Category Archives: anxiety

I Just Don’t Think It’s That Simple

Today it was painful to be alive.  Every fiber of my being was uncomfortable; I couldn’t stand the weight of my body today.  It hung on me.  I felt it in my jeans and felt every bite in my stomach.  If you think I’m being dramatic, I’m not; this is how I experience things sometimes, as someone in recovery from an eating disorder.   Ask someone else you know who’s in recovery from one.

I have days like this.  Bad days.  Days when I envision myself swinging into a binge cycle again.  Days when I envision swinging into a restrictive cycle as a result of the aforementioned binge cycle.  And I went into recovery ten (!!) years ago.  Sad and destructive?  Hardly.  Realistic, I think.  Given the other comorbid diagnoses I’ve dealt with.

I’ve talked about the “once you’ve recovered, you’ve recovered!” camp for a long time.  The people who claimed they had a “lightbulb” moment and never turned back, never put their body down again, never consulted with ED once more.  OK, being a bit (a bit) more humble now, I’ll bite (no pun intended): I bet there are a select few who’ve had this experience.  Perhaps the same amount who’ve married someone they’ve never fought with, or who had a mind-numbing spiritual experience and never craved a drink again.  But for most of us bozos on the bus, I just don’t think it’s that simple.

(Speaking of that, I really wanted to drink today.  But I didn’t.  Whoop de frickin da.)

For most of us, we wake up and don’t have time to meditate for twenty perfect minutes, and no, we weren’t going to wake up twenty minutes earlier, because we were up tossing and turning/up with our kids and needed that extra 20.  For most of us, we’re shot out of a cannon when our kid peels our eyelids open with their fingers/when our cat meows in our face.  We then head downstairs to find cat puke right in front of the bathroom doorway, and in between reaching for the bathroom cleaner, silently bemoan the fact that we still owe 25,000 in student loans and will never be able to afford a house – now, now we are judging ourselves for not being mindful and worrying senselessly, and our daughter is yelling for the TV to be turned on, that ever-destructive-causer-of-doom TV, and we’re reminding her to use her manners.  And that’s only the first 5 minutes.

That is how most of us go through our day.  Well, you’ll have to excuse me.  That’s how I go through it; I can’t speak for all of you.

That’s why, when I hear people speak of “never turning back” on recovery and being “free of ED”, I am skeptical.  Did never turning back account for those six weeks post-birth when you couldn’t exercise because your body was healing and your mind when nuts because of it?  No, it didn’t.  And did being “free of ED” chide you relentlessly when you decided to restrict your eating when your father died because it was the only way you could cope?  Yes, it did, because wasn’t I supposed to do this recovery thing perfectly?  And here I was, nine years in, having a small relapse?

Being perfect at recovery doesn’t work for me because being perfect was the essence of my life-killing eating disorder.

It’s important that I can screw up at this thing, and know that it’s still ok.  That it doesn’t mean this time I lose my job because I’m too weak; that it just means I go to more meetings and therapy.  I think, unfortunately, this is a chronic disease, and that’s not marketable in the field of recovery.  It’s not marketable to say, “You’re going to deal with a little of this for the rest of your life.”  But that’s how addiction is.  You have to keep an eye on it.  It’s always in wait.

And keeping an eye on myself everyday?  Is that a tedious thing?  No, it’s actually a beautiful, heartbreaking and staggering undertaking that has only served to better me as a person.  I’ve heard people in self-help meetings claim they are grateful for their addiction, and I jive with that.  The things I’ve discovered about myself due to this journey.  And, I think it’s really healthy and humble when one can name all the parts of themselves.  The addict, the fighter, the daughter, the singer, the crier, the writer.  To dismiss one part of yourself, even a dark part, would be doing a disservice to yourself.

Don’t get me wrong; I hope to God I wake up tomorrow and magically have the hypomanic get-up-and-go that I usually have; I hope I go for a run and get those wonderful ol’ endorphins rushing.  I wish I could have someone else’s brain.  But I don’t.  I have an eating disorder and I can’t drink and I have depression.  The grace in all of this, the marker that tells me that I’m growing, is that I now know this too shall pass.  I didn’t always know that.  And that’s a gift that didn’t magically appear to me one day.  It came to me after years of hard work on myself that really wasn’t all that simple.

Another Piece of Birthday Cake

Thirty-three.

YIKES!  I turned thirty-three!

And I was thrown a surprise (well, not-so-surprise-since-I-snooped-through-his-phone) party by my boyfriend.  What a lucky gal am I!

And, respecting my introvert limits, my bf invited a small, intimate group of people, including my parents and brother.  It was perfect, but can I tell you?  I still have trouble tolerating attention on ME.  Being a long-time caretaker, I have no trouble lavishing attention and care on others.  However, when it comes to me, it seems too indulgent and undeserving.  Inaccurate, isn’t it?  But it also reminds me of my old anorexic voice.  “Take up less space!”  “You don’t need anything!”  Which, of course, is so unhealthy.  So I gritted my teeth and accepted the best of the best of friends’ praise and presents.

So, I usually hate posting food, but I wanted to document the awesome spread that we had:

We had some raw veggies and veggie dip courtesy of a Pickety Place veggie dip mix:

 

veggies2

 

 

…And some delicious pumpernickel bread and dill dip which is a family recipe of my bf’s.  Yes, I eat bread.  It’s ok to eat bread:

 

bread2

 

Plus, some amazing salsa-and-cheese Mexican dip:

 

mexicandip

 

 

And let me go back to the amazing friends I have.  My best friend, Cory Norbutus, is the creator of Heart Healthy Tips.  I love her website and lifestyle because it encourages a balance of indulgence and activity.  She is a personal trainer who believes in both indulging in Chinese food AND doing a ton of burpees in the middle of a 3 mile walk.  We met at UMass in 2000 freshman year, and the rest is history.  I’d like to think our lifestyles complement each other.  Here is the two of us on my birthday:

 

corynme

 

 

I think, per usual, the challenge for me that day lay in a. sitting with being full, and b.  not taking care of others and enjoying my day!  Why is it so hard for some of us to accept love and praise?  For me, the whole role of perfectionism in anorexia lies underneath this issue.  For example – if I’m imperfect and make mistakes, then I don’t deserve love at all.  Which is so.  innaccurate.  In fact, I believe it’s a cognitive distortion called all-or-nothing thinking.  As I spoke about in a previous entry, we are all human and mess up from time to time.  It doesn’t mean we don’t deserve love.

We deserve it just because we exist.

I will leave you with this beautiful bouquet of flowers I was given – perfect red roses and gladiolas, my favorite flower (and incidentally, August’s flower).

rosesandglads

 

Do you have trouble accepting love and praise?  What about it is hard for you to embrace?

 

PS:  The only shot I got of my birthday cake was messy, so that’s why you don’t see some cake up on this entry.

Media Mondays: Does Body Acceptance Mean An Unhealthy Lifestyle?

So my friend sent me this article because she thought I might have something to say about it.  (Me?  Never.)  And I did.  So, here’s the link –

Real Women…?

So this lady’s argument is that there’s this common theme today of saying “real women” are only size 14, with curves, and that thin or healthy women get shit on in regards to being “real”. If you scroll down, she tells you that she was one of the overweight women in the second set of pics, and then she became a bodybuilder.  Can I tell you something?  I agree with ONE of her points.  And that is:

There has been a backlash against slender people since the body-acceptance movement.  It’s true.  I bet most naturally-tiny people have felt discriminated against at times, with the boatloads of body acceptance size 14 memes floating around the internet.  The truth is, all women who don’t have botox and don’t photoshop their pics have “real” bodies.

But I don’t agree with the rest of the article.  And here’s why.

1.  One thing that bothers me is the name-calling.  Lady, how ’bout you don’t shame people by telling them they have “shitty” eating habits.

2.  She’s using her story in the wrong way.  This gal apparently lost like 50 lbs or so.  OK, good for you, I was overweight as a kid too and lost it (albeit through unhealthy ways.)  Just because I am society’s standard of “normal” doesn’t mean you see me taking the “real women” movement personally.  I’m confident enough to know I have a real body, a body that is just as real as those size 14-ers.  It’s like a white person crying because black people have their own equality organizations.

3.  I’m sorry, but if you’re a bodybuilder, I’m guessing you use extreme measures to maintain your appearance.

4.  WHAT ABOUT DEPRESSION?  This lady makes losing weight/getting healthy seem supremely easy.  And you know what?  It is, for some.  But others have to battle co-existing illness like depression and anxiety which compound the ability to lose it.  You don’t have a choice when you have depression; it’s a disease and you have symptoms that prevent you from making choices.

5.  And oh yeah, there’s class status.  Not everyone is white and middle class and is able to shop at Whole Foods!

6.  And lastly, God.  Lady, I am guessing when people say “God gave me this body”, they mean their genetics/biology.  And guess what?  That does have an impact.  I’m never going to be Anna Kendrick-sized, but I’m also not ever going to be Geena Davis sized.  Science does, in fact, happen!

Bottom line:  I just hate that women like this get 47,000 likes on an article of this quality, which is basically a shot to get money and publicity through emotional manipulation.  And my little blog just plods along…albeit happily…

(and if you’re wondering the answer to my title, it’s this…)

grumpycat

Blissful Body Fridays: Work Out To Be Happy!

running

Happy Friday, everyone!

I thought I’d share some “blissful” moments in my ED recovery as part of Blissful Body Fridays.  I was thinking back to some turning points in my recovery, and this one stood out to me today:

The day I started exercising for my mind, and not for the way my body looked.

THAT was a miracle, ladies and gentlemen, and if I could make this shift, you can too.

Let me explain a little about my process, and where I was at that point in my life.

It was about two years ago or so; I had moved to Winthrop in an apartment by myself, on the beach.  I had just moved out of the Somerville apartment I had terrorized occupied for six years prior.  By this time, I had given up a bunch of old, self-defeating habits and was feeling pretty good.  I was pretty busy in the evenings, so I realized the only time I could work out was in the mornings.  I had never done that before because I hadn’t taken care of myself enough to feel ok about running at 6am.

So I tried it.  And I loved it.

Why?

1.  My workout was done by 6:30, and I had the rest of the day to do what I wanted;

2.  Any anxiety that I had about the upcoming day was erased by the rush of endorphins;

and

3.  I felt powerful for the rest of the day.

And on days that I wouldn’t workout or wait until the evening, I would notice that my mood would be a little more quiet, my thoughts a little more racy.

(That’s why it’s so easy to become addicted to exercise!  You become addicted to the “high” of it.  It’s a tricky balance I still have to examine.)

So that’s when I realized I was working out for my mind, and not the number of my waistline.

Which was a pretty big effing deal for me.

Exercise became a lot more fun for me when I started doing it for my mind.  Before, it seemed tedious, something I had to “get through”.

And I believe I have been able to exercise long-term because I do it for my mind.  When I did it for my body, I did it in 3 month long increments (or so), and then would give it up for another six.

 

So, what about you?  Has exercise been helpful or hurtful in your body image/ED recovery/journey?

 

*Proceed at your own risk.  What works for me may not work for you.