no more!
If only it were that simple.
One does not go from Anorexic to Formerly Anorexic so easily. There is a long period of transition. A great chunk of time to think and reflect and heal and cry and eat and struggle and starve and struggle and fight and celebrate and lose and love and win. A lifetime of great, marvelous, continuous rebirth.
The quote is still one of my favorites, but I see it now for what it is: a celebration of our imperfections. An urging to grow, to try, to change and be changed. It isn't about being perfect at all. It's about doing the best with what we're given-- it's about making the decision to adapt to any obstacle-- and to grow because of it.
I may never be fully recovered, but I've come far enough to know that I am never going back. I will never treat myself the way that I once did. I am not perfect now and I never will be. Finally, I'm okay with that.
Are you?
Stop chasing perfection.
You won't find it.
Stop punishing yourself.
You are beautiful now. In this moment.
Right now.
You are good enough.
You are worthy.
You don't have to pull it together to begin recovery. You don't have to lose 10 lbs to begin recovery. You don't have to get a whole lot worse to "deserve" recovery.
You just have to let your body speak. Not your mind, your body. Your heart, your organs, your skin and blood and stomach and hands and feet and bones. Your body, the one you're hurting, the one you're depriving, the one you're neglecting, the one you're killing. You have to let it speak.
And then you have to listen to what it's telling you.
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?
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.
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."
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?
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Overcoming Disordered Eating & Relapse Prevention
I saw a link to this website on twitter that may be useful to people in all stages of recovery. This website, Centre for Clinical Intervention, offers an "Eating Disorder Workbook" with links to a multitude of interactive .pdf files to help you work through symptoms, identify and manage triggers, etc. There are two different workbooks. The second one, Part B, was most helpful to me, especially Module 7 "Relapse Prevention." Here are the links:
Overcoming Disordered Eating - Part A
Overcoming Disordered Eating - Part B
Hope this helps!
Overcoming Disordered Eating - Part A
Overcoming Disordered Eating - Part B
Hope this helps!
Friday, December 3, 2010
(Re) cover ed
The last few days have been a whole bunch of blah. I've been super busy finishing up with grad school. (I graduate in two weeks! Yikes!) In addition, I've been sick with the flu or maybe just a bad cold. Regardless, I've been sniffling and sneezing around my apartment feeling down in the dumpster. I've had difficulties the last few days with eating. I've had no desire to eat. It's not that I'm not hungry, and it's not that I'm consciously trying to restrict. I just don't want food. It doesn't sound appetizing.
But I've been fighting.
Appetite or not, I'm eating anyway. I'm pushing myself. It's the right thing to do. Actually, it's the only thing to do.
Starvation is not an option. It's a horrible feeling. It's a horrible word. And there's simply no place for it in my life.
There shouldn't be any place for it in your life, either.
There is, however, room for health. There is room for happiness. And there's room for hope.
Today I forced myself to eat even though I didn't really want to. I ate chocolate "ice cream". I ate chips. I ate pasta. Holy cow. I know, right? I rarely eat any of those things, let alone all of them in one day. But guess what: It didn't kill me. The world didn't stop turning. I didn't throw up. I didn't work out afterward. And I didn't gain even a pound.
Not to mention, it was yummy.
I'm so tired of being a slave to my eating disorder. The bitch doesn't own me anymore.
I have regressed, restricted, revolted, reacted, rebelled, repented, reflected, rededicated, regrouped, revamped, readjusted, refocused, reconciled, renewed, rediscovered...
and am well on my way to being
RECOVERED.
But I've been fighting.
Appetite or not, I'm eating anyway. I'm pushing myself. It's the right thing to do. Actually, it's the only thing to do.
Starvation is not an option. It's a horrible feeling. It's a horrible word. And there's simply no place for it in my life.
There shouldn't be any place for it in your life, either.
There is, however, room for health. There is room for happiness. And there's room for hope.
Today I forced myself to eat even though I didn't really want to. I ate chocolate "ice cream". I ate chips. I ate pasta. Holy cow. I know, right? I rarely eat any of those things, let alone all of them in one day. But guess what: It didn't kill me. The world didn't stop turning. I didn't throw up. I didn't work out afterward. And I didn't gain even a pound.
Not to mention, it was yummy.
I'm so tired of being a slave to my eating disorder. The bitch doesn't own me anymore.
I have regressed, restricted, revolted, reacted, rebelled, repented, reflected, rededicated, regrouped, revamped, readjusted, refocused, reconciled, renewed, rediscovered...
and am well on my way to being
RECOVERED.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Pray for Recovery
I know that it has been a few days now since Thanksgiving, but I'm just now finding time to write about it. My boyfriend and I made the 9 hour drive to Kentucky to see my family. My brother and his wife and kids were out of town, so my mother prepared Thanksgiving dinner for my boyfriend and I, herself, and her new fiancee. It was my first time meeting him. But I'm not writing about that. Since I'm vegan and no one else in my family is, (not to mention a recovering anorexic) any situation where food is involved singles me out. No one knows how to cook for me, except my boyfriend, so we made some vegan lasagna the night before and brought it over so I could at least have something. Before I met him I would have eaten nothing. I've spent 25 out of the 26 Thanksgivings I've lived through with an empty plate and a room full of family staring at me. It isn't only because of my eating disorder, although when I was really sick, I did enjoy Thanksgiving because it was an excuse not to eat. But even before that, I didn't eat on Thanksgiving. I've been a vegetarian since I was a little girl, so even then I would eat nothing but green beans and maybe a dinner roll. When my eating disorder began, I wouldn't even eat that. This year I had the lasagna and green beans and bread, which may not sound like much, but it's the most I've ever eaten on Thanksgiving in my life, so I'm counting it as progress.
Every year I look forward to spending Thanksgiving at my grandmother's house, but this year, given the 9 hour drive and all, we arrived too late to make it. My boyfriend and I visited her the next morning instead. My mother wouldn't come with us. I don't know why. She promised me twice that she would, and then she went back on both promises. It had something to do with her fiancee, but I don't know the full story. 99% of me wants to be a baby about it and get upset because she's putting the needs of this man over my needs. But how can I blame her? I'm a grown woman, not a child. I made my decision to pack up and move away from home, all the way to Las Vegas, literally putting the entire United States between us. Can I blame her for doing the same thing?
Needless to say, family issues abound. Our entire family structure is cracked and shaking. We all love each other but the atmosphere is more than tense. No one really speaks anymore. It's awkward being around my mother, and it's awkward being around my brother. It never used to be that way and I wish that it weren't now. It all happened after my father passed away, my mother couldn't pay for our house, and my brother moved in to take over payments, and we moved out. My mother dating again also has a lot to do with it. But that's not all of it. I know my eating disorder plays a part. Back when it was first developing, I pushed everyone away. I locked myself in my room and spoke to no one. I declined dinner invitations, all invitations really. I pushed everyone away and turned into myself. And now I'm unfolding for the first time, six years later, only now realizing the bridges I burned won't be rebuilt easily. But I want to rebuild them.
On the way back home on Friday my boyfriend and I stopped to see my brother at his wife's family's house. I wanted to see my nieces. I love those little girls so much and I don't get to see them very often. They didn't know I was coming. My brother told them someone special was coming but they didn't know it was me. When I rang the doorbell and they answered it, their little faces lit up and they stared jumping up and down screaming and hugging me. I only spent an hour with them but it was so good to see them. My oldest niece (she's 10) hugged me before I left and said, "Seeing you for only a few minutes was better than not seeing you at all." She's so sweet. A few days later my brother sent me a text that said basically the same thing. Maybe bridges can be rebuilt. Here's to rebuilding them.
Once we left and were on our way back home, my boyfriend drove and I sat in the passenger seat feeling sad and miserable. I was glad to see my family but I was also sad to leave them. And I was still fuming about what happened with my mother. My boyfriend wanted to stop for lunch but I lied and said I wasn't hungry. In reality, I was starving. It was 3:00 in the afternoon and I hadn't eaten anything all day except a banana and some black coffee. I was letting my eating disorder feed off of my unhappiness and anxiety without even realizing it. A few minutes later we passed a church just off the interstate. There was a billboard out front that read in big, bold letters:
PRAY FOR RECOVERY.
It was like a punch to the stomach. Had it been put there just for me?
Pray for recovery.
That's exactly what I did. We stopped for some sandwiches and soy lattes.
I know that I have a lot to be thankful for, and I'm eternally grateful for each and every blessing in my life, big and small. Even when things get crappy and I get depressed, I have to remind myself there is so much to be thankful for. It sounds cliche but it's true.
I have a roof over my head.
Food and water.
People that love me.
Breath in my lungs.
A heart beating in my chest.
That's all I really need, but I have so much more. I've come very far.
God is good. Life is beautiful. We're all beautiful.
Every year I look forward to spending Thanksgiving at my grandmother's house, but this year, given the 9 hour drive and all, we arrived too late to make it. My boyfriend and I visited her the next morning instead. My mother wouldn't come with us. I don't know why. She promised me twice that she would, and then she went back on both promises. It had something to do with her fiancee, but I don't know the full story. 99% of me wants to be a baby about it and get upset because she's putting the needs of this man over my needs. But how can I blame her? I'm a grown woman, not a child. I made my decision to pack up and move away from home, all the way to Las Vegas, literally putting the entire United States between us. Can I blame her for doing the same thing?
Needless to say, family issues abound. Our entire family structure is cracked and shaking. We all love each other but the atmosphere is more than tense. No one really speaks anymore. It's awkward being around my mother, and it's awkward being around my brother. It never used to be that way and I wish that it weren't now. It all happened after my father passed away, my mother couldn't pay for our house, and my brother moved in to take over payments, and we moved out. My mother dating again also has a lot to do with it. But that's not all of it. I know my eating disorder plays a part. Back when it was first developing, I pushed everyone away. I locked myself in my room and spoke to no one. I declined dinner invitations, all invitations really. I pushed everyone away and turned into myself. And now I'm unfolding for the first time, six years later, only now realizing the bridges I burned won't be rebuilt easily. But I want to rebuild them.
On the way back home on Friday my boyfriend and I stopped to see my brother at his wife's family's house. I wanted to see my nieces. I love those little girls so much and I don't get to see them very often. They didn't know I was coming. My brother told them someone special was coming but they didn't know it was me. When I rang the doorbell and they answered it, their little faces lit up and they stared jumping up and down screaming and hugging me. I only spent an hour with them but it was so good to see them. My oldest niece (she's 10) hugged me before I left and said, "Seeing you for only a few minutes was better than not seeing you at all." She's so sweet. A few days later my brother sent me a text that said basically the same thing. Maybe bridges can be rebuilt. Here's to rebuilding them.
Once we left and were on our way back home, my boyfriend drove and I sat in the passenger seat feeling sad and miserable. I was glad to see my family but I was also sad to leave them. And I was still fuming about what happened with my mother. My boyfriend wanted to stop for lunch but I lied and said I wasn't hungry. In reality, I was starving. It was 3:00 in the afternoon and I hadn't eaten anything all day except a banana and some black coffee. I was letting my eating disorder feed off of my unhappiness and anxiety without even realizing it. A few minutes later we passed a church just off the interstate. There was a billboard out front that read in big, bold letters:
PRAY FOR RECOVERY.
It was like a punch to the stomach. Had it been put there just for me?
Pray for recovery.
That's exactly what I did. We stopped for some sandwiches and soy lattes.
I know that I have a lot to be thankful for, and I'm eternally grateful for each and every blessing in my life, big and small. Even when things get crappy and I get depressed, I have to remind myself there is so much to be thankful for. It sounds cliche but it's true.
I have a roof over my head.
Food and water.
People that love me.
Breath in my lungs.
A heart beating in my chest.
That's all I really need, but I have so much more. I've come very far.
God is good. Life is beautiful. We're all beautiful.
Monday, November 22, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Fighting the ordinary
All men should strive
to learn before they die
what they are running from, and to, and why.
- James Thurber
Each day is becoming progressively colder which has prompted me to do something I dread each and every year: swap out summer clothes for fall/winter clothes. I keep out of season clothes tucked away in the guest room closet, so I've spent the last couple of hours dragging out sweaters and jackets and belts and scarves. I've had some of these clothes for so long. Some are too big. Some are too small. Winter after winter I pull them out and hang them in my closet. Some of them I never wear. Each year I tell myself, "I'll get rid of this one soon." But I never do. Why can't I let go?
Is it because they remind me of the past?
I have this purple sweater I used to wear when my eating disorder was at its worst and my weight was at its lowest. It doesn't fit anymore but I refuse to get rid of it. I suppose I feel like parting with that sweater means letting go of those memories, that time, that struggle that existed when I used to wear it. They aren't the best of memories. That was the lowest point of my life. Shouldn't I want to shred anything up that reminds me of it?
I want to be free from my eating disorder.
But does that mean I want to forget it?
I have no problem letting go of my anorexia. I don't want to be sick anymore. I want to be healthy. I want to be better. I want to stay better. I don't want to be defined as the anorexic girl. But I also don't want to forget that girl ever existed.
I guess I could argue that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? That by remembering how bad things used to be I can appreciate how good things are now? While those things are true, deep down, I'm not sure those are my real motives for hanging on to the past.
Maybe it boils down to identity. For a long time I struggled to define myself as anything other than "anorexic." Now, I don't consider myself anorexic. But I used to be. I'm a former anorexic. A recovering anorexic. An on-the-mend anorexic. Maybe I like that identity too much to part with my past completely. In other words,
Maybe I'm afraid of just being normal.
Average.
Ordinary.
But I know in my heart that healthy and ordinary are not the same thing. They cannot be conflated into one pathology. Healthy is healthy. Ordinary is ordinary. They should not be made interchangeable.
There are still things about the healthy me that makes me unique. There are things that set me apart from other people. I don't have to count on my eating disorder to make me different.
And I shouldn't worry about labels or parameters or definitions.
And neither should anyone else.
I've been told my entire life it's okay to be me. I am unique. There is not another me. There is not another you.
Let that be enough.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
"You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it. " - Margaret Thatcher
Today the thoughts of restricting were alarmingly loud and persistent. I haven't (really) restricted in a long time, nor have I had this much of a desire to. Normally, I'm past counting calories. I don't usually give too much thought about what I'm "permitted" to eat. That's because I don't have to ask permission to eat anymore. I just eat whatever I want. Today, however, I didn't want to eat anything. More than that, I wanted precisely to eat nothing.
I went as far, God I don't want to admit this, as to write down everything I ate along with how many calories were in each item. I hadn't done that in YEARS! Nothing good can come of this. Nothing.
I'm left wondering what to do now? Of course, I know restricting is NOT an option. It's never an option. In the end, I won. I ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Butthe desire the need to restrict, to exercise, to binge, to purge was constant. I managed to overcome, but it was hard. Aren't I too far into recovery to be dealing with these issues? I've been "recovering" for three years now. Sure, I've had slip ups. I've had relapses and set backs. But I've never had this strong of an urge to restrict and to be held accountable for every calorie consumed in years. Not since I first moved to Las Vegas. Living with my boyfriend forced a lot of my eating disordered behaviors to stop. He wouldn't stand for them. I tried to hide them, but he always found out. Eventually I gave up and gave in to him (thankfully). And we've lived happily together ever since. But he's out of town for 10 weeks (2 down, 8 to go) and I'm all alone in this apartment by myself with no one to watch or to notice. No one to tell me to eat and no one to be upset if I don't.
Plus, there's all this added anxiety with my Mom being engaged. It's a lot of pressure. Restricting, counting calories, manic exercising, binging, purging--those are all coping mechanisms--all twisted ways to handle the pressure. And I know that behavior is not okay!
I want to live!
I want to thrive!
Remember?
I thought I made this all very clear to myself.
Was my eating disorder not listening?
I have no doubt in my mind that I can overcome this. I know I will. I want to. I have to. Recovery is always the right thing. It is the only option. Being sick is not an option. Relapse is not an option. Fighting this is.
It's just that my eating disorder doesn't fight fair.
I went as far, God I don't want to admit this, as to write down everything I ate along with how many calories were in each item. I hadn't done that in YEARS! Nothing good can come of this. Nothing.
I'm left wondering what to do now? Of course, I know restricting is NOT an option. It's never an option. In the end, I won. I ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But
Plus, there's all this added anxiety with my Mom being engaged. It's a lot of pressure. Restricting, counting calories, manic exercising, binging, purging--those are all coping mechanisms--all twisted ways to handle the pressure. And I know that behavior is not okay!
I want to live!
I want to thrive!
Remember?
I thought I made this all very clear to myself.
Was my eating disorder not listening?
I have no doubt in my mind that I can overcome this. I know I will. I want to. I have to. Recovery is always the right thing. It is the only option. Being sick is not an option. Relapse is not an option. Fighting this is.
It's just that my eating disorder doesn't fight fair.
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