It's been a while... and I am doing well...

I have found myself in more control then I would expect lately...over my eating, that is.

Other things in my life, not so much. Is it a "it can only be one or the other" type of thing? Emotionally, I have been a wreck lately...last 4 months lately. But, I haven't been taking it out on my eating habits like I usually do. I have worked hard to push my emotions aside; I've worked hard to make them disappear, even if just for one sad and disappointed free Friday night out in my dancing shoes. I've not been drinking every day. But, when I drink, I drink; when I drink, I just don't care. I do what I want; I say what I want; I let him know it, too.

Peter Towers...remember me mentioning him in a previous blog? He is killing me softly. And, surprisingly enough, shockingly enough to me, I am doing well; I feel like I have control and awareness of my eating disorder. At least I have control of that...

Does this blog make me selfish?

Someone who I love dearly asked me why I want to "tell the world" about my issues... Hmmm... An excerpt from my journal:

My Passion

My passion is to use my weaknesses
to instill strength and hope in others.
I want to use my weaknesses as
a reason for someone to find strength.
I want to encourage and relate.
Without faith in ourselves and in each other,
where would the world leave us? Alone.
No one is alone; no one is lost on their own.
My goal is to guide and inspire, and
to instill faith and confidence in those
who suffer from what I suffered from.

I really deep down believe I am meant to make a difference in regards to all this. At the same time, her comment made me think. Hmmm, maybe this is semi-selfish. Maybe I am doing this just for me. I feel the need to get 'this' out; somewhere, anywhere. Anywhere but within the words I silently, or sometimes softly-aloud, speak to myself; words I sometimes scream to myself.

So far, I think this IS for my own good. I mean, how long can you go talking to yourself so much that you consider the chance your sanity may be fading, and sooner rather than later. Maybe I am still talking to myself, just 'on paper'. I don't know if anyone reads this. But, maybe, just maybe, someone will. Someone who needs desperately to relate; to know that there are other people out there that feel and experience what they do.

Wherever you are, I invite you to relate. It's real, I know. And, no, whoever you are, you are not crazy. You're not.

She's scared of a food tasting

Today, I have a food tasting at 1pm. It's for the new restaurant I am starting to bartend at this week. I am scared to go and feel like I am on the verge of a panic attack. All these rich, fattening foods are going to be displayed and I am am suppossed to taste all of the dishes. This means I am going to eat too much. I am going to try to be "good". I did cardio at the gym this morning; I may have to do more cardio later to feel okay about the calories I am about to consume. Let's see how it goes...

What "Eating to Live, Not the Alternative" means to Her

Eating to live makes sense, right? You need the nutrients and nourishment from good foods to live a healthy life. You must eat to live.

Living to eat, that's the opposite; the unhealthy. If you are someone that lives to eat, then you can probably relate to her. When she eats, it is not always to rid herself of hunger pains. No. Much more often, she eats to rid herself from emotional pains; emotional pains that she can't seem to just shake off, emotional pains that leave her feeling empty...emotionally empty. When she gets these unshakable emotional pains, she turns to her easy-to-find source of comfort and fulfillment. She turns to food. The problem with trying to fill yourself, your soul, your heart with food...it doesn't work. And, it never will. She already knew that, she's known that for years now. Yet, she still gets caught up and let down, way down.

More poetry from a disordered eater

She wrote this poem in a very bad state and was having an extremely bad day at this point... Music has always been a savior to me, to her...


Music Saves Her Soul

A darkness thick as soot overwhelms her eyes
She is lost in a place where sight is invalid
With her body brittle and numb, she sits alone
Her faith is broken and her soul is fragile
Her breathes are due only to innate necessity
Feeling like a puzzle of too many scattered pieces
She fades into a silent trance, a self-induced coma
Conviction for recovery bears minimal guarantee
She searches for an escape route through melody
Reaching for play took all that she’s got
She soon gains subtle assurance within its sound
With a firm-clench in both fists and jaw
Her body begins to rock slightly; backwards, forwards
Her muscles flex as she bounces slightly staccato
Her eyes are closed, but upward she stares
The music, its moving through her saving her soul
This prayer within song tells her endure and tell Him
With the faintest murmur, she follows this lyrical lead
“It’ll be alright”, “It’ll be alright” and she believes

(partly inspired by Lauryn Hill's "Tell Him")

It will be alright...it will. Nothing lasts forever. Weight is not permanent. Changes CAN happen. Every day IS a NEW day. So, relax. It'll be alright, I promise...

Every Day Is A New Day!

When a bad day leaves a disordered eater feeling desperate and alone, guilty and fragile, worthless and numb, the world could practically end. The most important focus has to be, life is not over. Life will move on and those feelings will pass. Every day has potential. Every day is just what it seems. Every day is a new day.

"It's amazing how forgiving my mind, body and soul can be when I just treat them with a little respect."

"It's amazing how much prettier, confident and just completely different you can feel when you're happy compared to the alternative."

To Be Continued...

The binge eating perspective..

Someone once asked me, "What's the difference between binge eating, as in the eating disorder, and just pigging out and knowing you just ate way too much?"

Everyone pigs out sometimes. Hello, Thanksgiving!...or holidays in general. Maybe a BBQ or a party... sometime. But, to a binge eater or a bulimic, the act of "pigging out" is emotionally and physically much different.

To a binge eater or a bulimic, the act in which one overeats is usually much different then sitting down to a meal and splurging by having seconds and a sweet dessert. A binge eater probably won't make a plate or even sit down to binge. The binge eater will definitely make sure they are alone. The binge eater may plan for this binge; they may have gotten their favorite take-out (part of them hoping they will eat some, a legitimate portion size, and save themselves leftovers rather than totally binge and eat it all). They may have gotten their favorite dessert for later (again, hoping they just might keep control and only eat half of that huge slice of carrot cake or pint of Ben and Jerry's). They might stand in front of an open fridge and open cupboards and consume hundreds, maybe thousands of random calories without even realizing it. A binge eater keeps eating because the thoughts in their head won't let it go. Eating that next piece of this and the next bite of that has become an obsession; an uncontrollable obsession that cannot be let go of until it is done...and done...and done... The binge eater usually experiences all of this disordered overeating in an almost trance like state. While grazing and binging during this trance-like time, it may even bring the eater into a certain type of euphoric state. The minute, the second that its over, their self-esteem and sense of worth is irrevocably gone. Their day is over, its has been lost. They are now officially a complete and utter failure. Guilt takes over. Their obsessive thoughts take a turn; a turn into disbelief. Once again, they just totally messed up.
She can't believe she just let that happen; she just lost; she lost all control, again!
...Purging is almost always a considerable option. But, sometimes, they may not even feel like they deserve to purge. The guilt-laden, disbelieving failure they just became (again) definitely doesn't deserve that "easy" way out.

So, what's the difference? Obsessive thoughts that lead in to their trance-like state of "pigging out", doing this binging most definitely alone (because if ANYONE saw this, it would be devastatingly embarrassing), a feeling of a loss of control, and GUILT...extreme guilt in what they just let happen, again...

Once a bad day, always a bad day...

Every morning when I wake up, I intend to have a "good" day. I wake up thinking about 2 things: coffee & oatmeal.
Oatmeal is my everyday breakfast. Its healthy, its smooth and creamy, it satisfies me and it comforts me. Its necessary and it makes me feel like I am being "good" from the first minute of the day...which is also necessary.

After my "good" breakfast, I usually have plenty of cravings and chances to not be "good". Its a conscience decision I have to make and dedicate myself to daily. I can decide in the morning to have a good day. But, if I do mess up (or what I think is messing up), suddenly, I am overwhelmed. I am overwhelmed with a feeling of personal disappointment and guilt. Usually, there is no recovering. Failure. I already failed, therefore I am now a failure. Game over.

My inner eating disordered devil yells at me and says, "Hey, you already messed up...might as well just give up and keep messing up because you are a screw up". To her this suddenly declares the day a cheat day. And when she cheats, she really really cheats. The 'screw up' in her just goes ahead and runs cheat-wild.

The next day has extreme potential to be another bad day. Unless she is really careful from the time she opens her eyes, failure will continue into this day... Eating really well from the start and a really good trip to the gym is a MUST to stop the "bad" cycle and to force her inner eating disordered devil to SHUT UP!

...Because, EVERY DAY IS A NEW DAY!...

Searching for a feeling of accomplishment

I turned 26 recently. I graduated high school in 2002...that means my 10 year reunion is right around the corner. I graduated from the University of South Florida in December of 2006, almost 4 years ago. I graduated with about a 3.4 and walked away with a piece of paper...A lot of people tell me that that piece of paper, that Bachelor's degree should make me feel accomplished in itself (but, it doesn't...).

I worked and supported myself, with the help of plenty of student loans, throughout my time at USF. I was in a sorority, Kappa Delta. I had a serious boyfriend, who I separated myself from in 2007. I had plenty of opportunity to have fun, make money, and accomplish. I am stuck with the feeling that I wasted a lot of that opportunity.

Since I earned my degree, my mind has changed and been rattled and has been busy racing around itself. My goal was to get my Master's degree and become a counselor...that didn't pan out the way I thought it would. I have always wanted to write books about positive self-esteem and body image as well as the reality of a disordered eater. I've wanted to public speak, to inspire. I've wanted to write cookbooks; I love to cook. I've wanted to settle down and fall in love; who doesn't? I've wanted to improve myself, transform myself into more of a loving provider and get ready for a family. I've wanted to do a lot. But, I haven't done anything. I feel like I haven't finished and actually accomplished anything. I am 26 now. I feel like the same confused, lost soul I was at 18, at 21, at 23, 24, 25...I feel stuck. I have grown in age. Time has passed. But I feel the same. Unfulfilled, unappreciated (mostly by myself), undeveloped, unproductive, underachieved...UNACCOMPLISHED.

What burning calories means to her...

The gym is my sanity. Without it, I feel like a different person. I feel lost and disturbed and mentally unsteady. Cardiovascular exercise makes me feel like everything can be okay. No matter what happens, no matter how "bad" she is, the gym can make it better.

Calories.

The gym burns calories. And when she burns calories, she doesn't think how great that could have been for her heart. No. She very specifically and simply thinks, 'hmmm, well if this elliptical machine says I burnt 350 calories, that means I burnt off the peanut butter I slathered on that healthy english muffin I had this morning and the blue cheese crumbles I had on my loaded-with-veggie salad for lunch.' So, now, it feels okay to her to have eaten it.

If she burns off the "bad", life can move on. Sanity can stay put, and all is well in the world once again.

Oh, bustier...

How scared can a girl be of a bustier? A bustier I will soon have to work as a bartender in 4, 5, 6 times a week...

Definition of bustier:

a woman's close-fitting, sleeveless, strapless top, often elasticized, usually having boning or facing to give it shape, and worn as a blouse.

My definition:
a terrifying piece of tiny, shiny, revealing and snug material that I am dreadfully having to commit myself to wearing/working in.

Her most consuming thought:
Gosh, I really hope I don't have a "bad day...or 2...".
Because then, for her, wearing a bustier in front of people, at work, when she is supposed to look amazing and beautiful and hot...ugh, torturous.

She is really scared of this black bustier...

Body-n-Soul by: Asha Bandele

I was introduced to this writer by someone special to me. I will refer to him as Peter Towers throughout this blog. When I read this piece of poetry by Asha Bandele, it hit me, smack dab on the face. It hits home to her, completely.

This is taken from
Absence in the palms of my hands
by: Asha Bandele


Body-n-Soul


i didn't mean for my towel to drop or to be standing nude in front of the
full length mirror the other morning...but there we were, trapped,
the three of us: me, the mirror and my naked body.

i've avoided being nude in front of myself for years...i have hated my
body for nearly as long as i've had one
i've been a million different sizes in my life, but never quite the right size...
my skin was never quite the right shade...
always too light or too dark depending upon
who i was with.

it's not as though i don't know better...
i'm embarrassed to know as many theories as i do
and still be in struggle.

i know that the american aesthetic is perverse, anti-woman
and bounded by a solely western sense of beauty...i know
that even americans did not demand this image of prepubescent fragility
in women until well into this century... i know the
wideness of my hips makes biological sense...
and i know a million other feminist theories and truths...
i have books filled with highlighted paragraphs to prove that i have studied
and
understand these self-affirming things...but that knowing doesn't change
the way i've felt for at least the last 15 years.

i am ashamed to say that i hate my body
but it has been my enemy for so long now
& i know somewhere that the real enemy has been the various reactions
that my body has created in other people who have their own
issues biases agendas & afflictions
but it's easier to attack my 5'6", lightskinned, 142 pound frame...
i have no power over the men who pay me/my body attention
i never wanted
or dispelled affections i desperately needed...
depending upon my state of fatness or thinness...
but this body which is mine, i can
stairmaster
diet, jog, powerwalk and starve into submission.

i don't want to live this way.

i want to see the value of my body in the creative framework of what it
does despite its conformity or non-conformity to the western tradition
i want to value the body i have which has always been able to hold and
to love
to dance, walk, write poems, clean houses, massage my sister, rise every
morning and
try try try
to contribute to another life,
which like mine,
is struggling for something we hesitantly call
peace

Poetry about a disordered eater

I wrote this a couple years back...this is describing my secret. My eating disordered secret... a secret no longer.


Suffering in Silence

Apathetic toward her request
An addict abnormal in notion
Her mind has got a mind of its own

In a whirlwind of sorrow and war
Reality’s blurred by her façade
Secrets, silence, truth; all these remain

A sea of abyss is her conscious
Her bordering walls are dense, upright
Irrevocably so, she’s buried

Her secrets are safe, yet destructive
Only if exposed will you know her
So a jovial faux she’ll live on

A route she must map first for escape
Until then she stays hidden in shame
She’s suffering in her own silence

What this Blog is all about...

Well, I guess this is my cue (or I mean, her cue..) to admit it. I am in recovery, a constant state of recovery. I am recovering from something that many suffer from; from something that no one would ever actually know about another person unless the one suffering tells their secret. The secret, my secret, her secret...I am recovering from an eating disorder, or should she say, from eating disorders; every one of them.

I have nearly starved myself. I have binged and then self-tormentingly purged (and, repeat). I have just plain binged (and, repeat). I have gone so long without eating that I felt like I could faint. I have eaten so much that I felt like I could literally explode. I have made myself believe I was "allergic" to foods so I wouldn't eat them, to make it sound okay to those who realized I never, ever touched those foods.

I, for the most part, do not eat because I am hungry or because my stomach is growling. Usually, I eat because I feel empty. Because, basically, I crave to eat as a means to fill myself. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy, I crave to fill myself with the flavor and comfort of all kinds of food. Like an endless emotional desire, I eat. The title 'I am an emotional eater', ewww, I really don't like it. Simply because, dammit, it is what I am. Am I alone? Nah, I know I'm not... I am not the only one who 'lives to eat', so to speak.

When you say it all 'outloud', it doesn't make sense; none of this eating disorder stuff make sense. I am the first to admit that. But, it is what it is... and it is, it really is.

1, 2, 3, Blog...

Not sure where to start this journey. I have a history, as we all do. Mine is not covered in black soot or in bright flowers. It is mixed. I'd describe it more like a gothically colored butterfly whose left wing, only sometimes, doesn't allow her to fly as high as she desires.

Maybe you already noticed, but I usually refer to myself in the 3rd person. Rather than declaring yourself as a lost, passionate soul, it is easier to lighten the weight by describing a her or a she. It seems to be what works for me, so, here she goes...