A MIRACLE IN DISGUISE - well not really but seems I was fooled!

Been gone a while… and now I’m pregnant.  My last post was dated December 21^st 2012.  I found out I was pregnant on December 26^th.  Now I’m 22 weeks pregnant, and my oh my has it been a journey thus far!  I don’t like being pregnant.  I don’t understand women that say they enjoy it.  All that seemed to happen in the first five months was that I became even more incredibly sensitive than is normal for me (scary, seriously), felt sick all the time, got major gas I couldn’t control, my joints began to hurt terribly and feel somehow bruised inside, and my body image tanked.  Saying I ‘felt  fat’ was a gross understatement.  There have been some recent upturns.  A couple weeks ago I found out we’re having a girl.  My husband’s reaction to this has been classic.  I’ve thought many times about suggesting he enact a self ban from the internet and all things teenage girl horror story related.  It’s awesome and hilarious to watch his stages of panic to acceptance and back again, and I’m enjoying not being the only one a little sensitive these days.  So that was highlight #1.  Highlight #2 was the baby beginning to kick.  It’s really cool!  For a while I was having daymares and nightmares that she wasn’t alive or that I lost the baby, but since the kicking began my nightmares have turned a different tune.  Yes, I still get very strange nightmares all having to do with my own personal preservation but no more about losing the baby.  I’m grateful for that!   So that ends my highlight section.  Hahaha, like I said I’m not yet a woman who would claim to enjoy pregnancy.  I do ponder at the miracle of it all.  I have surreal moments where I just can’t believe my life shows the picture it does.  More importantly that I am experiencing life the way I am today.  It’s just baffling!   A miracle indeed!  Around my recovery community, I watch people get sober, experience a revival of virtues, become participants in life again and discover and rediscover relationships.  I am a part of this community and what I observe in others has happened to me.  A little over four years ago I had a really small God reserved only for begging to in the most desperate moments or thanking in the best of the best times, a feeling of utter isolation and hopelessness, zero confidence in my talents or ability to be successful, and my gut had such a gaping hole in it that I worried I may just be swallowed up into an abyss of despair.  Presently, I have I great big God walking me through every moment, a husband by my side, a loving and supportive family, a community of support, hobbies to pursue, passions to live out and a baby in my belly.  What???????????!!!!!!!!!!  Okay, okay maybe being a pregnant, sober, loved, blessed mommy isn’t so bad. 

Man, now I read that back to myself and realize I better get off my pity pot in a hurry!  I mean seriously Fran, talk about luxury problems.  Now here’s to all the pregnant mom’s that walk with grace instead of a waddle and a moan, who recognize the miracle they are carrying and share that blessing with the rest of the world.  My hat is off to you!  Here’s also to the pregnant mom’s who bitch and complain and take out their ever charging hormonal swings on their loved ones.  We also carry a miracle and I know deep down in all of us, we know this and will celebrate… one day.  I’m with you.  Just for today though, maybe we can try one thing differently and say thank you to all the folks that have to hear all the negative crap about the most positive gift we’re carrying.  Thank you husband, mom, dad, sister, brother, family, friend, co-worker, doctor.  Thank you.  :)

  In Gratitude.

When life happens, I want to be there

As usual this holiday has inspired me to reflect on my experiences, my relationships, my health and my overall life perspectives.  I like to start with the shortest time frame, the closest things, and build out from there.  Generally this approach ensures I end on a positive note.  Maybe it’s the distance or the time that’s passed that allows me more of an open-minded outlook and more permission to view the older, wider scope stuff as positives.  That’s neither here nor there I guess so here we go…

Starting with the near and dear, this year feels like it’s been a rough one.  If nothing else, it’s been a change packed one and we all know how I do with change! Growing pains indeed!!!  I moved my home; lost a dear friend; changed jobs; welcomed my new nephew home J; had neck surgery; and got some life-changing news about my mom.   Those were the doozies.  Sprinkled through were the little things: I celebrated three years sober; I got to hear stories from some awesome women and be inspired by their strength again and again; I went camping with my husband, then with friends, then with more family; I giggled a lot with too many friends and family to count; I enjoyed the ups and downs of my high school divers and celebrated their new skills; Notre Dame is #1 and going for the National Championships in a couple short weeks, and I was there with my dad, bro and husband to watch them beat USC; I wore a crown on my birthday on a hiking trail; I reacquainted with friends of old; I was able to clean up a little more of the wreckage of my past and continue to feel more and more at peace with others; I got to enjoy a rad cousin day; I heard just last week my brother has delivered three babies (WHAT!!!??? He’s really going to be a doctor!); I called my mom and sister almost every weekday morning and heard them and the kiddos in all their morning glory.  I could keep going but suffice it to say life is happening and the coolest part is I’ve been there to experience it! 

If I take a walk away from all that and turn around to see the bigger, broader view, I’m just in complete and total awe at the gifts and love that seem to have been poured straight down on my head in the past year or 4 or 33.   I see how lucky and blessed I am.  Certainly in light of all the traumas and hardships that are happening around the world, my ‘changes’ seem luxurious and inspired.  My heart aches for those in pain, experiencing injustice and stricken with loss.  I want to fix the wrongs and the hurts and the grief, but of course I can’t.  It makes me wonder how I got so lucky.  I used to ask God why a lot.  “Why me God?  Why is it so hard God?  Why can’t it be different God?  Why can’t I just quit God?”  I had to stop asking why in order to allow myself to just live and do the next right thing.  So now as I’m asking “How did I get so lucky God?” it occurs to me that I just don’t get to know the why’s and how’s of life.  I’m discovering that it’s in the not knowing that I’m enabled to live in today and simply do the next indicated thing.  Truth is I can’t know when someone will need my help or even if I'll be able to help them when they do, but so long as I show up and remain present, you bet your butt I’ll be there when life happens.   

All the love during this holiday season and happy reflections to you!!!

The meaning of my tears

Oh man some days just show up a bit rougher than others and today has been one of those days.  I guess I’m chugging along just fine now and I have some hope back in my corner as I walk through each next hour, but I’m pretty tired and am just kind of putting one foot in front of the other until I’m done.  I’ve cried it out once already today, and that helped me get through work, but I think I’ll need another session once I’m home. J   I’m a total crier.  It’s how I process a lot of things.  Not only do I cry at the sad, difficult and lonely times, I cry at the happy too and the exciting and the inspirational.  I believe I have proven beyond much reasonable doubt that I come by my tears biologically.  If you took a look at the reactions of women in my family, you would likely agree.  If you found a way to disagree, I’d probably wonder if you were being contrary just to be contrary, but I digress.  My tears are very comprehensive and can be an outlet for a myriad of different emotions.  I thought I would describe 20 or so different cry occasions to give you a little peak into the meaning of my tears.

1. This morning I woke up in pain and lot of it.  I couldn’t see the silver lining to my experience, and I couldn’t see hope in it.  I was unable to grab strength from all the things I CAN do.  I didn’t even want to imagine trying to get through today.  Planning any plans was impossibly overwhelming.  I cried hopeless tears.
2. On my way into work this morning I called my lovely friend in recovery.  I told her it was a very bad neck day.  I shook and raised my voice and cursed as I cried into the phone.  I said it was unfair and I didn’t understand it.  I told her I was mad at my life and at God.  I cried angry tears. 
3. Yesterday I watched the replay of the USA women’s4 x 400 meter relay win their Olympic race in London.  Tears filled my eyes as I watched them embrace each other and their families and the announcers cheered into their microphones.  I cried tears of inspiration.
4. My mom once ran a stop light in that way where we both realized she had done it only after she was all the way through the intersection and at the same time.  The look we gave each other was so priceless that we burst into laughter and were both crying through our giggles.  It was the kind of moment where you can never tell someone else and have it be as funny.  I cried tears of friendship.
5. My dad had heart surgery.  It was pretty minor on today’s scale, but I was scared for him, especially after I’d heard how bad his tests were.  He was getting a couple stints put in, and I cried into my shirt as I told my support group how much I wished I could give him a hug before he went in for surgery.  I cried tears of fear.
6. My grandma died only six months after my aunt had committed suicide.  I prayed and prayed around the time of my grandmother’s funeral and tears came each night as I envisioned both my aunt and grandmother watching over me.  I cried tears of faith.
7. One day I listened as one of my family members listed out a lot of different things I had done to cause her hurt and worry.   I knew I had harmed her, and I knew I couldn’t fix her pain.  I cried tears of guilt.
8. This one’s silly but still true.  I think I wrote about this before even.  I was struggling to find friends in my new city, and I went up to a women I didn’t know to introduce myself.  I was at a meeting with a bunch of other recovering folk and thought she would welcome me with open arms.  She ignored me and turned her back on me.  I cried tears of rejection.
9. My husband and I hosted a game night for some of our friends and we completely disagreed on the rules to one of the games.  We bickered quite a lot and once everyone left we talked it out and agreed to disagree.  I cried tears of frustration.
10. I got into the college of my choice after putting soooooo much pressure on myself and sooooo much importance on it.  I jumped and cheered when I read my letter.  I cried tears of relief.
11. My lovely friend Tina died after a courageous and beautiful life lived to the fullest.  I miss her fierce expressiveness, her faithfulness to life and her fantastic parties.  I cried tears of loss.
12. I experienced my wedding day surrounded by my closest family and friends.  I felt beautiful, confident, loved and secure.  I cried tears of happiness.
13. I danced ALL NIGHT at my wedding.  I cried tears of bliss.
14. I was supposed to be brought on as a new employee at a company I had worked with for a while.  The conversation began with great promise for promotion and ended with a clear understanding that the company and I did not mix.  I walked out of the conversation without a job.  I cried tears of disappointment.
15. Two of my cousins sang with such beauty, generosity and talent at my wedding.  I was so touched and filled with the moment that I felt my heart might explode.  I cried tears of love.
16. I found myself sober after a fast moving and beautiful year of ups and downs.  Then two years.  Then three years.  I cried tears of hope.
17. I have been a lifetime fan of both Disney movies and the Disney Channel.  I get lost in the stories and laugh and cry along with the characters.  I cry tears of innocence.
18. I broke my back when I was eleven and my gymnastics career ended.  I didn’t know what the future would hold, but I knew I had lost a big part of me.  I was confused, distraught and broken.  I cried tears of grief.
19. I have looked loved ones in the eyes and told them I was sorry for the harm I’d done them over the years.  I have been truthful, simple and specific.  I have let them drive conversations and listened to their side.  I have cried tears of humility.
20. So now I have read my list back, and tears welled up in me as I went.  As I read, I felt pride in the realization that all of these moments have shaped me.  None of these moments own me.  I have walked through the good and the bad.  While I am indeed a kind of weepy woman, I have come out with a level of dignity and grace that is surprising even to me.  I cry tears of strength. 

  

Thank you for all my tears. 

Forgotten Brothers - Day 7

Today think about men who suffer from eating disorders. Either write from your experiences as a male ED suffer, from the point of view of a friend of a man suffering an ED or else imagine how the experience of an eating disorder and of recovery is different for men.

This topic is very difficult for me being that I try to write from my own experience and avoid projecting too much on others.  Not that I don’t have a ton of ideas and opinions about other people’s experiences but I’m guessing most, if not all of them, are inaccurate and sell others short.   The experience I do have is through relationships with men and it’s strange to reflect and see that after all these years in rehab and day treatments and group recovery, I don’t know very men who have admitted an eating disorder.  On top of that, I can only remember one man I knew when I was eighteen who admitted he was bulimic and I don’t recall ever having an anorexic male friend.  I participated in a sport where I know the bulimia and anorexia among males is much more common than in other arenas, so I am absolutely certain that I just didn’t notice.  It is sad to think that even from someone who watched and compared every little thing and every little habit of every girl, I didn’t see the men. 

I remember the man I knew with bulimia.  I remember we shared a lot of our pain and heartache with each other about the disease.  He was a lifeguard at the pool that summer and a wrestler all throughout high school.  He told me how his weight struggles has begun as a young kid but that his bulimia kicked in when he had to do weigh ins before wrestling matches.  At eighteen, without a sport to pursue any longer, he couldn’t stop binge purging.  He had lost the ability to control his intake and his absolute need to vomit afterwards.  I totally understood his disease and related to his behavior, but I could not console him at all.  I remember that the loneliness he talked about sounded slightly different than mine.  He called himself a freak and told me he wasn’t much of a man and that he was weak.  I believe these were feelings that came from being a man with a disease hidden from the world as an ‘acceptable ailment’.  It was heart wrenching to listen to his stories but I’ve never forgotten.  I have coached kids since that show all the signs, most were wrestlers at some point and divers with me.  The approach I have taken is simple education, nothing personal.  I might need to think about whether or not that’s even supportive.  If they’re suffering, they may feel like lonely week ½ man freaks. 

I admit I have been part of the forgetting crowd.  Today, I strive to join the support reaching out to my forgotten brothers and to meet any hand asking for help in the future.  You are not alone.  We have the same illness and recovery is possible for all of us.

Dear Doctor - HFC Day 6

Write a letter to a medical professional (general or mental health) or write an advert for a medical professional. What do you need from them? What don’t you need from them? What matters to you? Use your own experiences if you feel able to do so.

Wow, I wish I had a few days to look at this one.  What a great topic.  I have seen so many professionals, and I believe all of them did the best they could to help me find health.  I am sad to say that I believe the majority, with few exceptions, did me more harm than good.  That sounds harsh and I admit that it is harsh, but it is my truth.  I also know in my gut that I would not be where I am today without each and every professional affecting my life in exactly the way they did at the time that they did.  Just thought I’d get that out of the way before I began.  Here we go….

Dear MP,

First, I would like to say thank you.  Thank you to all of you who took my case, who fought for me when I could not fight for myself, who pushed me to look within, who told me I was good enough, who encouraged me to continue living, who locked me up when I was not safe, who welcomed me back after I strayed, who wanted me to live more than I willed to live myself.   Without you there would be no me.  Thank you.

Secondly, I have some feedback to offer you after all these years.  I know as professionals you know that this is only my experience but perhaps you see cases like me more often than once a lifetime.  I’m willing to bet you see cases like me quite a bit actually.  So maybe, just maybe, you’ll find some use in my feedback.  I had such a loud head when I came to you for help.  It seemed like most of your exercises made those noises louder.  I guess I don’t really understand why you looked so hard and dug so deep to find the reasons.  I mean I was in pain and instead of finding something to help me out of that pain, you encouraged me to find more so that I could find where all that pain started.  I must say it was wonderful to think that I could find a fall guy or thing or whatever.  I’m sure you’re not surprised to hear this elusive fault entity was never found.  What you might not guess is that a lot of people and a lot of me was hurt trying to find it.  We, you and me MP, pointed fingers trying to catch targets.  Well, I have news for you-  My parents didn’t abuse me.  My siblings didn’t leave me out.  I was not bullied.  My coaches were tough and I appreciated that.  My talents were treated as gifts, and I was no dog and pony show.  People didn’t call me stupid nor did/do I feel stupid.  I was and always will be loved.  I AM NOT A VICTIM!!!  I get it.  I get that these things could have been big deals for a girl showing my symptoms, but they just weren’t for me.  So, at some point I implore you to stop digging!  I mean sure, I had some skeletons in the closet and I had to look at some of those.  Great.  So what?  I had uncovered all of them within probably the first couple months of therapy and over a decade later nothing new had surfaced, nothing from my past anyway.  Plenty of new demoralizing, painful, tragic moments had come from my behavior and my obsession with disease, addiction and death.   I was also now a bona fide Axis II Borderline Personality Disorder.  One diagnosis I can absolutely see as accurate.  I had learned it all in the groups, the institutions and the rehabs that were supposed to help me.  I knew how to stay sick, to play sick, to welcome sick, to love sick.  Why in the world did you keep digging into my first 10 years of life at this point?  I mean where was the hope?  Where was the celebration of the life I was living in the moment you were sharing it with me?  Where was the direction for some contrary action?  Pity was what I felt from you in my last five years of ED.  Pity.  Does that ever help anyone break free of emotional, physical and spiritual bondage?  Really?  I mean you’re not even joining me in the conversation at that point.  You’re just nodding, writing prescriptions, agreeing with the crap hole that was my life, and the impossibility of me finding recovery.  This was supposed to move me towards health?!!!  I’m sorry, I just don’t see it.  

Thirdly, I will admit that I was never fair to you.  I never told you the whole truth.  I wanted to be taken care of and becoming healthy meant independence and independence was utterly terrifying to me because it meant you wouldn’t take care of me.  I was so afraid to live my life that I didn’t allow you to help me begin to re-enter it.  I allowed you to help me stay sick.  I purposefully served you plate-fulls of misery so you would lock me in psych wards and care for me 24 hours a day.  I shattered myself into tiny pieces so that I would remain forever broken, and so you would forever attempt to repair me.  Thank you for being my support for so long.  Without you, I would have had to use more desperate, louder methods to attract help, and I probably would have died in the process.

Finally, I will tell you what I hope you will do with the next ‘me’ that comes your way.  Challenge me.  Tell me to stop thinking about myself and my problems so much and to go and help other women the way I keep telling you I’m called to do.  Contradict me.  Tell me I am wrong when I call myself ugly.  Tell me you see me differently than I see me and that you believe someday I will agree with you too.  Tell me to stop the pity party and start using my gifts, my voice, my light.  Cry with me please.  Cry with me because crying heals and when you cry with me you allow me to go out from you refreshed, energized and understood.  Celebrate my family and my talents.  Tell me to spend time with them and to help them at those family parties.  To show up for life by giving some life to those I love.  Tell me to dance and sing and craft and laugh with my family.  Tell me to celebrate me and to allow my family to do the same.  Teach me to give compliments and to accept them with honesty and grace.  Oh, and one more thing, hug me when I leave your office (That’s for Rita and Lou Ann – thank you).

Again, thank you all who saw me to this place I am today.  Make no mistake, without you there would be no me.  Keep therapising, doctoring, and dieticianing.  You do save lives!!

Love from, Fran

My Mascot - Hungry for Change - Day 3

Woo!  This brings me back to all those art therapy sessions.  I loved art therapy even though I’m a terrible artist.  It was one time I felt like there was no right answer and I didn’t have to try to be the best at it because it was all from our own experiences that our creative pieces came.  I thought they were all beautiful.  After looking at the other mascots chosen for the third day of the Hungry for Change May challenge https://www.facebook.com/hungryforchange, I have to say I haven’t changed a bit.  I find them all so beautiful!

My eating disorder recovery mascot is now, from today, A DIVER.  

In some sense it has been my mascot for years but I certainly didn’t call it that.  This picture is a perfect representation of my diving mascot for a couple reasons.  One is that she’s diving from a springboard.  I have developed a springboard diving metaphor for life.  It goes a little something like this…

In diving just about 90% of the dive’s success depends on the work that is done on the board.  You take careful steps, maintain strong and balanced posture, drive all your weight and power into the board to push it down and you up just so, and carefully time your arms and second push so that the board will seamlessly fling you up into the air and safely away from the board.  The success of the rest of your dive, however simple or complicated, will absolutely be affected by how well you’ve executed your board work.  The best part is in the freedom that comes after you’ve essentially catapulted yourself into the air.  If you’ve done it right, there’s not a whole lot you can do to mess it up.  If you’ve done it wrong, you might be saying some prayers as you come closer to hitting the water!  Either way you basically get to enjoy the ride and probably get a lot of laughs if it turns out to be more of a painful go.  Life is this way for me today in recovery.  I do the footwork and keep the ‘plug in the plate’ (as a good friend of mine likes to say), and I get to experience a freedom that welcomes all kinds of unexpected pains and pleasures.  What a thrill!

Before recovery, I knew what the day would bring – misery.  Today I have no idea what the future holds, so I continue to put one foot in front of the other and watch the results as they are revealed around me.   

The second reason I like this picture for my mascot is that she is doing my favorite type of dive, a twister.  This is my favorite because it’s both extremely complicated and fairly impossible to ‘think’ about.  You have to just do it and trust that your body knows how to take care of the dynamics in the air.  In diving this is called muscle memory and it takes some time to build up but once you’ve got it you learn to absolutely rely upon it.  In eating disorder recovery, this is compared to intuitive eating, turning away from the magnificent magnifying mind in the mirror, and the human instinct to survive no matter what.  The body know best and I have come to enjoy the freedom I get when I trust that. 

I’m built strong and healthy.  My body is able and capable.  My recovery allows me to take some pleasure, joy and comfort in that.  No more fighting.  I’m doing the work; I think I’ll enjoy the ride. J

  

I just love this picture.  I wish we still wore suits like this!!!

Inspired

I’ve been inspired thousands of times in my life.  It seems like with that many moments of inspiration, I should be walking around forever inspired.  I’m not.  In order for that to happen I would need a constant stream of new influences and arousals.  It’s what I began seeking in addiction.  Even now, seeking sobriety and sanity, that sounds awesome.  Knowing that in every moment change is happening and newness is intrinsic, all could be different all the time.  The ability to experience every moment for what it is, a brand new one, would theoretically provide me constant inspiration.  Hmmm, I’m not even close.  I mean not even a little bit.  Haha!  It does make sense though, and the book Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse makes even more sense with that line of thought.  I can even see the similarities between seeking release in addictions and seeking enlightenment.  Sounds nuts but read the book and you may find you agree.  Since I’ve got a long way to go before I’ve awakened to the present with 100% of me 100% of the time, I thought I’d describe some things that inspire me… every so often at least.

People inspire me.  People who try new things.  People who fail because they tried new things.  People who celebrate and share their successes with joy.  People who cry.  People who dance.  People who hug.  People who work hard and keep working hard.  People who refuse to make excuses.  People who sing.  People who pray for other people.  People who scream at God and glorify God in the same sentence.  People who find themselves paralyzed by fear and then somehow begin to move again.  People who don’t know and ask how or why or what or when.  In a nutshell, children inspire me and people who continue to show their own imperfect, childlike humanity inspire me.  They inspire me because in them I am assured that I am not alone.  I am never alone.

Water inspires me.  I am calmed and refreshed in water.  I have never been able to describe the feeling completely because it’s not just a morning shower eye opener.  It creates a complete change inside me.  It doesn’t matter what my mood, water will lift it.  I’m sure there are exceptions but so far I haven’t really found any.  I can be extremely depressed, feel completely worthless and out of hope and within a minute of jumping in a pool I have some new energy and life in me.  My thinking becomes extremely clear when I swim or dive  I goal set and sort out things that have weighed heavy on my heart.  I pray and I am grateful in water.  Water is forever in motion and surrounds me completely when I’m immersed.  I’m comforted by water’s power and presence and feel safe in being myself. 

Dance inspires me.  Not only is dancing entertaining and beautiful to watch, it breaks down barriers between and within people that would otherwise remain solid.  There doesn’t need to be any other connection than that of human movement for two people to share in laughter, competition, tension, love, and companionship.  Dance gives us that gift.   It also gives me the ability to open my heart and let out whatever I have to give.  Thankfully my heart is usually joy filled, but even in tough times dancing helps me release what’s inside.  It’s exhilarating and completely freeing.  I can be me and show myself to other people with only the slight risk that they might think I’m a bit spastic.  I’ll take it.

I hope you have a few things that inspire you.  If not, make some time to find some.  I promise you a human experience.

Hormones

I don’t shy away from PMS talk.  Everyone gets it or knows someone who gets it.  If I didn’t know what was driving the week long crazy train I ride once a month, I would have to seriously consider some extreme treatment options for my ‘problems’.  Believe it or not, I used to get locked up in a psychiatric hospital about once a month when I was in my early 20s.  It was close to six months before anyone realized it was hormone related.  Seems like I should have noticed the pattern, but I was PMSing so give me a break!!!!  Thankfully when they discovered what was up and started treating me for the hormonal symptoms, my trips to the psych ward decreased exponentially.  They didn’t stop altogether, but those are stories for another day.  Fast forward 12 years and I still struggle to stay in good emotional fitness the few days before my period. 

This past week was a doosey.  My husband was traveling for work and I was busy with my own work, coaching and family.  Food called to me from inside the refrigerator; the mirror would scream insults directly into my brain whenever I even glanced at it; I was exhausted and drained but didn’t want to get in bed at night; I ranted on the phone at my husband about his leaving me all alone and then cried when he returned; and I cried once at my desk and once in the middle of a meeting at work.  A total wreck.  Thankfully, after the first day, I knew what I was going through which allowed me to roll with the punches a bit better.  I mean, who cries in the middle of a meeting because the whiteboard hasn’t arrived?!??  A hormonal me, that’s who.  Thankfully I’ve mastered the silent cry and I pulled myself together after a couple minutes… but seriously!!

So here’s how I survive week’s like this past one:

1. Alert my female family members.  This is a serious family trait passed down woman to woman to woman.  I mean we ALL go nuts with our swinging hormones.  We all understand it, and I take great comfort in knowing I come by it all honestly.  Remember that I have a BIG family and as far as I’m aware, no woman in it has a mild cycle.  We all lose our stuff when we PMS.  We all feel closer to mean and ugly, lose our tempers more easily, feel a little lonely and act a little nutty. 
2. Alert my husband.  This is crucial to the continued success of our marriage. J  Seriously though, he has standing permission to remind me that my mood swings and oversensitivity could be due to my period being near.  He treads lightly here and thankfully he’s found a way to insert it at the right moments.  It usually makes me laugh.  He also will listen to me fly off the handle, and I mean all the way off the handle, then say sorry and give me a hug. 
3. Tell my internal morning critic to take a break.  Nothing is gonna look any good on me, according to me, for a few days.  It’s just the way it is, so no need to intentionally start my day with fat and ugly’s.
4. Make certain I keep a sense of humor.  This is huge.  I tell my stories of melt downs and temper tantrums to friends, male and female, because they are funny once I’m through them!  Three of my friends got the whole run down of my twisted, crazy thinking while my husband was away earlier this week.  It was only two nights and I had worked it up into a future lifetime of loneliness!!!  I laughed and laughed as I recounted one of our phone conversations and my subsequent thinking about the whole thing.  What a great release.

So that’s the long and short of it.  Now, if you’re a man and you happened to read all the way to the end of this, I’d like to make a suggestion: Do not pop this up in front of your wife, girlfriend, or sister and tell them they should read it because insert reason here, unless you are ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN THEY ARE NOT PMSing AND ARE IN A GOOD MOOD!!!!  Also note that I asked my husband to help me in reminding me about my cycle… tread lightly! J  As for all the ladies out there, I hope you related and find some humor in our shared experiences.  I am so grateful l don’t have to live enslaved by my emotions anymore, and I have learned to take myself far less seriously today than ever before.  A favorite quote of mine growing up was, “Angels can fly, because they take themselves lightly”.  When I let go of my pride and perfectionism, I find such unbelievable freedom, humor, and joy in being a woman..

Keep it simple stupid

Yes, this title sounds harsh.  No, it’s not meant to put anyone down nor is it meant to label anything or anyone stupid.  This is a slogan around recovery communities that isn’t used so much anymore.  It’s usually just said as ‘Keep it simple’, which I admit is a great message by itself.  For me though, the stupid works.  I didn’t always agree that it was a useful saying.  The reason it works for me now and didn’t a few years ago is that my perception, the way I view myself in relation to everything and everyone, has drastically changed.  I used to feel like a little piece of terd.  If someone was trying to help me, but used a slogan with a derogatory term at the end, I took it as a personal offense.  I couldn’t hear the message through the delivery.  I don’t feel smaller or less than anyone today nor do I feel at all unintelligent.  Yet now, more than ever, “keep it simple stupid” really does make good, logical sense.  


The ‘stupid’ reminds me that I must remain teachable.  I heard it said best like this, “You can’t teach someone something they already know.”  I spent years telling people I couldn’t stay sober or stop purging.  I would tell them exactly why that was.  I would tell them what I needed to do if I was ever going to ‘get it’ and then all the reasons and emotions that prevented me from doing any of those things.  Clearly, I was not going to change because I had it all figured out.  I knew all the answers to all my problems and no one could convince me otherwise.  So, neck deep in despair and desperation, I held onto just enough intellectual egoism to stay stuck and miserable.  


Finally, finally, finally, I just didn’t know.  I had no ideas or solutions of my own and couldn’t find any persuasive arguments to excuse myself from trying something different.  It took what it took for me.  I could tell stories upon stories that lead me to the day I ran out of ideas, but I could not begin to guess why it was that day that it happened.  It simply did.  Without answers I began listen to folks who appeared to have them.  Stupid me was the beginning of the me I have become today.  It gave me enough willingness and openmindedness to seek a simple solution.  Thank God I did.  It really is simple! 

Finding my fit

I go around trying to dot my I’s and cross my T’s by doing everything I say I’m going to do and showing up for my friends and family when and where I am needed.  A lot of times it feels like I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to fit myself to everyone else’s schedule.  Sometimes I get overwhelmed.  When I do, I’m at a high risk of quitting everything.  What happens is I get to thinking people are disappointed or angry with me, because I can’t meet all their expectations.  Before long, I get swallowed up by guilt and shame.  Guilt and shame have been the two most paralyzing and dangerous emotions I have experienced in my life.  Enough of either one, and I fall into such self pity, resentment and fear that relief only comes at a great price not only for me but for others as well.  I wallow.  I hide.  I lie.  I lash out.  I self-destruct and take you down with me.  I have endured this enormous, destructive cycle countless times in my life.  Coming out the other side is neither easy nor guaranteed.  I DON'T HAVE TO LIVE THIS WAY ANYMORE.

The truth is that most often I am only guessing that people are disappointed or angry with me.  Even before I get to that, I admit that I am usually the one trying find time to spend with all the people I love in my life because they bring me strength and peace and joy.  So long before I find myself in a world of hurt, I have told myself lies like I am not in control of my own actions or that people have put me on a pedestal of sorts and expect me to be everywhere for everyone.  I have thrown out my own truths and put other people’s opinions of me over my own.  I have forgotten humility and have placed myself at enormous risk.  What people think of me and how much time I give to them decides whether I am a good or bad person.  I've given others all my God given grace that allows me to have my own human experience.  When I embrace my perfectly imperfect humanity, I get to love freely and give generously.  When I don't, I am bitter and alone.  Today when my thoughts get noisy with self-deprecating and berating messages, I can pause and ask for some help and some courage to get off my crazy making cargo train to crappy town and find my right place in this world.  Feet on the ground and eyes wide open, I can go from there and do the best I can, expecting no more than just what that turns out to be.

A long time ago, an elderly man told me this, “We don’t have to fit into shoes that are too big, just our own.”  Now that makes sense and takes the shame and guilt off my heart.  I can only do as much as I can do, and I’m the only one that knows my limits and my intentions.  I answer to the truths I hold within and I can be accountable to others without shame if I fall short of my commitments at any point.  I'm only human after all and I have discovered nobody has mistaken me as anything more... EVER. :) 

What I am

Lately I’ve been asking myself a lot of questions about what I want to be when I grow up.  With that comes a lot of reflection on what I am today.  Thankfully, I’m not asking myself who I want to be or who I am.  That’s probably one of the most convoluted, crazy-making mind games someone can play on themselves.  Who I am will constantly change as I try to grow and as I gain more life experience.  So I guess I know who I am – ever changing.  What I am?  Well, that can be crazy-making too I guess because I am made up of a lot of different pieces and if I’m asking the question, I’m the one deciding which pieces to count!!!  For the purpose of not ranting onto a philosophical tangent, I will keep the ‘what am I’ question confined to my professional world.

As a little girl, I wanted to be the next Olympic superstar, mostly for the fame and notoriety.  As a young teen, I wanted to be a nun, mostly because I had decided that I was a better person than everyone else and should be marked as good and special forever.  In young adulthood, I gave up wanting to be much of anything except cared for and protected and even that felt horrible.  By my mid twenties, I wanted to save all addicts and alcoholics everywhere, because I had gained so much experience with both and believed I could relate to anyone.  This would have seemed a bit more logical if I had been sober myself, but even then it would have been grandiose. J  A couple years later I realized that I had gone kicking and screaming through my whole life to avoid the ordinary.  My efforts had left me jobless, broke and hopeless.  I told myself that what I did would define who I was.  So, I had become completely worthless. 

Thankfully my brother, sister and brother-in-law didn’t just stand aside and let me wallow in my bog of self-pity and depression.  I moved in with my sister and bro-in-law and my brother quickly hooked me up with a friend of his who got me a job as a human resources coordinator.  I hated going to work.  I hated how ‘average’ the work was.  Albeit reluctantly, I showed up day after day (well most days) and before I knew it a year had passed.  My siblings even threw me a one year on the job party because they knew what a big deal it was for me. (Yeah I have the coolest siblings in the world!)  I worked there for over two years and by the end of my time there I had some employable skills.  I did quit my job so I was jobless and close to broke but I was no longer hopeless. 

I don’t think it is a coincidence that I got sober shortly after I left that job and moved back home to California.  Just by holding a job down, I had gained a little hope in myself and some esteem – two things I had not experienced in adulthood.  I had also learned a little humility.  I needed to show up for life no matter how mundane I decided the day would be.  I knew I had to get sober to give myself a chance at showing up consistently again and when I did I learned how to do a whole lot more than that. 

I had a ton of direction my first year of working as a sober woman: “Put your head down and do eight hours work for eight hours pay.”  “Be a worker among workers.”  “Self esteem comes from doing esteemable acts… just do the next right thing.”  “Act better than you feel.”  The daily practice of all these pearls of simplistic wisdom brought me to what I am today.  I’m a good worker.  In the office I am a very able professional.  People like me and easily trust me at work.  I am given more responsibility than my job description dictates, and I welcome it.  I am articulate and capable under pressure.  Flipping to my coaching self, I am an awesome coach.  I think I say awesome because I love doing it so much.  Really, I am responsible.  I am deserving of the trust I am given by both the kids and parents.  I am talented and get to see my kids improve at a rapid pace.

Now, after all that, what do I want to be when I grown up?  Ha!  I still don’t know.  I want to give this public speaking thing a shot and see what journey it will take me on.  I want to be a mother and provide for my family.  I don’t know how those things will mix or work if both are in my future.  What I do know is I will be present.  I will work hard.  I will be one in the mix of so many in this enormous world that try to do good things for it.  I will take comfort in my past experiences and know that no matter what, no matter what, things will change.  In the end, what I am matters very little.  Who I am will be born of the things I do as I continue to put one foot in front of the other, one day at a time.  It’s in the doing.

The Dream

I’ve learned that when I tell someone that I’m going to do something, I’m about ninety times more likely to do it than if I keep my intentions to myself.  I’ve had a dream for a long time to become a public speaker.  This dream has never taken shape because I have not made any concrete goals or made consistent efforts towards transforming this dream to reality.  I did enough research to know that blogging and writing is a great first step, but that’s about all I’ve done.  I believe I can be an excellent motivational speaker.  I believe I have the ability to stand up in front of a group, capture an audience, and ultimately inspire hope.  I believe there’s a path for me to follow to get to that end, but I don’t know where to start or how I will find my way.  That said, if I don’t start, well, I’ll never start.  If I never start, I’ll never find a way. 

I’ve fallen off my blog a bit because I couldn’t see a simple way to improve it and to expand its reach.  I have a nasty tendency to believe my perpetually lazy ego that tells me people should want to listen to me and value what I say without my having to show them I’m worth listening to.  Of course, I come to my senses after a bit and realize all I’ve gained is fear and what I’ve lost is time.  Good news is I trust that if I put one foot in front of the other and work steady and true, the time will come for me to realize my dream.  And if I don’t reach the stage or get the audience, I hope it will be because it was not God’s will for me, not because I did not put the work in.  “Far and away the best prize that life has to offer is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.” –Theodore Roosevelt.  This is worth it.  I still don’t know how to lengthen my reach, but I do know that working hard is the only way I’ll find out. 

Soooo, I’d like to increase my ‘do’ likelihood by 90 times and commit to a few consistent tasks and three goals over the next 1 month.  Here they are:

1.  I will blog 4 times per week no matter the typos or the length of blog.  I will post 4 separate entries a week.
2.  I will spend 1 hour, 4 times per week, researching how to bring more visibility and ‘hits’ to my blog and adjust my blog accordingly.
3. I will respond individually to comments on my blog posts
4. By month’s end, I will be following and participating on 15 other blog sites
5. By month’s end, I will have my blog site reformatted to be more interactive, inviting and intuitive  

Thanks for reading!  

Grateful for Gratitude

I haven’t had much to say for a while.  Life is going on and I’m showing up.  I feel kind of blah I suppose, and I know the cause so it’s not anything I want to fix or feel is going to destroy me inside.  I have certainly had some mornings where I wasn’t sure if I would be able to make all my obligations that day and wanted to stay home more than I wanted to get up.  It sounds a lot like depression, but I know and am comforted that it’s my chronic pain, increased over the last few weeks, that is causing my lackluster attitude.  I’m actually pretty impressed with what I’ve been able to do considering the level of pain I’m in.  I haven’t quit anything or lied to anyone to get out of obligations.  I forgot a meeting with one of the women I work with, but I still got there after she called to remind me about it.  I haven’t looked all that neat and tidy or spunky at work, but I am still getting the job done and receive nothing but positive feedback from my coworkers.  Now, just there, in less than a paragraph, I have found a topic for this blog.  Gratitude!  The power of it is amazing.  When I first started typing I didn’t feel up to the task and now I feel like I could write forever! 

I’m so grateful for so many things in my life today.  First things first is the simple ability to welcome growth and good and then to share it.  This is my own personal definition of gratitude.  I’ve written before about pain being my greatest motivator for change.  I absolutely grow from pain and with it I’m blessed with the good that comes once I’m on the other side.  I’m allowed moments of pain, frustration, disappointment, guilt, shame, and brokenness while still remaining present and aligned with reality.  So if and when I welcome some tough times and deep emotions, I get to experience the growth and the good.  Best of all I get to share it!  Truth is I have to or I get all sick and stupid in the heart and head, but it’s such an experience that I see it as a privilege.  I get to see and experience my life in an entirely different light than ever before and then I get to show others a whole new view of me.

I have a group of five or six female friends who write a daily gratitude list.  10 items a day and it might as well be a million.  The depth of emotion and richness of life we share in those emails is unbelievable.  The only guideline I have for my list is to be honest.  It is a gratitude email chain so I do have to come up with things I’m grateful for but I’m often surprised how that lets everyone in on what’s really happening with me.  I don’t have to see any of these women in person for them to know or for me to know when extra support and encouragement is needed.  It’s a paradox to me because logically I would think that by sharing only things we are grateful for it would mean we write only the simple, happy and good life events, leaving out the rest.  That is not the case!  We see it all, but we see it in the light of gratitude.  What that tells me is that I don’t need to whine and moan and bitch and complain to get support or help.  Why not seek to walk through struggles with the heart and eyes of gratitude?  I’m betting growth, good and companionship will continue to be found on the other side.

I haven't done my email list today so I will start it here.  Enjoy!

1. It’s Friday!!!!  Sleep is on the horizon!
2. I get to see Tina tonight and see the prayer quilt the women’s guild brought to her.
3. My mom asked me to watch her try on the clothes that she is packing for her week away to a wedding.
4. My sister called me this morning and asked when I was going to meet them at the pool.  They’re in Palm Springs!  So wonderful to feel loved.
5. My niece and nephew “love vacation”!
6. Hearing my husband’s work meeting went well in New York and he’s coming home tonight!  Yay.
7. My husband asked me what I want to do for Valentine’s Day in advance.  That’s a miracle!
8. Going shopping this weekend to start my new wardrobe and it’s even in the budget.
9. Even though I couldn’t see my old doctor I do have insurance and will be able to see a doctor that can help.
10. I do not have to fix or control anything in my life today because I know God’s got me.  All I have to do is continue to seek.

When tired takes over…

I got so physically exhausted that on Tuesday of last week I actually heard high pitched screeching in my head.  Tuesday!  I couldn’t see how in the world I was going to get through the rest of the week with that kind of fatigue setting in.  Of course I made it through and into the weekend without some banshee taking over my brain and body, but that took some doing.  When tired I become increasingly emotional and usually experience problems with depression, loneliness, self image, relationships, motivation, work, ambition, the little things, and then strangest of all - sleep!!!  That’s ridiculous by the way- I can’t sleep because I’m too tired?!!!!?????  What?  If things continue and I cross into the dangerous neighborhood of overtired, I lose the ability to hide my increased emotional state.  I might be seen experiencing one or more of the following: spontaneous crying, uncontrollable and/or inappropriate laughter, extreme anger at the suggestion of any sort of change in schedule or routine, inexplicable clumsiness, verbal ranting coupled with a lack of language or content filter, etcetera!   It becomes unmanageable in a hurry and I have found only one cure.  Sleep. 

My family pokes fun at me by calling me a professional sleeper.  It’s what I do best!  Okay it really used to be best if I was sleeping, and I would sleep for fifteen hours at a time for days in a row as an avoidance strategy.  Now, it’s just best if I get the proper amount of sleep.  For me that’s in excess of eight hours a day.  Right about nine hours seems to work best.  I realize that this won’t always be possible.  Actually, it’s already not possible all of time.  What if I have children though?  I don’t think I have ever met a mother who gets eight hours a night.  That’s so scary… for you all that have to deal with me then!!!  Hahahaha!  Seriously though, not only do I experience high emotions and incredible sensitivity, everyone around me gets a very ‘funny’ version of me.  I cannot imagine what my friends and family think during my overtired times.  Oh heck, they are so used to it they’re probably just amused or shrug it off.  But for the folks that haven’t known me so long?  Last week I told our team mom that there was no February 6^th and therefore our team dinner could not possibly happen that day, and I really meant it.  While the head swim coach was retelling the story later that day (he was copied on the emails), I was both uncontrollably laughing and crying real tears.  I also noticed the divers looking at me a bit sideways this past week.  I mean you can’t really miss when your coach starts giggling while talking about the schedule or comes close to falling in the pool a few times during practice.  What a wreck!

At any rate, I am still pretty tired from the last week or two but am beginning to feel some relief.  Strangely, this semi-rested, not quite 100% space is where I get myself in the most trouble.  I feel stronger, present much more sanely, and perform normally at work, but my emotions are still raw and tender.  My reactions continue to be magnified within, and instead of my extremely silly or unglued outward reaction, I can get pointedly mean and hurtful.  I remember a counselor of mine being concerned for my safety back in a particularly dark year of my twenties.  I was a couple days released from a psych ward, and I told her she should not worry because I was feeling a whole lot better than a few days before.  She gently replied that her concern was precisely because of my slight progress.  She acknowledged my improved cognitive reasoning and more groomed appearance but reminded me that I had struggled to find a reason to get out of bed that morning and then had experienced road rage and extreme jubilation within an hour of that.  She noted the imminent danger of my road rage transferring to rage towards myself, not to mention the danger it brought to other drivers as it was.  She reminded me that before being committed to the psych ward a few days prior, I had possessed no energy at all to do anything, including take my own life.  Now, in this ‘recovery stage’ I certainly had energy enough to accomplish that if I was hit sideways just right.  I absorbed her point and apply her message today.  I am watching myself closely and making a concerted effort not to step on too many toes or entertain any hopeless thoughts for too long.  Self pity is a luxury I can’t afford much on any day but in these times I must air it out quick, or else. 

Every doctor I’ve ever seen for anything has stressed the importance of sleep for a girl like me.  I am fairly certain they would say that to anyone.  So take advice from someone who knows: when tired takes over, just let it.  Get some sleep.

So good, so simple, so difficult!!

I can guess that everyone I have ever met can relate to not wanting to do something, even when they know that doing it wouldn't take much effort at all and it would quickly improve their life.  All gain and we don’t want to do it!  Seems nutty but then I think this must be a part of the human condition, because I’ve never met anyone that welcomes all healthy, positive, fun or good opportunities right away.  There’s some element of reluctance in all of us on certain things.  Exercise is a perfect example of my point.  Over the years I have heard countless people say countless times, “I know it would be really good for me but it’s just too hard to get started,” and go on to say “I know I’ll have more energy and more motivation to do things but I just don’t have enough time,” and go on to say “I know I’ll be so much more productive so I probably will have more time once I start, but I just can’t seem to get started,” and go on and on and on.  I’ve said all these things myself without any intention of actually exercising!  It's crazy really but everyone does it. 

I have a couple theories on why we have this strange unwillingness to do the ‘win wins’.  One I wrote about last week.  Fear of change.  Self centered fear that facilities us metaphorically shooting ourselves in the foot over and over and over again.  Fears like: I might not be able to follow through; it might be uncomfortable to change my routine; it might keep me from handling all the things I usually do in the same manner I usually handle them; I might not like it; people might look at me differently; etc.  The logical error is easy to identify.  Admit it.  These fears are ridiculous in light of the benefits we receive in overcoming them.  Don’t want to hang out with friends tonight because you’re too depressed and people won’t want to be around you?  Get over yourself.  They don’t care how you come.  They probably don’t even care if you come.  You will care.  Overcome the fear that you won’t enjoy yourself and that you will regret time missed reflecting on all the horrible crap in your life and the one that says you’ll feel stupid and uncomfortable the whole time because you won’t be able to entertain or relate to everyone like usual.  Just get off your butt and go!!!  Seriously, there’s nothing to lose but a few hours of self imposed misery.

And that brings me to my second theory on this issue.  People are lazy and we just don’t wanna.  Pure and simple.  I’m not an exception to this at all.  When I’m in a lazy zone, it doesn’t matter how little the effort; if it takes effort, I’m out.  It’s sad but true.  Imagine if when considering whether to do or not do, I counted to three and went on go.  I would get to reap so many benefits that I’d simply let pass me by otherwise.  Now, I realize the lazy factor is something that is hard to really find one real fix for but try everything and then try everything again.  Maybe not one, two, three, go but something!  What works for me at one time will not at others and vice versa.  Here are some of my efforts:

1.    When mornings are rough, I give myself a few minutes to stay in bed from the time I last looked at the clock.  I pick an exact time that I must be up by and as that time nears, I begin my own countdown.  It’s weird but as competitive as I am, I am almost always up before the clock reads the time I first chose.

2.    When I don’t want to exercise at all, I come up with the smallest amount of time I can possibly allow for a workout while still believing I will benefit.  I did some yoga this morning but really needed to try some cardio even with my aches and pains.  I ran for 2 minutes.  Yes 2.  I walked for 8 minutes afterward.  It’s a start!

3.    When I don’t want to go somewhere, I try to judge what an acceptable attendance time is for the event.  I usually decide that all I have to do is show up and I’ll be able to leave whenever I want to.  If it’s a family deal or an event in honor of something, I usually set an obligatory hour for myself.  That’s a really short time frame and I outstay my allotted hour nearly every time.  I get there and voila I have a social experience!

4.    When I don’t want to go to work, eesh every work day (I’m kidding!  It’s not that bad!), I use a laundry list of tricks.  One is to just to get there by blocking out all the thoughts projecting how the day will go until I actually arrive at work.  Another is trying to place something on the other side of the work day or week that I really want to do.  It makes getting through the work day way more appealing and cathartic.  Tons of things come to mind but these two are keepers!

5.    When I don’t want to try something new, I consider what I have to lose by trying it.  Usually the answer is either nothing or a couple moments of my time.  It seems silly to give up an opportunity that I might really enjoy when all I’m looking at sacrificing is not much of anything.

You feeling motivated yet?  

So little talk of food

I tend to talk a lot more about my experience as a recovering alcoholic than I do about my experience as a recovering bulimic.  It’s certainly not less of a focus in my recovery nor is it something like my secondary illness.  In fact, I would not be able to judge which disease brought more consequences.  My preference when talking about recovery in terms of my alcoholism is really for simplicity’s sake.   I don’t take a drink and treat my mind and spirit… period.  There’s no option to where I just don’t eat, so it requires a bit more detail and most people aren’t interested.  Fortunately for me, I have found a pretty simple recipe to keep free of my active eating disorder.  It’s not perfect and it has changed many times over the past few years, but it does work.  So here’s a little peek at my abstinence (abstinence is what many in food recovery call refraining from disease behavior or compulsive eating):

First, I just had to stop throwing up.  That was the most obvious thing I had to change.  After about two weeks without vomiting, I still felt terrible physically.  I knew a lot of my discomfort was because of my nighttime eating.  So, I added a blackout time of 10pm – 6am during which I could not eat any meals or snacks.  I was amazed at how difficult it was for me to sleep for the next few weeks!  I was so used to munching while watching television in bed well into the night that it was rough to go without.  I got through my first night and then used the strength of having gotten through the night before to get through subsequent nights.  I also used my phone to make SOS calls when I couldn’t do it alone.  These two changes, no purging and no night eating, dramatically changed my relationship with food and gave me a ton of hope and relief.  I have purged only a handful of times in four years and have loosened the blackout time on occasion (usually realizing within a short number of days that I need to tighten it up again).  I have addressed many other ‘problem areas’ over the years as well.  When I’m having trouble with grazing or restricting and need to place clear starts and ends to meal times, I set time windows for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks.  I have used tracker tools, which I currently do and have done for over a year now, where I log my day’s food intake in order to keep aware of both what I’m eating and what my body is asking for.  I have turned on red lights for some foods and yellow lights for others.  Red light foods are foods I don’t allow myself to eat.  Yellows are foods I check in with myself and how I’m relating to food before I eat them.  The easiest way for me to decide whether a yellow light food should be eaten or not is by asking myself, “Can I eat this food like a lady?”  If I think that I may eat 10 portions instead of one, the answer is no and I don’t eat it.  If I think it will pretty much guarantee that I cry and yell at the mirror the next time I’m in front of it, the answer is no and I don’t eat it.  If I feel hungry and I have no desperate messages arriving in my head, I can enjoy that food.  A food is really only red lighted if it causes me increased consequences on a consistent basis.   For the most part, I interchange all these tools, except for the no purging and no night eating which are constant, depending on how they are impacting my recovery and my life.   

There is a risk in having an abstinence that allows for so much flexibility and that exists within my own mind.  Being that I’m the one making adjustments and deciding what defines my abstinence at any given time, I may get caught in my disease thought process and feed my addiction rather than my recovery.  I don’t spend a whole lot of time worrying about this though because I’ve found that consequences present themselves quickly when I’m feeding my disease.  These consequences are usually in the form of tears over how I look, what I don’t have to make me look better, anger that I’m not the weight I was at X time, distorted body image where I’m suddenly obese, or just plain old emotional sensitivity to all things normal and I decide that nobody really cares about me or likes me much at all. 

After all the meal planning tools and an abstinence that works in my daily life, what I’m left with is the treatment of my mind and spirit.  Simple as that.  The same as any other addiction recovery.  I get slightly uncomfortable if another recovering addict approaches me with awe and says I’ve overcome a lot, indicating that I have had more to overcome than they have.  I believe to my core that I’ve had to do exactly the same thing they have.  I had to stop my active disease behavior, and then the real work started.  I had to seek relief for my mind and spirit.  Once we are able to first put down the insert drug of choice here and others here, we can all then take our journeys towards sanity, an enriched life and a full heart.