"That" Time of the Month

Ah, yes, it's that glorious "time of the month," when all I do is crave chocolate and feel bloated. While virtually every woman has these symptoms, eating disordered women, no matter what stage of recovery one is in, have to be especially careful.

Every month it sneaks up on me. For the last couple of days, I've been "feeling" fat and wondering why my stomach is so bloated when I've been eating so "good." Not to mention, I just moved back to NYC, so all I've been doing is walking around and climbing subway stairways. (Even in recovery, I've secretly hoped that this extra activity might "accidentally" cause me to lose weight). Although I never want to be anorexic again, and I'm SERIOUS about this, even in recovery, I still think I'd "feel better" if I'd lose "just a little" weight. I don't know if any other recovering EDs feel this way, but I do.

Anyhoo, I've eaten chocolate two days in a row, which is okay--I eat whatever I want. But, what rankles me is that in this stage of recovery, I don't want to give into cravings because it's my "time of the month."

This type of thinking gets kind of sticky because, in reality (at least mine), I know that it's okay if I eat chocolate or anything I desire. But my perfectionism, which wants me to have "perfect abstinence," creates a guilt complex every time I engage in any type of food that isn't perfectly "clean." Once again, I've engaged in the EDMF (eating disorder mind f**k).

If nothing else, the eating disorder keeps my mind agile--I think my brain may need treatment for compulsive exercising!

The Big Apple...Oh, How Sweet It Is!

I can't believe I'm actually back in NYC! The last time I lived here, 8 years ago, I was at the pinnacle of my dance career. Unfortunately, my bulimia was building an impressive resume as well. Back then, I spent every hour, every minute, and every second of my existence obsessing about food, inhaling bags and boxes of this food or that food, and hunching over the toilet (or anything that could hold vomit) to undue the damage done by my "lack of willpower," the culprit of my problems.

While my disordered eating caused me to give away my dance career, I have the fortunate opportunity of being granted a "do-over"--not with my dance career, but rather, with graduate school, and living in my favorite city the way I originally envisioned it... abstinent.

So, now that I've been here for, oh, three days, I can say things are definitely different. I am present. I am not obsessing about food. I am not bingeing and purging. I am not spending my days comparing myself to the skinnier women who pass me on the streets (well, maybe a little). I am no longer looking for "thinspiration."

It's funny how, over time, abstinent eating causes one's perspective to change. Anorexia is no longer attractive to me, nor is it a goal I aspire to obtain.

Today I get to taste life...oh, how sweet it is.

Silent Struggles

Today I feel so grateful for my eating disorder recovery because of the opportunity presented to be of service to others. Today I received an email from a woman I used to teach dance to, now a friend, who confided in me about her silent struggle with an eating disorder. I had no idea. It's one of those things that I can look back at and say I get it. I wish I would've seen it sooner. Hindsight is 20/20 though I guess. The email triggered so much for me...empathy, sympathy, sadness, both for her and for me, as well as gratitude. I feel so lucky to be out of the constant mind-fucks and madness that accompanies eating disorders, and lucky to have someone ask for my experience, strength, and hope. Mostly, it was a reminder of how behind the smiles and facades of happiness that EDs so elegantly wear, we really never know just whom is struggling with an eating disorder in silence.

Fattest Cities in America

Hi All,

So, Miami has won the "Fattest City in America" contest, according to Men's Health Magazine. Where does your city fit in? (look below)

Some of the results were surprising. I live in Tampa, #23 on the Top Fittest, I grew up in Kansas City, #25 on the Top Fattest, and I'm moving back to NYC, #5 on the Top Fattest (the shocker for me).

There should be a list for the top cities for eating disorders and recovery.

Top Fittest Cities
1. Salt Lake City, UT
2. Colorado Springs, CO
3. Minneapolis, MN
4. Denver, CO
5. Albuquerque, NM
6. Portland, OR
7. Honolulu, HI
8. Seattle, WA
9. Omaha, NE
10. Virginia Beach, VA
11. Milwaukee, WI
12. San Francisco, CA
13. Tucson, AZ
14. Boston, MA
15. Cleveland, OH
16. St. Louis, MO
17. Austin, TX
18. Washington, DC
19. Sacramento, CA
20. Oakland, CA
21. Atlanta, GA
22. Fresno, CA
23. Tampa, FL
24. Nashville-Davidson, TN
25. Pittsburgh, PA
Top Fattest Cities
1. Miami, FL
2. Oklahoma City, OK
3. San Antonio, TX
4. Las Vegas, NV
5. New York, NY
6. Houston, TX
7. El Paso, TX
8. Jacksonville, FL
9. Charlotte, NC
10. Louisville-Jefferson, KY
11. Memphis, TN
12. Detroit, MI
13. Chicago, IL
14. Dallas-Fort Worth, TX
15. San Jose, CA
16. Tulsa, OK
17. Baltimore, MD
18. Columbus, OH
19. Raleigh, NC
20. Philadelphia, PA
21. L.A.-Long Beach, CA
22. Phoenix-Mesa, AZ
23. Indianapolis, IN
24. San Diego, CA
25. Kansas City, MO
How did your city do?

Recovery or Recovered?

A couple of years ago, I volunteered at a nonprofit eating disorder organization, USF Hope House for Eating Disorders. Upon meeting me, the director posed the question, "Do you think it's possible to be "recovered" from an eating disorder?"

With all of my OA program knowledge, and knowing that her program wasn't 12-Step based, instantly I replied, "No." Was she serious? Recover from an eating disorder? I had learned better.

Since then, I have questioned the term "recovered" often. "Recovered" could be rather subjective, depending on who you ask.

Does "recovered" mean that you just don't indulge in bingeing, purging, starving, or compulsive exercising anymore?

Does "recovered" mean that in addition to the above, you also never have another ED thought again?

How do we measure "recovered?"

"Recovery," on the other hand, while a humbling state of mind, could feel insecure to those who believe in "recovered," because it suggests a lack of permanence. One must watch their back at all times because the disease is always lurking around the corner, patiently waiting.

I don't have the answers, but what I do know is that over the last 15 years, I've met more and more people who believe they are "recovered." While I don't believe myself to be "recovered" because of all the mental hangups I still buy into when it comes to body image and food, I don't necessarily believe that anorexia and bulimia are diseases...in the same way that compulsive overeating mimics the disease model of addiction.

...To be continued.

The Conundrum of Recovery

I remember a therapist, many actually, telling me that for every year I put into my eating disorder, it would take the same amount of time to get to the same level of progression in recovery. 17 years? I didn't want to believe it, but as the years pass, I think to some extent the theory might prove true.

While I've been a longstanding member in the rooms of OA, at present(and for the last 3 years), I don't go. I'm somewhat of the atypical (not in a 'terminally unique' way) OA-er in that I eat anything I want, hence my blog title. Moreover, my abstinence has never been better.

With that said, there are myriad layers of recovery...defining recovery as finding serenity with food and body image.

This is where I am. I don't binge and purge or starve--haven't for a long time (yea!). However, I still have a mild obsession about when and what I will eat. I still look in the mirror to see if my "fat" has shifted or grown in any area. The difference today being that I can still leave the house if I "feel" fat.

What plagues me the most in this part of my recovery is that I still eat to comfort myself on some level. I hate this because, of course, I want to have perfect abstinence. I want never to "need" food. Even people without EDs eat for comfort from time to time.

The conundrum is that while I can let dualistic and distorted thinking impede on my serenity--the same thinking that drove me to the grocery store day after day for nearly 20 years--it is far less emotionally crippling. It's kind of like, so what? Life goes on. I don't know how my mentality has changed, but I can only attribute it to this process of recovery my therapist mentioned years back.

Cliche for the day: Recovery is not a destination. It's a process and a journey.

A Cup of Joe and a Teaspoon of Jibber-Jabber

Greetings All!!

My morning started out practically the same as every morning starts. I got up, took my two golden retrievers, Jack and Emma, out to do their business, and then headed to Starbucks, conveniently located less than 5 minutes from my house, for my usual coffee order--a Venti half-caf Pike's Place coffee with 4 pumps of gingerbread syrup (sugar-free cinnamon dolce when it's not the holiday season).

After I got my coffee, put in a shot of cream, as well as an insane amount of Equal (the number isn't relevant), I decided that I wanted to pay the equally insane $5.35 for the NY Times today. So back in line I went.

To preface, it should be noted that random people--anywhere I go--talk to me. I guess that's why I'm meant to be a therapist.

So...In line now for the second time, I find myself sandwiched between two men. The man behind me, a white-haired, pony-tail-sporting (is that really necessary?) sixty-something looks at this toddler, then turns to me and says, "Ah, isn't that a cute dress?"

I don't know if it's because I'm a social worker, but my automatic thought is, possible sexual predator. Five seconds after his comment, the man in front of me, another blue-collar sixty-something, reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, then turns to me and flashes an out-of-focus picture of his granddaughter.

"What a hit she was last night when grandma and me took her out for a showing at another coffee shop!" he says.

"Oh, what a cute girl she is." This was the only response I could muster. She wasn't cute. I couldn't even tell she was a girl.

Just when I thought our conversation had ended, he decides to speak again.

"Yeah, I'm just a Southern Baptist boy from the Bayou. I work in Tampa and Detroit in the automotive business, have two houses, and teach at the college in Detroit."

"Oh, you teach?"

"Yes, automotive class at the two highest levels."

Just as I'm thinking about asking him if he knows the definition of narcissism, he continues.

"Yeah, my wife gets so mad at me. She says,'I hate you! You do everything right!' Yep, I not only have one master-technician degree, but I'm a double master-technician. I excel at everything I do."

Clearly, he isn't aware of the definition of, or his own, narcissism.

After I stopped thinking about how it was too early in the morning for this type of insignificant discourse, and after I stopped wondering if the possible sexual predator behind me thought as I did, or was I just a rude bitch, a realization came to mind.

I'm not much different than the braggart from the Bayou. I, too, want to tell everyone what I've accomplished and how special I am. While my MO may be less overt than Bayou Boy, I have my ways of getting people to ask about my accomplishments. Of course,I hate when I do this. I guess that I, and perhaps Bayou Boy, need to hear the reinforcements so that maybe one day we won't need to hear how great we are from others. Internally, we will know it ourselves.

Cliche for the day: To know, is to believe.