Why I NEDA week

Yesterday was the last day of National Eating Disorders Awareness Week.  I was hoping to post more on to social media, but there were a few days this past week that I wasn't feeling well.  But the nice thing about awareness is that it doesn't have to end after the designated week or month is over.  Hopefully it lights the dry brush in a field and starts a wildfire that spreads across the states, the continents, the world.

Why I need #NEDAwareness is because it reminds me I'm not alone, it validates how I feel, it gives me courage to keep fighting, it gives me a voice to share my story, it gives me optimism that I will succeed in recovery and so much more.

One way I'm going to continue spreading awareness is producing my recovery album.  I've already started the recording process and I'm so happy to be back in the studio.  It will be a mixture of covers (with my own spin) and originals.  

There are plenty of days I'm super excited and can't wait to launch my Kickstarter campaign and see it thrive.  Then there are other days I'm questioning myself - what makes me think I'm good enough, that people actually want to hear what I have to say, that people will enjoy the music, that people can relate, and on and on and on.  Doubt and fear.  Those are ED's favorite tools, but I'm not playing his game anymore.  

One of my close friends reminded me, regardless of what happens with my recovery album, I'm doing it for me.  I don't need to impress anyone nor do I need anyone's permission.  It's time to trust myself and do something that seems impossible because I promised myself that I would step outside of my comfort zone.

Making ED mad

Most recently I've been feeling low and experiencing harmful thoughts about restricting, cutting and death.  I'm physically fine, I haven't given into those thoughts.  I feel like a hypocrite to promote recovery and body acceptance and self love, when right now I want to return to the very behaviors that led me into treatment in the first place.  I told my husband yesterday that I'm disappointed in myself because I was doing so well and now...I'm not, as if all that hard work doesn't mean anything.  But he reminded me my hard work isn't gone and that I will have slips and falls.  

I keep questioning, why am I having so much trouble right now?  Overall this past year I've done rather well in recovery.  I've been told on more than one occasion that I seem happier and brighter and that just makes me smile even more!

Then I realized what's going on: I've made ED mad.  All my successes, especially my newest one, smashing my scale, makes ED weaker.  He's like some bad exboyfriend that doesn't get the hint I'm not coming back to you, it's OVER.  But now he's stalking me with a vengeance, trying to make my life seem out of control so I'll go back to him and remember the "good times".

Dear ED,

This probably won't be the last letter I write.  I'm once again telling you that it's over, we are done.  If I go back to you I know you'll end up killing me.  If I could legally get a restraining order against you I would do it in a heartbeat.  I've had enough of your bullshit and abuse.  I may feel weak right now, but I know what it's like to feel strong.  There are so many things I want to do with my life and you're just a fucking control freak.

I know about the others.  I know about all your affairs and I'm warning you to leave them alone.  I've been starting a revolution, I've been calling you out on your bullshit, I've been laughing in your face and you can't handle it.  Who's the weak one now?  In the end you're going to be all alone.

P.S.  I've got an army so you better watch yourself.  You're going down, jackass.

When purging is a good thing

One reason why I love the movie Frozen so much is because of the popular song Let It Go.  I know...everyone is sick of hearing that song, but for me it has huge significance.  The action of letting go is so crucial in every day life.

When engaging in behaviors like purging essentially we are using our bodies to get rid of or let go of the negative feelings we are experiencing.  Bingeing is seen as an action to bury your feelings down and then purging to release that tension.  People say they feel a sense of relief after a purge.  With the holidays I definitely experienced moments of wanting to purge, but I'm proud to say I didn't give in to those feelings.

With the new year I wanted to talk about purging, but in a different and healthy way.  Let's say you have a friend, but for some reason they can be toxic.  It's a difficult thing, but letting them go or purging them out of your life may be necessary.  Remember YOU have to take care of YOU and no one else is going to do it.

I get attached to stuff easily, as my family knows all too well.  For some reason letting objects go that hold some meaning is a challenge.  I'm afraid I'll forget the memory that it's associated with or I'm afraid if I donate the item it will be mistreated (yes, I said mistreated, like it's real).  (On a side note: In some of my eating disorder research it's common for sufferers to associate magical properties to objects.  For example, my baby blanket.  I still have my baby blanket and I don't refer to the blanket as an "it" but as a "she".  Even though I'm well aware it is a blanket, just pieces of cloth, I give "her" feelings and there are many days "she" can make me feel comforted and even loved.). But accumulating stuff can actually be detrimental and one can start becoming a hoarder.  I'm not going to turn around and get rid of my blanket, but I also can't hold on to everything little thing that means something to me.  The act of purging and letting go of things can be very therapeutic.  

My husband has been an amazing asset when it comes to helping me let go.  We recently went through a box of my toys and I have such fond memories of each one of them, but as hubby brought up someone else can find joy playing with these toys and that I haven't used these toys in a very long time.  There were certain ones that I didn't want to get rid of, but at the end of the day I had a couple boxes of toys ready to be donated.  And even though at first I felt sad that I wouldn't have these toys anymore I ended up feeling relieved.  I don't need those possessions and that's very freeing.

Letting go of negative feelings is an even harder task to do than letting go of actual stuff.  For us to really grow we have to let go of the things weighing us down.  If you imagine yourself holding onto the various objects that represent hurt feelings or bad memories you can't also hold on to new happy feelings and memories.  I struggle with this all the time.  I can get in a rut and play a negative tape in my head over and over again, but what good is that?  I'm focusing so much on the past and how something made me feel bad instead of making peace with that situation and purging it out of my life.  We all make mistakes and some mistakes are rather large, but try to let it go.  

You are more than your mistakes and struggles.  

Free yourself from the prison cell you created.  

You are a good person and you deserve to feel good.  

You are worthy.

It's never been easy for me, but the more I learn to let go or purge in a healthy manner the better I feel about myself.  Here is to a happy and healthy new year!  And remember you are never alone!

Time heals all wounds...or does it?

We've all come to know certain sayings like, "time heals all wounds."  I'm sure I've even said this to people in the past, but I couldn't disagree more with that statement.

I'm encompassing all wounds together, whether they be physical, mental, or emotional.  For example, I'm still feeling the effects of a car accident that happened last year in August.  I don't usually talk about it, I see it as something I have to live with, but the fact is my body is never going to be the same.  Time and some effort on my part (like PT) may ease some of the physical pain I feel on a daily basis, but my neck and back are compromised and weaker than before the accident.  I broke my leg when I was eight and although I don't feel pain from this injury, it still affects me.  People point out at various times that my right foot angles inward when I walk.  Yes, thank you for noticing, that is because I broke my leg.  The bone may have mended, but my leg isn't the same.

This is the same for the mental and emotional pain we feel.  Time doesn't heal those wounds, it may create some distance and a barrier so the pain doesn't feel as raw, but it's still there underneath the scars.  

I will always have an eating disorder.  I'm not trying to be negative or say recovery doesn't work.  Recovery does work.  It works to help me cope differently and in a healthier way when life is stressful.  Even though I've had moments of feeling okay and maybe (dare I say) good about my body, ED is still there arguing with me.  There are days I'm strong and I laugh him away, but there are days that he breaks my spirit and I just want to stay under the covers and never come out again.  Even though I haven't purged in months doesn't mean I don't think about doing it, especially more recently with the holidays.  

What if I throw up just this once?  

We already know where that will lead.  It's never just once.  In my recovery I've learned that if there is a scale out in the open, I'm going to step on it.  It's this immediate knee jerk reaction.  Scale equals "hop on and feel like crap, it's your lucky day of self loathing."  I have weighed myself recently because the scale was there and we were visiting relatives in Michigan for Thanksgiving and I ate food on a holiday.  A great sin indeed...  And guess what?  I hate the number, what a surprise.  I will always hate the number.  Even at my lowest weight I hated the number, it was never good enough.  

BUT there is hope.  Even though time won't erase ED from my existence, it does give me the space and distance I need to put things into perspective.  Even though I hated the number I was able to have a coherent, logical and rational discussion with myself.  Last year I wouldn't have been able to do that.  It would have meant restricting and purging and chewing lots of gum and drinking water like it's going out of style and saying things like, "No thanks, I just ate."

Time may not heal wounds, but it does keep us moving forward and maybe give us a little hope that tomorrow will be better.

The Wedding Singer

Last night Edgewood College closed their most recent show The Wedding Singer.  I'm honored to have been a part of this very talented cast.  I remember going to the read through and I felt like the new kid in school.  I was walking into a situation that most of the cast were students and knew each other and have worked with each other.  Even though the cast didn't know my age at the time, I was very aware that I may be 11 years older than some of these students.  I'm so happy that the cast and crew welcomed me with open arms.

This show has pushed me past my comfort zone and has probably been the most difficult show I've ever been in.  The director and choreographer pushed us and expected excellence.  There were nights I went home and wondered what the heck I was doing in this show.  Why was I cast?  Could I really do everything that was laid before me?

I opened up to some of the cast about my anxiety, social phobia, eating disorder and how last year I was suicidal.  It's not something I just throw out there, but when I could relate to one of their life stories I wanted them to know they weren't alone.  

Wedding Singer has helped me in my recovery.  I was a part of the dance ensemble and with all the dancing we did there was no way I could engage in behaviors and go to rehearsal on an empty stomach.  Being around these college students also reminded me about having fun, that there is more to life than being perfect.  I'll take having fun over perfection any day.

So here's a shout out to all those involved with Wedding Singer!  You have enriched my life with your kindness, openness and talent.  I hope to work with you all again in the future!

Real women have....

Bodies.  And so do men.  It's this fascinating concept.  As human beings we were given this shell called a body.  We are tall and short, big and small, some of us have freckles, some of us have curly hair, some of us are left handed.  We are all different, just like snowflakes.  What makes us unique isn't just our outer shell, but what's inside the shell.

I know, super cliche: beauty comes from within.  And it always seems that only beautiful people say that, right?  Like it's super easy for a thin person to say something inspiring about having curves and make it seem like this positive thing, but that thin person without curves doesn't exactly know what it's like to wear a different shell.  And the curvier person is constantly reminded that she (or he) doesn't quite fit in our society's standard of beauty even though that thin person just tried their best to relate. 

I remember when the movie Real Women Have Curves came out.  I was so excited!  Finally they're making a movie to show it's okay to not be skinny.  But now after being in recovery I see the movie a bit differently.  I know the movie is about empowering women, has a great storyline and the intentions are all good.  However the title bothers me some.  Real women have curves...so...the women who are naturally slim aren't "real women"?  Or an anorexic wouldn't be considered a "real woman"?

What constitutes a real woman?  So much more than her body, that's for sure.  I can't even define what a real woman is and it would be rather egotistical of me to even try.  I can only define myself and I'm just one type of woman.

I'm average height, have black hair, brown eyes (so dark when I was a baby my grandma called them black), is insecure (but working on it), a daughter/sister/wife, heterosexual, hard worker, talented (that's hard for me to say, but dammit I am talented, might as well own it), creative, sensitive, anxious, kind hearted, perfectionistic, a good listener, likes to make people laugh...I could go on and on, there's so much that defines me.  In this definition I purposefully didn't mention my weight (which I don't even know) or my body type (which I'm conflicted about on a daily basis) because there is so much more to me than those facts.  Those are two things about me, just two, and so many of us let those two things run our lives.

But what happens when we stop making it about those two insignificant things and make our lives about being good people and reaching our full potential?  Being a good person has nothing to do with which shell you were given, what you ate for lunch, if you let yourself have dessert, if you went to the gym, if you are a size zero or a size twelve, and everything to do with how you treat others.  Smile more, laugh often, be vulnerable, give someone a hug, tell a special person you love them, make mistakes, cook with a friend.  Above all be yourself because no one else can do what you do or be who you are.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall...

As one can imagine, mirrors aren't my favorite thing.  Most times in a public bathroom, I walk up to the sink, eyes on the sink, get my soap, lather my hands together, rinse, dry, and walk out.  Not once looking at myself.  Why?  Because I don't like looking at myself.  When I do, my mind starts doing jumping jacks.

Can people tell that I've gained weight?  Do I look fat in this outfit?  Maybe I should always suck my stomach in.  How can I make my legs longer and thinner?  From the side can I pass as skinny?  I wish my arms weren't so big.

I could continue on and on, but I'm sure some of you could fill in what's missing because you have your own thoughts while looking in the mirror.

Today I was in rehearsal for the ballet version of A Christmas Carol with the Stoughton Center for Performing Arts.  It's a ballet studio.  They are not in need of mirrors.  They have plenty.  I look around at all the real dancers and wonder if any of them have a problem with the mirrors.

In rehearsal mirrors are important.  We can see how we carry our bodies, if we are in step with the person next to us, and for the real dancers they can keep an eye on their technique.  Today when we had periods of waiting time while the director was discussing something with certain people, I looked in the mirror.  I was wearing an athletic t-shirt and yoga pants.  By brain split in two.

One part of my brain did the usual check.  Thighs touch.  Stomach sticks out.  Wide hips.  Well endowed.  Flabby arms.  Yeah...I'm there alright.

The other part of my brain did something different though.  While the first part of my brain did its check, the second part kept asking, Does it matter?  You are healthy.  You can't trust what you see.  You can't compare your body with those of teenagers.  You want to be a strong dancer, right?

By the end of rehearsal I decided that I looked okay.  That there wasn't really anything wrong with my body.  That I looked like a human being.  That there is more to me than the number on the scale and the number on the clothes tag.  That I love people of all different shapes and sizes and others probably do too.

It's still hard though.  For the people who have seen me skinnier, I wish there was this sign they could read, In Recovery, so they wouldn't judge me that my body takes up more space now, that they automatically understood before I wasn't treating my body right and now I am, that I'm doing the best I can.

In a sense I have to mourn my previous body and ED.  I really don't have a desire to go back and starve and purge and drive myself crazy, but I'm still addicted to the idea of thin.  I still want to be considered the skinny friend, but that's not my role anymore.  My role is compassionate friend, understanding friend, loving friend, nonjudgmental friend, etc.

As I continue my recovery journey I don't know if I will ever love what I see in the mirror.  For right now I'm working towards acceptance.