“Mia” —performed for “You are not alone” on 7/17/22

You know what the worst part is of telling someone that you have an eating disorder? It’s not the assumptions, it’s not the pity, it’s not even the “oh, of course you do, you’re a bisexual millennial” tropes. It’s the way that your confidant will look you– up and down– and respond with “but you have a great body!”

I’ve taste-tested a little of every eating disorder. As if eating disorders were fancy chocolates and I just had to take a little nibble off of each one to know which I really wanted to sink my teeth into. But the bulimia chocolate was the siren calling to me. And yes, I ate boxes and boxes of those chocolates, just to throw them all up.

People with eating disorders have a myriad of metaphors for their eating disorders–personalizing them seems to give us some type of comfort. Or maybe it isn’t so much comfort we’re after, but a way of convincing ourselves that the eating disorders aren’t vile death traps that we are willingly exploring. A common nickname for bulimia is “Mia,” which makes this addictive, self-destructive, lonely, avoidant set of behaviors sound like the cute and super hip young woman with blue hair that lives in the brownstone next door. Naturally, Mia and I became fast friends.

As I began to craft this essay for y’all, I felt some fears creep up: what if I make eating disorders sound glamorous to others and they want to take Mia out for a spin (because I certainly was obsessively in love with her for a dozen or so years)?... or what if I remind myself of Mia’s sexy side and I want to ask her over?… just for a one night stand, of course.

And so, to counteract my fears, I offer you the reality of what bulimia was, for me: I wake up at 6am to go for a 6 mile run on an empty stomach. I grab a coffee, as breakfast, on the way into my PhD-student desk. I work until lunch, by which time I will be starved, but I only allow myself to eat a salad. I work until 4, and then eat a 90 calorie granola bar on the way to the gym where I teach 1 –or 2– fitness classes, and probably hit the gym afterward. I ignore my friends’ invites for a drink, citing the work I need to get done on my dissertation, and head home, stopping at a grocery store on the way.

A grocery store that I have on rotation–since I don’t want to be seen at a grocery store more than once or twice a week… and I need more food every night. I limit myself to $20 dollars worth of food to binge, because I cannot afford how much food I want to eat and throw up each day.

I shamefully pack the groceries and head back to my house, already drinking part of the 2L of diet soda and scarfing down the carrots I bought. Diet soda because the more liquid I consume, the easier the food will be to come up; carrots because they are bright orange and will signify to me, as I'm throwing up, that I've hit the end of the food in my stomach.

As soon as I’m home, I sit in front of the tv and eat all of the food I have purchased, as fast as I can, which usually means a couple bags of groceries in an hour, which is too much food to eat at once, and it makes my stomach stick out so far that it looks like I’m actually pregnant with this food baby and the baby kicks and causes intensely sharp jabs of pain.

Then, it’s time to throw up all the food. As I walk toward the bathroom I am afraid–what if I can’t get it all up? What if I purge so hard I pop a blood vessel? What if my teeth hit my knuckles with too much velocity and deepen the cuts that are already there?

But these fears are never enough to stop the process, and I begin sticking fingers down my throat. There are days when my fingers are not enough and I resort to a plastic bag. These days tears are streaming down my face as I purge. There is a constant process of examining everything that comes up, to try to remember how much more food is still to come, and then washing my hands to get the half chewed food off of them before sticking them back down my throat. I rinse my mouth obsessively between each purge in an effort to slow down the accelerated tooth decay I’m creating. The purging usually takes as long as the binging did–about an hour, and I’m left feeling exhausted, depleted, and ashamed at the end.

I brush my teeth thoroughly and stumble into my bed, promising myself that I will not do this again tomorrow, but knowing that I probably will. And then I wake, at 6am, dehydrated and depressed, and begin it all over again.

So, you may be thinking, Mia sounds like a real bitch–why were you so obsessed with her? The best way I can explain it is that she’s like that toxic ex you have that you just can’t seem to get out from under. An ex that texts you every fucking day. An ex that you’re reminded of EVERYWHERE you go. An ex that seems like they might leave you alone for a day, which only serves to make them more attractive.

And it is somehow easy to be seduced–over and over again. And the worst part is, you know that bitch Mia is out there fooling around with SO MANY OTHER people–getting them to fall for her same old shitty lines.

Which is fucking bullshit.

And we need to talk about her–out loud. Because it’s in the silence that toxic relationships take over your life.

When I started going to art therapy, the first of many tools that eventually helped me claw my way out of Mia’s arms, I met an older woman who had anorexia and a young mother who had bulimia. I remembered thinking to myself, “oh, yeah, one day I’ll be a mother with bulimia; one day I’ll be an older woman with anorexia.” Not because that’s what I wanted necessarily, but because I could see no way out: I didn’t know anyone who had recovered from an eating disorder.

But, once I decided I WANTED to let go of Mia, my tool box expanded and suddenly I began to chip away at the fake news living in my head. Through art therapy, practicing embodied movement like yoga and dance, and by processing through blogging and other forms of writing, I did find my way out of this decade long love affair. And, so, today, at least 5 years since any fingers, or, well, any of my fingers, have been in my mouth, I am so proud to stand here, smile, and say, "Mia who?"

next destiny

tonight i got a text from my husband; it told me that i'm now divorced.  four years after our split, we are finally divorced.

i didn't know how to reply to the text.  i wanted to say something elegant; i wanted to process everything i was feeling; i wanted us to heal our wounds. 

i replied "oh my god."

*****************************************

i did a two day teacher training with elena this weekend.  upon arriving, elena had us draw cards from a deck.  each card had a quote.  mine was:

Watch your thoughts, they become words;
watch your words, they become actions;
watch your actions, they become habits;
watch your habits, they become character;
watch your character, for it becomes your destiny.
--FRANK OUTLAW

i like the quote; i like thinking that what we practice becomes us. i also like that we can create our destiny; and, that if we read deeper, we can change our destiny.

which is what i've been focusing on for the past 5 weeks. 37 days of no calorie counting, no drinking, no mood altering anything.   each day has gotten easier.  and now i feel better than normal about food and exercise. better than normal because i know what it is like to feel so undeniably obsessed with it. saturday i drank a juice without examining the calorie label.  sunday i'm pretty sure i had four full meals.  monday i ate some yogurt from a larger tub without measuring out a 1/2 cup serving so i'd know the calorie count.  these things all seem like actual miracles to me.

sunday night, at the end of the yoga training, i approached elena in a panic about my 40 days being almost up.  elena looked me in the eyes, grabbed my mala beads that were around my neck, pulled my face nose to nose with hers, and told me that she had an easy solution: she assigned me 40 more days.  i instantly felt relieved and thus knew that she was right in her assignment.

and i started to think about what it really was that i was in recovery from.  yes, the eating disorder; yes, i'm not using other substances right now... but was there a single addiction here? 

i think it's that i was addicted to numbing feelings and avoiding feeling hard emotions. and i do need another 40 days to continue to find my way without returning to any of the number of avoidant crutches i've used.

*****************************************

it's that addiction which i will now openly credit with accelerating the dissolution of my past relationships. 

processing the text tonight was surprisingly hard, despite the fact that the divorce was not at all sudden. friends questioned "is it because it's the end of a chapter?" "is it because you weren't expecting it?" "is it because of the way he told you?"  i kept saying that i didn't know.  lydia facetimed me from sydney, immediately upon receiving my text, and encouraged me to cry it out and try to determine what i was feeling.  when i still couldn't understand it, she prescribed meditation.

i meditated.  i sat.  i followed my breath.  i was present.  all the attempted processing, the breathing, even the meditation didn't identify what felt so hard about that text.  but, i did what i've almost never done: i sat with the hard feelings. instead of allowing myself to shrink inside a constricted breath, i was able to expand my breathing.

i would tell my best friend, who just soberly processed the death of her grandmother so beautifully: i'm proud of you.  I'M SO PROUD OF YOU.

so i breathe a deep breath, an expanded breath, into that pride i try to direct back toward myself. 

and i swear i can feel my next destiny inside that breath.

icarus

it's the evening of day 20 of my 40 day challenge.  40 days of no substances and no calorie counting.  20 days in: i've learned a few things.

a la movies 

 

no substances: i'm fun, and can party just as ridiculously sans alcohol.  i've been out with friends drinking late on weekend evenings, dancing til the wee hours, totally sober.  well, okay, maybe the diet cokes hyped me up a bit. so maybe 99% sober. 

some people haven't been inviting me to things as much, fearful that i wouldn't go or that i wouldn't have fun without being able to drink. but i don't blame them; i would probably suspect the same of most of my friends. luckily i also have a bestie who is doing the challenge with me.  and we look very cute sober at a movie on a saturday night.

first dates, cocktail parties where i don't know anyone, and business dinners are all a little terrifying without any alcohol. however, i've met a few brave dates open to the challenge, and made friends at parties and dinners despite the sobriety.

personally, i've been feeling more confident and happy: realizing i'm fun on my own and that i can make it through these events sober has translated into less fear overall.   the confidence has even bled into other areas of my life.  i've stood up for myself with colleagues that weren't listening to my expertise, and i've expressed my needs to friends and partners more readily. 

it's also made me much more sympathetic to people who have quit drinking.  i've always thought that recovering from bulimia was very hard because food is something that is necessary: you cannot exist in a world where people do not eat.  although i had sympathy for anyone in any type of recovery, i still felt like "but you don't HAVE to be around (insert drug or alcohol here) if you don't want to!"

but i don't know how true that is for alcohol, really.  it's quite pervasive in our social lives.  although i'm quite happy not drinking right now, i also know that it's not forever.  so to my sober peeps: i'm sorry if i minimized your struggle, even if only in my own mind.  also: i'm totes up for sober parties, even after my 40 days are up.

no counting: eating without counting every bite and calculating each calorie is way less stressful.  i never liked counting every chip at the mexican restaurant, or estimating how many tablespoons of ketchup i just squeezed on to my plate. i was doing it to ease the craziness in my brain, but it was actually only contributing to it.  (i know, i know, if you have never dealt with this issue, it sounds like a "DUH" statement.)

i'm more present when i'm eating with friends.  i listen to them talking instead of re-counting the number of calories i have consumed thus far at the meal.  i can reply to them and engage in conversation instead of calculating whether i have enough calories left in my day to have a bite of the dessert they ordered.

it has been hard, a million moments of each day.  i've created a few thought exercises to distract myself when i start to try to count something on my plate when eating alone or start to try to remember all the things i've eaten in a day. (they involve trying to remember very minute details in other areas of my life.) but, in general, it feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.  not basing my self-value on a number, and whether or not i feel like it is the right number, is freeing. 

i no longer wake up after a day where i decided i had 200 too many calories with a sense of dread: a feeling that i had to make up for being "bad" the day before by eating less or exercising extra, trying to find extra time for working out or brainstorming places to save calories.  or even panicking because i might have a social event in the evening that i knew would involve alcohol--and extra calories. which leads me to the following. 

and the combo of the two: alcohol has calories. i've definitely played the sorority girl game of eating less to drink more.  i've run extra to drink more.  i've chosen which drinks to enjoy based on their calorie count (no different than foods).

not drinking for the past few weeks has taught me how afraid of alcohol calories i really am: on mornings of social functions i used to feel anxiety.  lately i have not.  and, scarily enough, i've realized it's because i don't feel internal pressure to run an extra few miles to prep for the looming alcohol calories. i can workout the normal amount without the fear of "going over" the calorie count i've allotted for my day.

and i've also started to become terrified for the time when the 40 days is up.  not counting calories has been a really big step in my recovery.  what if i'm not able to refrain from calorie counting when i introduce alcohol back into the equation? what if i try to go overboard on running (again)? what if...

yeah.

if it was one of my friends saying things like this to me, i'd give the advice i always do: wasting time worrying about this in advance of the actual situation is not helpful.  and so, i keep up the meditation and the yoga.  i practice.  and i trust that i can keep flying that line between the sea and the sun.

goals

a friend texted me today: "your body is a huge goal of mine... i really love how amazing you look and how you embrace yourself.  spring cooper = fitness goals!"

she said that immediately after receiving this photo from me.  so i instantly thought "she's only saying that bc i know how to take things at amazing angles that make me look better than i am."

i then had to sit with what she said for a minute and think "she has seen me in a swimsuit; she knows what i really look like."

all week i've been feeling bad about my body: comparing myself to others and judging myself. sometimes are harder than others and sometimes i can't identify why. this week was one of those times.  i heard my head yell eating disordered thoughts at me several times this week and weekend.  some of the times i was able to talk back to it; some of the times i was not. (that doesn't mean i ended up binging and purging; it means i ended up believing what it said too much of the time.)

believing harsh thoughts your head screams at you sucks.  it's hard enough when someone else says something.  but when you tell yourself something, you sometimes forget that you CAN fight it.

but the thing is that you can always rephrase. you just have to remember that you can. thank you rachel for reminding me.

lighting? check.  angle? check.  filter? check.  perfect selfie? check.  perfect body? every body is perfect.  including mine.

quantifying self-worth

i listened to a podcast today about quantified bodies: i.e. how health trackers are turning our lives into a numbers game.  as the podcast started, i almost switched to a different one for my run.  the very idea of listening to a podcast about tracking food and exercise seemed like it could be triggering for me: i've spent the past few years trying to STOP quantifying things in my life.  but, the hook reeled me in, and i listened.

and then i got mad.

i started tracking dietary and exercise habits from a very young age, way before there were tech things to assist the pursuit.  i slowly let go of several of these, though i secretly still keep a daily running calorie total in my phone, just so i know where i am for the day. someone saw me updating it the other night, which i usually try to do when no one is looking, and the shame hit me square in the face. i tried to play it cool, but i was so embarrassed.  

just so i can feel some pride in the face of admitting that, the things i have stopped tracking: 

writing down all food consumed and amounts; 

tracking daily grams of fat, protein, and fiber; 

cataloging exercise/activity i participated in each day on paper and then in an online calorie tracker; detailing written explanations for days taken off;

and i finally threw away the years of notebooks i had kept these things in.

and i'm sure there are more things that i've forgotten i used to track.

when i found out my iphone 6 was tracking all of my mileage, i panicked.  i had purposefully NOT gotten a fitbit when all of my friends did.  i do not have a smart watch.  i stopped using the map my run and runkeeper apps. yes, i still run a lot.  but not being as exact about my mileage means i can't try to be super exact with my calorie balancing.  truth: i now check the mileage in my health app on my iphone several times a day. 

let me get to the point: i think quantifying calories in/calories out is quite problematic.  i'm not talking about using a GPS watch to map a run when training for a race or doing a food diary for a couple of days to become aware of habits.  i'm talking about every day quantification. 

which is why this podcast made me so angry. 

there were people who called in with their stories of becoming obsessed and of letting the fitness trackers dictate their lives.  one man said that he got his 6-pack abs, but was left with no one to show them off to.  one woman talked about sneaking in extra steps around her kitchen in the middle of the night to try to beat her friend's steps for the day.  what the podcast didn't do was address the eating disorders that are developing in this new techy world.  when eating and exercise interfere with thought patterns or social plans or sleep regularly, that is an eating disorder.  

and to normalize these obsessive behaviors, to promote the extreme competition with one's self or one's friends, does everyone a disservice.  to act as if it is normal for us to all discuss each other's activity levels fosters a society that promotes eating disorders. 

i regularly get uncomfortable when people bring up their numbers for the day or week.  internally i begin to scream "lalalalalalalalala" to try to block out the voices.  i'm hearing the voice of my acquaintance, and i'm hearing my inner monologue berating me for not doing enough; telling me i should go out running again. not only is this triggering for people in recovery, but it is teaching this as "normal" to younger generations.  

normalizing disordered eating does not make it non-disordered.

my self-worth is not determined by how many steps i took today.  it is not determined by how many squats i did, how long my yoga practice was, or by how cleanly i ate.  it is not determined by a number on the scale or a fat/muscle ratio. 

yes, it is healthy to exercise.  yes, it is healthy to be aware of what you're eating.  the extremes of quantification and tracking are not.  exercise as many days as you can without sacrificing time with family and friends.  eat food that is good for you that you enjoy that you can partake in with your loved ones. 

but get over the tracking.  it's not healthy.  do things because they feel good and they make you feel good, not because some number isn't the one you think it should be.  numbers don't make happiness.  

identity of love

one of my best friends recently told that she was sad because she was no longer a girlfriend. when i asked her why that made her so sad (despite her beautiful friend-filled and fulfilling work life), she replied "being a girlfriend is the thing i'm best at."

i remember feeling like that.  i remember going back to relationships that weren't good for me, despite knowing i shouldn't be in them. despite my friends' advice.  despite any evidence to the contrary.

this friend of mine finally escaped a long-term unhealthy and unhappy relationship.  i'm so proud of her. and i know she is happy now and doesn't doubt her new life.  but i also understand her thought pattern... especially in mid-february.  identifying yourself through a romantic relationship is shockingly normal in our society.

it's pervasive: we publish it through "Facebook official" relationships; we call friend's partners by "so and so's boyfriend (or girlfriend)" instead of by name; we often expect women to take their partner's name in marriage...

i don't think any of this is "good" or "bad" necessarily, but it does become problematic when we start to identify ourselves through our relationships.  i've become lost in relationships before: i've lost my identity; i've lost my sense of self.  and that's probably why her statement affected me so strongly: because i could identify that version of myself that felt like that, and how bad it felt.

i'm really stressed at work right now: there are a ton of things we are working on.  yesterday i was looking through three computer's worth of old files, trying to find something i had written earlier to use for a new project at work.  as i searched, i found a document that looked out of place.  i didn't recognize the title, so i opened it.  this is what i found:

Recurring Nightmare

I try to ignore the constant messages I’m left:

A toxic ex who calls nearly every day.

I try not to think about the memories we share:

At restaurants, grocery stores, bars, the gym…

They persist.

The more I try to purge myself of the relationship,

The more its benefits seem to intensify:

I’m haunted by my ex-best friend/new worst enemy.

“Come on, one more time won’t hurt,

One last go, for old time’s sake;

You know you want to.”

I’m beckoned,

Seduced, and then...

Enthralled again.

I fall into the trap.

My friends tell me to let go, move on:

“You’re better than that!”

My unnatural obsession with the relationship

Confuses people

It steps on the toes of—breaks the kneecaps of—

New relationships; nourishing, amazing,

Filling relationships

And leaves me empty.

So I propose the series;

The "How to Escape Culture’s Influence" Encyclopedia, starting with:

How to Break Up with your Eating Disorder.

Written as a reference.

It would be proudly displayed on every therapist’s shelf;

It would be hidden away in every adolescent girl’s room.

It would have to be a series:
How to Break Up with your Eating Disorder,

How to Meet a Rational Attitude about Food,

How to Hook a Healthy Idea of Exercise,

How to Have a Discriminatory Relationship with the Media,

How to Marry your Positive Body Image,

How to Nurture your Long-term Relationship with your Self…

Because I know that even as I awake from the nightmare,

Again,

Another girl is falling for the same lines.

woah.  *chills*

i don't remember exactly when i wrote that, but it was several years ago. finding it yesterday, after i had already started this blog entry, seemed extra-eerie.

even though i don't like the hold bulimia still tries to exert, there's an old familiarity to the thoughts and behaviors associated with it.  especially when i'm super stressed.  feeling like all my brain power is going to academic endeavors?  easy solution: use old habits of eating/exercise/stress avoidance to get through the day.

i've gotten lost in my eating disorder before.  i've gone back to it over and over.  i've ignored friends' advice.  the familiarity, and the implicit identity that seems to go with it, is so tempting.

(disclaimer: i'm doing fine)

the point is that there is some layer, hiding below the surface, that still likes this eating disorder identity; there is some part of me that still wants to be in this relationship.  i don't think it is a big part. but the sentiment of my friend's candid admission rings true here: "i'm fucking good at this relationship."

you know what is not a good reason for being involved in any type of relationship?
because we are good at it
because it is comfortable
because we identify as part of it

sometimes the extraction is easy.  but often there's layers and layers of it to get through.

but underneath the layers?
self-love
self-identity
self

eating. sitting. being.

on a day when most of the western world recommits to being healthy by starting exercise programs, i chose the same goal, but by doing the opposite.  today i: ate food, sat still, and took a day off. 

doing that was really hard for me.  i had planned it over the past week: make sure i get in all the running and yoga i wanted to do in advance so i could start my year off with resting my body.  maybe that was cheating; maybe i should've committed to taking a day off no matter what.  cheating or not, it was still hard.

the reason it was hard was because it was breaking my routine--the same reason that starting an on-going exercise program is hard for a majority of people.

no-make-up-resting-day-cat-selfie

at brunch this morning i actually panicked about the day.  i said to PR: "um, can you plan my day for me?  what am i going to do if i don't have to spend the afternoon exercising?" he brainstormed for me, and i went home, rather unconfidently.  once home i panicked again and ended up talking to a long-distance bestie for a few hours. 

the call was an overdue catch-up that lasted until late afternoon.  once it was over i needed another meal, and it was almost dark.  i felt relieved in a way: this meant i wouldn't really need to try to invent more excuses for myself not to run.  and as i got up to feed myself and cat, i thought, "today hasn't been so terrible; in fact, i feel happy."

i don't like making resolutions--i like trying to live healthfully, heartfully, and happily.  if i made resolutions, one might include trying to live more like today.

--enter the point where i considered ending this blog post--

ok.  there's another confession.  there was something else i did in the past few days getting ready to take a day off.  this wasn't an intentional plan.  it was one that got subtly implanted by a friend and that the remnants of my eating disorder fed (ironically) quite rapidly.

i considered not writing about this; not even talking about it.  and that is a sure sign that i needed to post it. 

three nights ago a friend suggested we didn't need a whole dinner; we just needed a light snack.  two nights ago we kind of slipped into that pattern together again.  last night i chose to deepen the groove of the pattern by skipping dinner before going out to a NYE party. 

i told PR i was going to skip dinner, and he fought me, but i rationalized i had had a late brunch and didn't feel hungry. afterward i had a lovely night--i didn't feel anxious about calories, and i didn't feel anxious about the new year's day off.

and then in the middle of the night, at 5am, lying in bed, i thought "oh. my. god.  i skipped dinner three nights in a row.  that is not healthy behavior."

i'm not a meal skipper.  i've never been a meal skipper.  this morning i was horrified to realize how quickly this had felt normal.  i was also horrified to post about this; to have my parents potentially worry about me, to have my loved ones potentially worry about things they say to me over potential ramifications.

but i recognized it.  i stopped the pattern.  i told my closest friends about it for support.  i put it here. 

even deeply-ingrained patterns, eating disordered choices that have circled though my mind for years, can change. i know this.  i live this.  i choose this life. 

so whatever choice you want to make today, and the next day, and the next day, is possible.  it doesn't have to be a resolution.  it doesn't have to even be a promise or a commitment.  it's just a choice each time.  and a little faith in yourself for trusting that inner self to know which choice is the right one.

double presence (and presents)

wednesday morning i received an email with this message:

Don't wait for something good to happen to you. Go out into the world with the intention to lift up the people around you and then see as good happens in return.

Say to yourself this morning "I am a gift, my presence is my offering."

Put a smile on your face and go into the world and give your joy away.

Watch as you get joy back. Watch as the effect you have on others lights you up. No matter where you go, you get to be the loving gift others need. You get to be the reminder of a loving world.

it was beautifully timed, as this whole idea of being present and offering my presence has been ringing through my life over and over this week: i've heard it through pictures, a podcast, emails, from friends, and (of course) in yoga classes.

this blog is about offering presence. which is more than just being present. it's actually like double-presence: there's an extra amount of presence that you have to pull off to be able to reflect your presence and offer it to those in your life.

level-up.

my friend's brother made this.  check him here!

i taught a yoga class wednesday with this theme: we focused on this very idea of offering our presence as a present. we lit ourselves up with bouncy love so that it could be reflected back out into the lives of our loved ones that day. and we practiced re-wiring our thinking to think of ourselves in that way.

and then, as i made my way through the day, i watched as the extra time i spent with a university student lit her up. i saw how when i stopped and smiled and chatted to an older doorman in front of a building downtown, he lit up. i found extra energy to make dinner for my friend that evening and watched him light up in return. i kept giving pieces of myself, and i watched it reflect light right back to me.

so there were successes. there are successes.  but. being so fully present in myself is ongoing work. friday night i was getting ready for a dinner out with friends, and i changed my clothes about seven times--maybe nine--because i felt so uncomfortable in my body; too big.

trying to shrink is typical eating-disorder behavior. i can recognize that my beliefs are not based in reason.i can recognize that i'm not seeing what other people are seeing.  i can recognize that i'm sabotaging my own presence.

in that hour, i was pulling away from myself: shrinking is the opposite of fully inhabiting my body. i was pulling away from my friends: i was late in the offering of my presence. this mini struggle felt so uncomfortable to be present within. and it was the polar opposite of double-presence.

extra practice, please.

i have one friend who continually reminds me of the value of his presence. i sometimes find this hilariously amusing. but mostly i'm completely in awe. his presence is on-point.

so my self-challenge and my holiday challenge to you, as things start to whirl around you, is two-fold: 1) be so fully present that you are double present, and 2) offer your presence.

and then, see what happens.

things i forgot

last night i was in albuqurque at a little gift shop. i spent an hour there looking at gifts and talking to the shop owners about their handiwork. when it was time to pay, they asked me to pay with cash or check. when i said i couldn't, and that i was leaving in the morning, they suggested i send a check to the shop once i landed in new york.

i felt uncomfortable with this, and asked her if i could send money via paypal, venmo, or any other way. the shop owner told me, no, it was fine, just leave with all the gifts and pay her when i got home.

i walked out of the store, i felt so... weird. i was grateful. i was amazed. i couldn't believe the trust. the kindness.

the trust.

the amount of trust she put in me felt unreasonable on one level. but, on the other hand, she had spent an hour talking to me, and understanding things about me. maybe she did know me enough to trust me. maybe i should expect a level of trust like that.

trusting myself has been a long hard road.


sometimes i forget.


and then sometimes things remind me.


a television show with a character that is binging and purging where they actually discuss tips she is using to purge "better."

the podcast i listened to where they talk about pro-eating disorder websites.

these things remind me about my history: i used to visit a pro-ana/mia website every night after binging and purging. i used to look at the "recovery" section and convince myself that the reason i was on the site was to help me with recovery tips. but then i would look at other sections. this site, in fact, is where i learned many "helpful" tips.

those evenings full of self-hate led me to make promises to myself: "i can't check-in to an inpatient clinic now, because i'm still finishing my phd. but as soon as i finish, i'll go."

"i can spend a summer in germany, i probably won't binge and purge there--i won't even really have the opportunity."

but i broke every promise. i broke so many promises to myself that it became weird to trust myself. it became normal to NOT trust myself. so normal, in fact, that when other people trusted me, whether strangers; like in albuqurque; or people i'm dating, i'm alarmed. why would someone trust me so much?

yesterday, when the shop owner trusted me, i felt this glow: maybe she trusts everyone like that, or... maybe i was trustworthy... so trustworthy that she could see it?

this morning i practiced trusting myself. i ate two breakfasts: one before and one after my run. i ran how far i wanted to, instead of how far i felt like i should. i practiced a soft yoga class instead of pushing myself.

clearly it's ongoing. and maybe forgetting some of those old un-trusts with myself is another step.

maybe i should trust myself like other people do.

no.

i will trust myself.

just share it already!

I've written before about how *not* telling people about bulimia makes me feel like I'm lying. I've written before about how being open about bulimia reduces my shame and helps dispel society's stigma.

today I next-level-ed it: I let my undergrad sexuality class ask me about bulimia. (it was relevant; we were discussing the female sexual body, including body image.) I told them I wanted them to be exposed to it in a real way and encouraged them to ask anything they wanted.

I was scared to death.

I'm not sure of what. judgement? that they'd lose confidence in me as a teacher? that they'd lose respect for me? that they'd find it inappropriate and report it? --I don't think it was any of those. i think it was just the extreme vulnerability.

I planned to write a whole blog about this tonight. I wanted to unpack this a little more. but, as I sat down to write, I got an email: an email from a young academic across the pond. she has written me before, and I shared something she said to me in an earlier blog post.

"L" shared something so vulnerable with me tonight. her vulnerability in sharing this with me (when she has never shared something like this before) humbled my vulnerability in class this afternoon. L asked me if I was willing to share it with my readers, and I feel honored to do so. she didn't feel that she had another outlet, and she didn't feel like that she could post it for herself, but she wanted to feel heard in some way. I'm not posting all of it; I've edited it a little for length and I've removed anything that could be construed as "tips" or things I thought might be extremely triggering for someone in recovery. read as much as you can:

Today, I woke up with stabbing pains in my stomach shortly before 7am. The laxatives I took last night before I fell asleep were kicking in. I lay there for what felt like hours, until the pains become so strong that I knew I urgently needed to get to the bathroom. I stumbled out of the bed and made my way across the hall. The pain is always the same – so excruciating that I swear to myself that I will never again take another laxative. There were tingles all over my body and I broke out in chills. My insides felt as though they were going to implode and for a second I thought about the damage I must be doing to myself. I stripped off and gazed at myself in the mirror, sucking in my belly as hard as I could. I pressed my hand to my stomach, checking to see if it somehow felt as flat as it did yesterday. I breathed a sigh of relief - it didn’t seem like I gained much weight from the horrific 12 hour binge purge marathon I had yesterday. I looked at the scales and wondered whether or not to get on. I knew that I would be horrified at what I saw, so thought it would be best to wait until tomorrow.

In the shower, and felt so weak that every move I made was an effort. It felt like my bones weighed 3 times as much as they should. My arms were so heavy that it was difficult to wash my hair or my body. I always hate the shower; it forces me to confront every inch of myself.

I made it to my desk a little after 11am, and collapsed onto my chair, out of breath and completely exhausted. Two friends emailed to ask if I wanted to go for lunch later that day. I spent over an hour going back and forth in my mind: ‘you can’t eat today - you ate too much yesterday’…‘if you eat you won’t be able to stop and will put on at least another pound’…‘but one more day of binging and purging won’t hurt in the long run, ‘this will be the last day, tomorrow you can start again’…‘if you do this you are throwing away all of the work you’ve put into losing weight so far’…’you’re fat enough as it is, don’t eat anymore’…’fuck it, just today so, tomorrow you’re only having 100 calories’.

And that was that.

I met them at 1pm and ended up eating a pretty large dinner instead of a lunch. To my friends, I looked the same, I smiled at them and laughed at their jokes. But all the while my heart was thumping in my chest. It felt like my thighs and stomach were getting bigger with every passing second, and I wanted nothing more than for them to just leave me alone. As I ate, I was hunched over, embarrassed and ashamed of my body, worried they would think that I was getting fat.

I figured if I just kept eating until I was completely full, I could purge it all up in one go. So I ate more, I bought 2 chocolate bars and ate those at the table, left my colleagues and went to the nearest corner shop. There I spent $25 on snacks and ate it all, and by then it felt like I had ripped the lining of my stomach. Unable to stand upright, for the third time today, the pain was so sharp I had tears in my eyes as I tried my best to get to the nearest toilet. Although I have gotten pretty good at purging; it is still a difficult thing to do, especially when I’m crying at the same time. My throat was still raw and sore from all of the purging I did yesterday. With one hand down my throat, I punched myself in the stomach with the other as hard as I could to help get the food up. Even though I was sore all over, I could feel my entire body relaxing, the panic and the fear became less as I vomited. There is nothing scarier to me than feeling full. I purge quite forcefully, so I was gasping for air as I sat on the floor in the cubicle trying to gain enough composure to continue purging. Sitting on the floor of a public toilet cubicle crying next to a toilet bowl full of vomit was not how I wanted to spend my day.

I cried as I walked from the bus stop to my house. Once inside, I raided the cupboards. Anything at all that didn’t need oven time or defrosting, I threw into my bag. It was 5:30; I was so overwhelmed with panic that I started to hyperventilate. I slammed the cupboards and the fridge, took the stairs 2 at a time, sat on my bed, and ate, and ate, and ate. The pain was excruciating. It was a struggle to breathe because each time breathed in, the pain got sharper and sharper. The front door opened – my dad was home from work. All I could think was ‘I need to get sick!!’ I rushed to the bathroom, locked the door and turned on the shower. I couldn’t bare to undress and actually get into the shower; my stomach was bloated and undressing makes me feel even more ashamed and disgusted with myself. Sometimes sleep in my clothes and tonight was going to be one of those nights. But I didn’t stop there.

I went downstairs, said hello and closed the kitchen door behind me and began prepping food for another purge. I ate the additional food when it was ready. Having purged so much today already, I knew this time would be extremely difficult; my gag reflex was completely gone.

There are already 3 vomit stains on my carpet, now I have a 4th. I cleaned up as best I could.

It’s 10pm and I am completely wiped out. My entire body aches and tingles, and my heart is racing. I lie across my bed, and a voice in my head keeps saying over and over ‘what are you doing to yourself?’

for me, reading this was like a distant memory of a nightmare I had once had. the parts where she talks about the emotions and constant self-bargaining, the body-checking in every mirror, the accelerated heartrate, the self-loathing as she falls asleep. I haven't had a day like that in years. but most of her story was very similar to days I've lived through. they are days I've tried to put behind me and forget about. but I also think that there is value here.

there's value for me: remembering where I don't want to be again.
there's value for those who haven't experienced eating disorders: a tidbit of understanding.
there's value for L: she got something off her chest--and believe me, i know the value in that.

there's value for society:

talk about it,

share it,

and get it out there.

be bold

for some reason the word "bold" struck me today. i had read a blog post about the idea that the way that you tell "your story" shapes your life. the author mentioned that she was striving to tell her story in a bolder way. and i started thinking "would my story have a bold protagonist? would people describe me as bold? does pink hair equal bold? can i be bolder?"

one definition of bold is acting fearless. a course in miracles dichotomizes the world into fear and love. if we take that perspective, being fearless can be interpreted as living fully in love.

approaching difficult conversations, interactions, or situations with an attitude of love: BOLD.


i used to talk about "when i developed bulimia" before my lifecoach insisted i change it to "when i chose to start binging and purging." it took me a while to incorporate that language choice into my lexicon, but, when i did, it actually became easier to talk about. owning my behaviors put me in the protagonist's role: i was no longer a victim of circumstance; i was no longer "sick" or someone to be pitied; i was not blaming anything in my life on anyone else.

i hear people every day attribute their perceived failures, big or small, to outside circumstances. if we consistently think that our life outcomes are outside of our control, we are let off the hook of taking action. but if we recognize that we can take ownership over our pasts, of our decisions and choices, of where we are currently in our life, we can move forward boldly.

and the best part is that it is never too late to take that ownership. it is never too late to change your perspective on your story, or the way you convey it to other people. this week i had a first date with someone. during this date, i talked freely about my part in the ending of my marriage, among other things that could be interpreted as life-fails. my date listened to part of "my story" and then replied with "wow, i didn't expect to hear that; thank you for sharing that in such an honest way."

that whole marriage-ending story is one i haven't quite mastered all of the boldness in yet. i tend to say "when my husband left me" or "when my husband moved continents without telling me" because of the drama of these statements. but no one has never complimented me on those re-tellings. a few chuckles or embarrassed side-glances, perhaps, but nothing more.

the relationship stories can be some of the most challenging to own. because there is always another person there: there is always another person that can be blamed. so it can be difficult to take the words and actions that are ours within a relationship, and to own the effect they have on the outcomes. we have to let go of the hurts enough to release the want to blame the other person for the story's ending.

and sometimes we might not even know how we got to a relationship's ending. one of my friends recently blogged about the struggles of today's dating world. and believe me, i know. owning my story in unexplainable situations is very challenging--when i think that i have acted as a bold individual but feel that i have received fear in return, the boldness can feel worthless... but i think that knowing where relationship outcomes are not directly related to ourselves is also pretty bold.

i don't want to be let off the hook in any area of my life. i want to take ownership. the shift we can make and the power we create for ourselves through such boldness is impressive. we get to decide. we get to act. we get to create. we get to be the author. and fuck, i think that's all any of us want.

today, i choose to be bold.

recovery is a long word

do you know what yik yak is? if you're not under 25, or one of my best friends, the answer is probably no. it's an anonymous twitter type app that i'm obsessed with--along with all 18-25 year olds. you can only see yaks that are posted in your immediate area, so if you're near a college campus, or in a big city, it will be super interesting. (if not, don't even attempt to download it!)

you can comment on people's yaks and up or down vote them. if a yak gets 5 down votes, it is automatically removed. which is kind of cool, because it is a little self-regulating. anyway, it can be a mean place (because it is anonymous), but it can also be a super supportive place (because it is anonymous).

point of the story: a young girl posted tonight about binging and purging. i replied, she replied, i replied, etc. she hadn't told anyone about her eating disorder; she kept it hidden; she didn't know what to do.

H E A R T B R O K E N
is how i felt. and i wanted to help her: i wanted to do all the things for her. i told her about how hiding it amplifies the shame, and about how admitting it (even anonymously) was a good first step.

that admission can be SO. HARD.

i've had other people grace me with their admissions in the past, both about eating disorders and other mental health issues. and every time i feel this intense yearning to soothe and nurture; to offer support; to provide forgiveness.

i know those feelings arise from the needs i have so strongly felt in my life. the needs that i was afraid to express, and afraid to have met--both by myself and others.

this morning i did an online yoga class with elena, and she said this:

the amount of energy that it takes to resist the expressions of our heart and recoil from our divine nature is exactly the same amount of energy it takes to surrender. this energy cannot do both at the same time.

when she said that, i freaked out a tiny bit. like it struck a chord inside me pretty deeply. i couldn't say for sure exactly why this morning.

and now, i feel like, oh, yeah. it's because all i do is struggle with how vulnerable i can be. how vulnerable can i be with exposing my sensitivities, my true feelings, and my insecurities? how vulnerable can i be with admitting TO MYSELF my sensitivities, my true feelings, and my insecurities?

seeing my struggle reflected back through a younger version of myself hurt. i wanted to protect her; i wanted to speed up her healing process.

not that i'm recovered.

not that any of us are.

from whatever.

but, you know, we're all ok anyway.

we're all on this journey of recovery.

which is actually just life.

so keep recovering. keep remembering that true nature. keep forgiving those who can't yet. keep supporting them. and put all your energy into the surrendering: to the vulnerabilities, sensitivities, feelings, and insecurities. i swear it's fucking worth it.

now watch this. #love

lies: little, white, and not-so-little, not-so-white

adi climbs in all kinds of boxes!

my 4-year-old best friend adi got into a cardboard box last time i was visiting with her. she wanted to play jack-in-the-box and then asked me to close her inside the box. as soon as i began to fold down the second two flaps, she squealed, "maybe this isn't a good idea; I can't breathe!" it was kind of cute; it was kind of hilarious.


and that's kind of what i felt like today: a little trapped, a little suffocated, a little scared... and a little like i brought this all on myself... and i just wanted someone to open the box right back up for me.


sometimes i lie to myself. the one i tell myself most often is: "i don't know why i'm feeling like this!!"

i do. i always do. i just sometimes don't want to admit it.

i told my mom about my eating disorder a little over a year ago. i hadn't told my dad yet, but i didn't feel anxious about that. i reasoned that mom was the "hard" one to tell--she is the dietitian and tends to take things personally. last week i told my dad. it was one of the hardest conversations in recent memory. and then i felt very "weird" for a few days. i tried to deny the emotions that were all still bubbling. i tried to pretend i felt the same as always. but i finally called a friend and talked about some of the emotions i was feeling.

i lied to a friend this weekend. in protection, of course, but a lie all the same. the last few days i've been obsessed with exercise. and i made myself throw up--just a tiny bit--last night. today i kept thinking "why on earth is my eating disorder voice screaming at me? why do i feel so crazy?" but i denied the knowing.

i texted a friend in australia a casual question this evening and he immediately said "are you ok?" i was like "yeah, of course." but a few hours later i replied that i wasn't--and how on earth could he tell from that one question?

apparently my behavior admits things before i do. while i was with my husband, i once kissed another man while out of the country. when i came back from the trip, i apparently acted differently... FOR NINE MONTHS. because nine months later he screamed in frustration "what the hell happened on that trip?!"

oh. i'm not a good liar.

i've also felt this behavior admitting something to my world before i'm ready to admit it. but i'm still really fucking good at ignoring it. today, when i was feeling very very guilty about the purges i've been engaging in, i finally faced the source and decided to take action and un-do the lie. i'm about to untie the knot--both the one in my stomach and the one between my friend and i--and i'm scared as fuck. i don't know how he'll respond; i don't know how he'll react. but i'm finally ready.

i read this in a morning email i received the other day:

My friend is really into this man. But last night she got a text from him that he isn't really feeling the spark between them. She was crushed.

I sat with her for a while. We cried and grieved and got angry and felt sad. Toward the end of the night I said, "I know this is so painful right now, but what if rejection is God's protection?"

What if exactly the right thing is happening right now? I know you want HIM, but he is clearly not your man right now. What if he is keeping you available for a love that is moments from surprising you?

When was the last time you felt rejected?

Can you see now that the rejection that once hurt was probably the best thing to have happened? How did it redirect your path?

Like water in a river, when it hits a rock, it doesn't stop. It doesn't complain that the rock is in its way. The water sees the rock as a redirection of its path and simply keeps flowing.

When we have perspective, we can see that we were being guided by the rejection. But when we are in the middle of it, it just plain hurts.

all types of rejection hurt. whether it is real, perceived, or even anticipated. but, just like ryan says, there's always another way to look at it. and today, with all things, i'm choosing the light. because light is everything.

armor

sometimes i feel broken.
sometimes i feel like i cover myself in armor.
sometimes i feel like i'm the only one.
sometimes i feel crazy.

and then today happens.

i hear a young man say "everyone's a little broken; we wouldn't be people if we weren't."

--i feel some armor slide away.

i get an email from someone i don't know telling me that she read my blog and mentioned "I had a particularly bad day today and am feeling quite alone, and although there is no purpose to my email other than to tell you that I really admire your courage, typing this out makes me feel a bit more connected to the universe."

--i don't feel so crazy.

the email i received was from a young woman with an eating disorder and talked about how she felt alone, about some of the shame she carries, and about how she didn't feel courageous enough to tell some of the people in her life--specifically those at work.

the email made me feel so many things: empathy, sadness, admiration, gratitude... and kind of like i was a fake. yes, sometimes my blog feels courageous. but sometimes it feels like i get to hide behind it because i'm being so open here. like i have built some armor up through all the baring.

she complimented me on my career status and about how open i was with my eating disorder. it's true that i talk about my struggles and recovery status with people at work i barely know. but there are also things i don't tell them. like when i'm late to a meeting because i had to run a little longer to make my mind feel sane before i was allowed to shower and go to the meeting. or like when i schedule things around a yoga class i feel like i just have to get to or my soul will freak out. these things could be termed "taking care of myself," or they could be termed "selfish," or even, dare i say it, "characteristic of someone with an eating disorder."

there's STUFF. there will probably always be stuff. i've let go of a lot--and i am very proud of that. but there's still the little broken pieces i keep finding under the rug; the little shells of armor stuck to my skin that haven't all chipped away. and finding them can be hard.

in some ways, i don't know where this blog is going. am i trying to build up more armor for later? am i trying desperately to feel as courageous as this lovely reader portrayed me to be? what am i trying to do?

i think it's the shame that really gets to me. i carried so much shame about binging and purging... for so long. i still do. and there is so much stigma around so many mental health issues, and about seeking help for them, that i get angry at that shame. i get angry that it even exists. and when i read this email with the words "embarrassment and shame" included in it, i felt that familiar stinging in my heart.


it's only talking, sharing, and giving a face to a health issue that can de-stigmatize it. my shame disintegrates when i don't give it any power. when i told my mom about bulimia, when i told my co-worker about my bulimia, when i told my yoga class about my bulimia, when i post a blog about bulimia on Facebook, i lose the shame. it disappears with the broken pieces under the rug, it hides under the small pieces of armor still remaining.

i can't fix the world; i can't even fix me. but i also know that i don't need to. i can let go of the armor; i know i'm already whole. and i have hope that the world is ready for that.

and, to every blog reader, but especially L: the world is ready; i believe in you.

write it down

writing things down gives them an importance: whether it's in the notes on your phone, a draft in your email, or tweeted/posted/blogged publicly.

i didn't used to believe that simply writing something down gave it power. now i find it hard to believe how much power.

last year i was doing some life coaching with elena and she had us make a list of dreams for the year. i skeptically made a list, including things on the list that i didn't even think were really possible.

among the items that i had been told were impossible or had no reason to expect that would happen: 1) receive ARC funding (check), 2) become an associate professor (check). at the end of the year, when i found that list in my phone, i almost freaked out. i hadn't even applied for the CUNY job when i made that list--i had no reason to believe that i would be able to get to where i am now at that point. sure, i had a hand in those things happening. but writing them down gave them a place in my mind, a sense of priority.

the same thing can happen in reverse. do you know what else i write down every day? how many calories i've eaten and how much i've worked out. this is one of those pieces of an eating disorder that i've termed "ok" for my life. it isn't actively hurting me, so why not?

because i'm giving it power. i don't even ever look back over my past days. it just gives me some sort of comfort knowing i have it in a list.

but it's also embarrassing: when i update the list, i'm terrified that someone will look over my shoulder and see what i'm typing. i envision my friend next to me asking "why are you writing down '45 mins run' in your phone?" my secret answer: "um, because i'm afraid that it doesn't count if i don't write it in this list right this second." hmm. clearly that doesn't make sense.

i've been writing down my exercise and food intake since i was little. my parents paid my sister and i to do so when we were young--it was about making sure we were getting our fruits and vegetables and dairy per day, etc. i don't think this version was bad parenting, but i've been doing variations of this for 22 years now, and sometimes with dangerous levels of obsession. there were points when i weighed food and wrote down exactly how many calories, protein, and fat in each serving of each thing i had that day. i carried a notebook with me everywhere. now i "just" make notes of exercise and a running tally of calories for the day.

some of my closest friends know about this, but i've delayed writing about it because i was afraid of what anyone might say about the initial food diary keeping my parents encouraged. but let me say this in their defense: my sister never even completed hers when she was getting paid for it. me, on the other hand? i chose this behavior as a safety net. i chose to take it into adulthood.

so why am i writing about it now? because i'm tired of it. i'm ready to let go a little more. and i had some motivation yesterday: i received this message via facebook from amy.

Hi spring! Not sure if you'd remember me...but I was also and instructor at Penn state! I graduated in '08. I was also a BBH major! Anyways I recently completed a 200 hour yoga teacher training....amazing!! So I have been reflecting back on all the inspiring teachers I've had along the way and you're one of them!! I always loved your classes at PSU...they offered a little something more than just fitness. And you were also a great female role model to look up to as I was just an ungrad and you were working your PhD! You totally emulated girl power!! I enjoy reading your blogs because it's always on a theme that anyone can resonant with! It just shows that by being a bit vulnerable and opening yourself up you really can connect on a deeper level! Anyways I just wanted to share this with you because as I look forward to a new blog post I realized that you probably don't know how influential you are! So thank you Spring for being such a great teacher!

there are some days when writing things down makes more of a difference than we know. did amy know that message would hit me today? that it would inspire me right back? probably not. but that's what happened. (amy, that was one of the most beautiful messages i've ever received; thank you.) and i'm going to place attention a little more thoughtfully: 1) i'm making a new dreams-for-the-year list, and 2) i'm no longer going to write down my exercise activity. i want the dreams to have power; i don't want the disordered eating behaviors to have power.

when i was unpacking the things that arrived from sydney last week (FINALLY!!!), i found a notebook of exercise notes from 2008. yeah, i still had it; i always saved them. as evidence.

guess where the notebook is now? in the garbage.

i dare you to dream.

and xo amy.

yolo

this afternoon i had a response toward a situation that gave me a major urge to binge and purge. like i planned all the things i was going to buy and thought about the timing and everything. i was pretty deep in it. i even planned out how to not feel guilty about it: my best friend moved away this morning; i felt unsupported: i am allowed to feel bad. when i felt this flash of anger, my immediate response was to lash out--and i reached toward my tried and true method.

and then i remembered something elena told me to consider this past week: "who do i think i'm punishing with my eating disorder? the only person i'm fucking over is myself." binging and purging wasn't going to teach anyone a lesson. it wasn't going to bring me closer to anyone in my life. it wasn't going to accomplish any goal i am working toward.

and i really don't need to punish myself any further.

so i spent the afternoon walking sydney's streets. i ran into a few friends and had sidewalk chats; i stopped and bought some art materials; i planned and bought groceries to make myself dinner; i listened to a podcast about the history of zoos; and i had a good chat with a bff. in other words: i took care of myself. i chose not to punish myself.

most things we do to ourselves are not at all productive. but we've learned them somewhere along the way. we've chosen to take these behaviors in to our life. and it can take so much effort to choose new behaviors.

i was thinking about all this while painting tonight, and little lion man came on my playlist, and i was like YES.

Take all the courage you have left
And waste it on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head

But it was not your fault but mine/ And it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time/ Didn't I, my dear?

i like two parts of this so much. the first is the line about all the problems: all of those (insert "RIDICULOUS") problems i made in my own head. luckily i found the courage tonight to battle those spring's-mind-creations. the second part is where the songwriter claims ownership for the fuck-up. because that's all i'm trying to do. own my behaviors, my choices, my responses, my life. and the only way to do that is to recognise that i've chosen each part of where i am. and i get to keep choosing.

my heart's on the line, and i choose to give it everything. because i deserve it. we all do. and yolo.

heart courage

when i started the whole 40-day miracle process (thanks gabby!), i started to address my fears. i realized how brave i was being every day, and i told my sister about it. she started the 40-day book as well, but didn't feel like she was doing brave things as a result. i told her they didn't have to be as drastic as confessions to a parent or addressing a divorce. i told her they could be little things. she thought really hard. she finally said, "well, i don't feel comfortable talking to parents, and i had to do it all week at parent-teacher conferences."

and you know what? that's a big deal. every little thing we do that involves being courageous is a big deal. because it's hard. and we rarely give ourselves credit for these things.

i'm constantly impressed by the courageousness my friends possess.

my sister who has the courage to have difficult work conversations.
my friend who has the courage to show up for a coaching call where he feels ambushed.
my friend who has the courage to show up to therapy each week, even though it's hard.
my friend who has the courage to move from AU to the US for 3 months w/o her partner.
my friend who has the courage to make a life-move to the US from AU.
my friend who has the courage to make a life-move to AU from the US.
my friend who has the courage to come out as a child sexual assault survivor to the world.

and my friend who has the courage to finally ask for help with her struggle with bulimia.

big things are hard. but little things can be just as fucking hard.

i have struggled with bulimia. i have struggled with asking for help. i have gone around in circles in my head for hours, days, and months with arguments for not talking about it. i've made deals with myself about when i'd ask for help. i've made rationalizations about why i hadn't asked for help. i spent about as much time dealing with the struggle with asking for help as i did with the struggle with bulimia.

so i wanted to acknowledge my friend's step. because it's big. so: "hey girl!! good. fucking. work."

right now i'm making a big decision. it's still a bit secret squirrel, but it involves drastic life changes on a number of levels. i've panicked so much that i've ended up in tears in work situations; i've made pro and con lists and talked to my lifecoach (elena!) about them; i've avoided making the associated necessary plans involved with the decision; i've gone to see a fortune teller; i've stressed to the point of returning to disordered eating habits; basically, i haven't really been dealing well. it's hard, and i don't feel super courageous in this decision process.

but, regardless of how i feel, i've had a few friends tell me that i've been courageous. elena also commented on my courage. hearing it from other people helps to make it a bit more real. and i appreciate that.

we all have choices every day. we decide how we live our lives. we can be courageous: we can live in our hearts, be vulnerable, be true, and be authentic. or we can choose to avoid.

avoiding is easy; having courage is hard: it wouldn't be so worthwhile if it wasn't. but sometimes we just need a little push. a little push toward talking about something we don't want to talk about. a little push toward asking for help. a little push toward a creative new business venture.

invite: write down something you're afraid of right now. now make a step toward addressing that fear. and tell someone about your step. post it. blog it. talk about it. share it.

i'll do it too. i'm afraid that the remnants of my eating disorder will never fully let go of my life. i've been working on several aspects of this. but i've got one more step i'm gonna put out there: i will be there for my friend who is just starting to address this. and i will not let it trigger me. and i will reach out to my supports if it does. i promise to ask for help if i need it.

i chose bulimia almost nine years ago. and i've chose it over and over since then. but now i choose to live in my heart. and to have courage. and to enact courage. and to be courage.

through the rabbit hole: the new normal

i was in yoga class tonight and richard, one of my all-time favorite yoga teachers, made us do a sequence on our toes. and, as everyone was thinking "WHEN THE FUCK DO WE GET TO PUT OUR HEELS DOWN?!" he casually said, just think "this is the new normal." and how appropriate was it that i was wearing my alice in wonderland blackmilks in class tonight? down the rabbit hole into wonderland--that's having to get used to a new normal (or a new madness) quite quickly.

i laughed out loud when richard said this. (yeah, i totes LOL in yoga class.) and then i thought, "it really can be that easy, though, can't it?"

we get stuck in habits. in patterns. in our set ways of doing things. we forget there are other ways. we forget that we might have even had a different way at another point in our life.

then, something shifts. and suddenly, we're in a new normal. sometimes without even realizing we are there.

but, other times, we search for a new normal. we look for ways to shift. we LONG for any catalyst. and yet we still can't see a light at the end of the tunnel. we become sure there is not even an end to the tunnel. we decide we might as well die in that tunnel.

i've been in that tunnel. i've lived in that tunnel: i've been sure i was stuck in a marriage i could never get out of; i've been sure bulimia and exercise would overpower every thought for the rest of my life. i've been sure that my dark tunnels weren't tunnels, but rabbit holes that i would have to make the best of for my remaining days.

but you know what? there is always a new normal. there is always a fucking way out.

easier example? i thought i'd never adjust to living in australia. i thought i'd never understand the mobile phone plans (umm, i call them "cell phones" in america, guys!). i thought i'd never adjust to a more relaxed work-life (umm, yeah, that may have been a faster adjustment). i thought i'd never understand the slang. but now i eat brekky with mates, not worrying over whether i'll get to the office before that arvo, and i even offer to call my friends' mobile phone carriers to help sort their over-priced plans. it just happened: a new normal was created. and i live in it. and i love it. and i didn't have to MAKE it happen.

medium example? i've begun to be less reactive. i've worked a lot on understanding why i respond the way i do in various situations. i used to be super reactive: i would lash out when something upset me, regardless of the cause or who was involved. but, as i've worked around this, i've started to change. a few nights ago a friend was SUPER SNIPPY with me on the phone. and i found myself saying, "no, look, that's ok. i can easily change plans." after the call i thought "wow. a year ago i would've said, 'fuck you!' and hung up. even a few months ago i think i would've said, 'look, you're being a jackass; i'll just talk to you later.' but look at how i can calmly respond now!" i know i've worked a lot at it, but it's nice to be able to acknowledge this shift: this new normal i've been noticing myself creating and living.

harder example? i started to learn to appreciate food as fuel instead of calories. doing handel coaching with elena, i had to photo all my meals. AND LISTEN TO HER FEEDBACK about them. because of this, i had to have more conversations with my friends about how my eating habits affected them. i had to make promises to elena about my eating and exercise habits. i had to learn to take control of my choices and understand that these choices were giving me life.

every day of that was difficult and challenging in new ways. but 6 weeks after that food photo diary began, i think i've made drastic changes from where i was. i did binge and purge once recently: last week. but something i noticed about it? it was hard. not the physical act, but the emotional act. my head wasn't on board. it was like "what the fuck are you doing? why are you doing this? what is happening here?"

i talked about some of these themes with my friend lydia recently, and she said to me, "yeah, well, it's because it's not normal for you to binge and purge anymore; you've created a new way of thinking." oh. yeah. a new normal. my friend kelli has been trying to drill my body image shift into my head every time i see her. (i'm starting to hear her.)

this new normal wasn't easy to find. it isn't even easy for me to acknowledge: i still binged and purged last week--fighting the internal dialogue and self-trust i've built to do so. i was actively trying to NOT acknowledge my progress.

and i think that's one of the most important things here: we have to be able to RECOGNIZE when we have a new normal. we have to live in it--because that is where we are at that moment. we have to always be in the present. we have to stop letting our past dictate our futures.

i had a friend of a friend tell me recently that he had trust issues in relationships. when i asked why, he told me about something an ex had done. i said, "but your next partner isn't that person in that other situation. that person who hurt you isn't the same person they were then. even you aren't the same person you were in that situation. why would you let that experience color what might happen next?"

and he just looked at me in awe... or like i was crazy. i'm not sure. sometimes i confuse that look.

but either way, i'm appreciating the new normal i've been actively designing. and i'm super-appreciating all those in my life that keep helping me notice it (besides those already mentioned, KR, OCS, BP, AJS, MJR, SP... i know y'all got my back).

because "i can't go back to yesterday; i was a different person then!" ~lewis carroll, alice in wonderland

choosing and unchoosing #layers

layers. and layers. and layers. and layers.

oreos.
onions.
hair.
clothes.
artichokes.
cakes.
the earth's crust.
you.
me.

and my eating disorder.

so like i thought i was doing pretty good with this whole eating disorder thing. i'm not binging and purging anymore. check.

i'm not forcing myself into a marathon-or-bust mindset. check.

i'm getting comfortable with my juicier body. check.

i'm talking about it. i'm blogging about it. i'm being fucking honest. check, check, check.

so i started patting myself on the back. what else is there to work on in my life? bc that whole eating disorder thing is pretty much licked, hey?

last week i was on a teleconference with elena, who i'm doing a "design your life" course with. she called bullshit on the bulimia thing. she says to me, in response to hearing me say that i "developed bulimia in grad school," YOU DIDN'T DEVELOP IT, SPRING. YOU CHOSE IT.

ok, ok, so if we're going with the whole "i choose the life i live" philosophy, yeah, i guess i did choose it. i don't feel comfortable saying that, but that discomfort comes from the fact that it's true: i did choose it. i chose it over and over and over. i chose it over feeling things. i chose it over dealing with things. i chose it over spending time with friends. i chose it over being debt-free. i chose it over honesty. i fucking chose it over my marriage.

elena didn't stop there, though. she also told me she wanted to start an evernote notebook where i upload pics of all of the meals i eat to share with her. she wanted me to do this so that i begin to appreciate and value the food i'm eating. my thoughts, upon hearing her request: 1) she's going to be bored of seeing the same things every day; 2) omg this is going to make me focus on food more--NOT what i need!; and 3) i am going to feel judged. #layer

two days in elena sent me an email saying "no more fake bagel and soy capp; those things are killing neuronal connections and making you feel less than human." ok, umm, the things i call "fake bagels" are what i eat for breakfast every morning. when i got this email from elena i panicked: 1) she WAS judging me; 2) i didn't think she was going to suggest changes!! and 3) what the fuck was i supposed to eat for breakfast if i didn't eat that?! #layer

i discussed this discomfort with a friend, saying that i thought i had been doing good with my eating. but all of these thoughts made me realize that i was still a little obsessed with my food. and i had a conversation about how my controlling food was a form of disordered eating that i hadn't let go of yet--but i had somehow rationalized it as "acceptable" disordered eating. he told me that "yeah, it's pretty annoying to eat with you sometimes" (my interpretation of his words). #layer

hearing that really upset me. like a lot. i couldn't sleep after hearing what he said. one of the main things i've tried to do with my eating disorder is protect others from it. it's why i didn't tell my mom about it for 8 years. that's why i do huge workouts before parties or big dinner events. and i thought my friends were cool with my "pickiness," but it turns out that maybe they just don't always tell me when they aren't. #layer

tonight i went to one of kelli's classes: looking to more consciously choose the best version of myself. kelli was working toward wild thing at the end of practice, and she talked about how when we are in our hearts we can more fully expand in these heartopening poses. i wild-ed out in wild thing, and then wondered if it would be visible--this "being in my heart"--in a photograph. i asked kelli to send me a photo from tonight's practice, and i compared it to one from a year ago when i was much more "armored" (in kelli's words).

the quality of the pictures is vastly different (because of the candlelit class tonight), but you know what? you can see it. i look like i'm forcing my openness in the left picture. but i'm fully embodying it in tonight's picture (on the right).

and that's all i want: to fully embody my heart. peel back all the layers. give up the hiding spots. shine light into all the cracks. let go of all the little broken pieces.

i saw my friend post a madonna song lyric tonight: "all of your life has been a test. you will find the gate that's open, even though your spirit's broken."

that pretty much sums it up, doesn't it?

working through the next layer.

illusions of control

control. even the word sounds a bit harsh.

do we ever really have control over anything in our lives? i'm going to argue no. sure, i think i have control over what time i'm going to wake up when i set my alarm the evening before. and, more than likely, i will wake up when it goes off. but, i might not hear it if i had a restless night. i might turn it off in my sleep and not realize it. my phone battery could die if the phone wasn't properly plugged in. or, my phone may just decide that it's mad at me for overuse and not play the alarm in the morning. (ok, well, that last one probably wouldn't happen, but i wouldn't blame my phone for that response!)

i'm someone who likes to have control. when i don't have it, i look for other areas of my life where i can exert some control. and, when i think i have control over something, i get really upset if something goes against what was planned.

one of the (highly destructive) forms of control i exert in my life is over food and exercise. i count calories every day. every pretzel i eat. i keep track of all forms of activity. including all of my walking each day (i walk a lot, and i measure every minute). i balance out these two things with as much detail as possible. and, when i feel like something gets a bit off-balance, i binge and purge. as in, i eat 5 meals worth of food and then throw it all up. some of you know this. some of you don't... don't freak out or worry about me if this is new information to you; i am in "control" of the situation. ;)

i don't often resort to this extreme response. but, when i do, it has a bit of a wrecking ball effect: i feel ashamed and beat myself up about it for at least the following 24 hours.

in my married life, i became accustomed to binging and purging whenever i was alone. usually both of us were home in the evenings. which meant i never had an opportunity to binge and purge. some days i would crave that release so much, but i wouldn't be able to do it. so, eventually i began to do it every time i was alone because "who knows when i will have another opportunity?"

i've just realized that this "alone = binge/purge time" equation got conditioned into my psyche. eventually, i was afraid to be alone, because i felt like i was going to engage in this behavior by conditioned response, whether or not i "wanted" to. if my partner left town for a week, i got really nervous about how i would manage so many nights of either 1) consistently fighting the urge to binge and purge or 2) feeling the negative impacts of engaging in it every night. when my partner moved out permanently, i had this intense fear that i would drown in bulimia, that it would take over my life again, that i wouldn't be able to live my life because of its hold on me.

that happened a little, but not as much as i expected. the reason? i found substitute distractions. (note i did not say that i found good substitutions.) instead of managing the emotions i was feeling, i went about it from the other end: i decided i would just make sure that i wasn't often alone. i decided to control the circumstances. that means that any night that i didn't have plans with friends, or a yoga class that got me home after 9pm, i'd make a date. i didn't care who with; i just needed to be out of my house for another hour or two.

i don't think i even did this consciously. it's something that i've just realized over the past three weeks of NOT going on any dates. (my friends say: "i don't even know who you are!" clearly i've had a lot of dates over the past year.) so. umm, now i have to be alone at home, and that scares me. and i'm realizing it scares me because it is an opportunity to binge and purge. well. it seems i don't have my shit together. who knew?

so now i'm noticing that the 9-date-a-week plan didn't serve me so well. i thought i was having fun; i thought i was managing; i even kind of thought i was thriving. but, upon lots of recent reflection, i realized that i've just been in limbo.

----------enter the next big emotional hit----------

guess i better try something different this time. so now i'm doing what i didn't do the first time: reflecting, changing, growing. being by myself. and i've been trying to let go of my need for control. when i notice the anxiety about food, exercise, or being in my house alone, i look for the opportunity for growth in the response. it's only been a short time, but i'm doing it. instead of approaching time alone with fear, i've begun to look for the opportunities there. i've opened up to seeing love there. and i'm forgiving myself for the time i spent not doing that. #thanksgabby

and i think it's working. i met a friend for lunch today, one that i haven't had a chance to really catch up with in a few months. after lunch she sent me an email saying:

It was soooooo good to see you. I am very happy to be friends with such a vibrant, gorgeous woman who lives life a little differently... I am very grateful there are people like you in the world.

then, later this afternoon, a co-worker who hadn't seen me in a few weeks told me: "you seem different... more connected maybe?"

with evidence like that, who needs control? i'll take comfort in the love and support i have all around me. and thanks KR for all the 40-day motivation. xo