Alone on the Stage

I am considering giving my fist public talk on eating disorders and my road to recovery at a wellness conference in June.  I have thought of extending my advocacy work to public speaking for a while.  Perhaps talking with teens at schools.  Or joining a group that supports positive body image and speaking.  Perhaps a panel answering questions on the topic from a patient perspective, along with professional providers.  After all, I already blog, have written my story of hope for the National Eating Disorder Association as well as Hungry for Change UK.  I have been open and honest with family, friends and acquaintances.  I have helped others find treatment that works for them.  I have been an advocate for recovery in many ways for a couple of years.

But this terrifies me.


It's not so much about getting up in front of people.  I was a competitive figure skater as a child and in theater in school.  I have no problem speaking in a crowd.  This is a different kind of fear.  My inner voice tells me I am a fraud.  I have contradicting thoughts.  One says I have never truly experienced an eating disorder.  This is not a new thought.  I have had this argument for years within my own head.  I have invalidated myself even while I was in treatment.  "I don't belong here." I would tell myself while in a locked down eating disorder facility.  I have said straight to my dietician's face, "I don't have an eating disorder."  Then there is this other side that tells me I am not well enough to help others.  Why on Earth should I give a speech on eating disorders when food is still such a battle for me.  How can I have both of these thoughts at the same freakin' time?!  It's all part of the disease of course.  Contradicting facts and lies.  It never makes any real sense.


With all of this doubt, why should I give a talk?  Why should I put my face and my body in front of a crowd to expose myself.  Writing is one thing.  I can hide behind a screen and a keyboard.  I don't have to look people in the eye or answer the tough questions face to face.  Even blogging and "coming out" has been incredibly scary.  I see people at the grocery store who know how messed I have been.  I get texts and e-mails from people asking for my help and opinions.  I have people coming up to me and saying, "I read your blog.  I get it.  I know what you're talking about."  It has been extremely eye-opening to see how wide-spread the problem with food is.  I feel honored that people trust me enough to talk with me.  And I really don't think I would change anything at this point.  I have come to terms with the embarrassment and the shame and turned it into helping others reach out.  Sometimes I just miss the anonymity of being quiet.


So I have a big decision that I pretty much need to make in the next day or so.  Do I get up in front of a crowd and tell my story?  What do I say?  Where do I begin?  How much do share?  What do I hold back?  What if I have to answer hard questions?  What if I don't have the answers?  On the other hand, what if one person, one mom or young girl or husband can relate?  What if I can get one person to seek treatment and live a healthier, happier, more free life?  What if I can get a family member or friend to understand?  Is that worth it to me?  I think it is.  I think my decision has been made.


Live on,


-Kristy

Is This All There Is?

Awwww crap.  It's happened again.  I was just sitting here, bored out of my freaking mind, trying to come up with something that I am looking forward to.  What do I have to get excited about?  What is going to keep me motivated to stay healthy, happy and optimistic?  Come on, what's going on this summer?  Fall?  I've got to get pumped!  What is it?  There has got to be something coming up.  Anything?  The thought smacked me in the face; a whole heaping pile of nothing.  Nada.  NOTHING!  I don't have jack to be excited about.  In fact, if anything, I have things coming up that are bound to make me mores stressed than usual.  This is always very dangerous.  Stress + boredom often = eating disorder behavior.  This is true for me anyway.  I'm trying to think if I have anything coming up.  A trip?  An event?  Life plans?  An adventure?   My sister is visiting at the end of August but her trips always come with mixed emotions.  I'm looking forward to seeing her but I always think about the unavoidable loss I will encounter when she leaves.  And of course her trip back home is more about her than it is about me.  What do I have for myself?  Ok, now I am feeling selfish.  Is that bad?


The only thing I could come up with is my trip back to Australia...in another two years.  The saving for this trip is going S-L-O-W.  I am feeling discouraged and sad that it is so far off.  I don't want to have to wait two years.  I need something sooner.  I need to make some plans immediately to keep me going.  Living life day in and day out the same way is suddenly not doing it for me.  So what am I going to do about it?  What am I going to do to keep me grounded and looking forward to the future with excitement.  Life is short.  What am I going to do?


I dunno.  (Insert pouty face here.)  Sigh...whine...woe is me.


Perhaps it is time for me to dig out my bucket list and actually complete (or start) some of things on it.  I keep getting stuck.  I can't.  I don't have time.  I've got kids to think of.  My husband needs me to do this and that.  I'm to old to learn, do, try something new.  It is time to stop throwing my own pity party.  Nobody is showing up to this shit show.  It's time to get off my ass.  I need to see things I've never seen before.  Expose my kids to the world.  Try something new!  My son is learning how to play guitar.  Why can't I learn too?  I've wanted to know how to speak Spanish for years.  So why am I not learning it?  Why am I not actually not doing that photography project I came up with a year ago?  Why am I not going to those yoga workshops I have thought about?  Can we not take a road trip down the Oregon Coast this year?  Why have I not bought those ticket for my son's first rock concert yet?


Something has been holding me back.  I have been sabotaging my own plans.  Plans I have conjured up on my own.  I suddenly don't feel good enough or up to the challenges.  Going in and out with the ebb and flow has been easier.  Safer.  No trying, no failing, right?  How boring is that?  How boring am I?  This is how depression begins for me.  It starts off here and goes down hill at an accelerated rate until I am really, really unhappy and sick.  At least this time I can notice it.  A step in the right direction!


So, my goal tonight after the kids pass out is to have an open discussion with my guy.  I need to do something.  We need to make some plans and get excited about the next few months.  Even better, maybe he'll read this post and know just how much I need this to stay healthy.  What is the whole point of it all if there is no excitement or passion?  Maybe he's feeling the same way too.  Our lives have gotten pretty monotonous and routine.  Same shit.  Different day.  Perhaps it is time for a change.


*Do you ever get stuck in a rut?
*What do you do when life is feeling ordinary and dull?
*How do you motivate yourself?

-Live on!


-Kristy

Eating and Thowing Away the Croissant

This morning I had an epiphany.  An "Oh my God!" moment.  A real eye-opening experience.  Are you ready?  Here it is:  I can throw food away.

I didn't know it could be done.


The story begins last night.  I skipped dinner yesterday because I just was not hungry.  I had a bowl of cereal as a snack in the evening but that's about it.  Come this morning, I was hangry (hungry enough to make me angry).  I ate one hard-boiled egg from the Easter batch we dyed last night.  It didn't cut it.  I wasn't about to kill anyone anymore but my hunger was definitely not satisfied.  On my way in to work I stopped by Starbucks to get a breakfast.  I do this pretty regularly but it is almost always a mind-battle:  "What do I get?  Should I get something healthy?  What sounds good?  What is good for me?  What do I plan to have for the rest of the day?  How many calories is in this vs. that?  I should get oatmeal.  That is healthy.  Fruit, grains, protein..."  BLAH BLAH BLAH!  Today I just drove up and didn't think.  I got my usual drink (tall caramel macchiato) and a chocolate croissant.  I love them.  I haven't had one in a while.  It was what sounded good.  Gooey, warm, chocolaty.  Yum!

I got to work and did my thing.  Clocked in, turned on my music, looked for my debit card that I thought I lost again.  Sipped my sweet, creamy coffee.  And I started nibbling on my croissant.  Normally I would scarf that sucker down like it's going to run away from me.  After all, I don't know when I am going to have one again.  It is sooooo good.  So forbidden.  So bad.  So not allowed in my diet a couple of years ago.  And if I did "fail" and eat one, right back up it would have come a few minutes later.  Along with some other compensatory actions.  Food like that had a power that no food should process.  The calories were calculated and the ingredients judged like they had done some terrible crime.  Over time, by allowing these types of foods back into my world as only what they are: Food and fuel, the power of them has decreased.


Today I ate my croissant at a normal speed.  You know, take a bite.  Put the rest down.  Chew it.  Taste it.  Swallow it.  It took me much longer to eat it.  I chatted with my co-workers, checked my e-mail.  Not distracted.  Just doing what I wanted to do while eating.  When I came down to a couple of bites I was full.  Satisfied and happy.  No longer hangry, I had a different kind of battle with myself.  This time it was, "Do I finish, save or throw away?"  Typically that thing would have been gone instantly and I would have wanted more.  This time I was listening to my body.  Feeding it slowly but not too slowly.  I'm full.  I don't really have enough to save.  l can throw the last couple of bites away.  "What?  NO!  You can't do that!  It's precious!  Special!  There are children starving!  You don't know when you will be able to get one of these things again!"  Guess what?  I can get a chocolate croissant tomorrow if I want one.  Yep.  Two in a row if that is what I feel like.  I tossed the last couple of bites.  I have never done that before.  I had never even considered it before.  If it was something "special,"  If it was right there in front of me,  It was going down.  It's been a few years since my food came back up.  But the battle in my brain has always been there.


Someone asked me this week what "Normal Eating" is.  It's a question many of us who do and even those who don't have disordered eating think about.  What is "Normal" anyway?!   I love Ellyn Satter's take on it.  She explains it so perfectly:

What is Normal Eating?

by Ellyn Satter, MS, RDN, LCSW, BCD


Normal eating is going to the table hungry and eating until you are satisfied. It is being able to choose food you like and eat it and truly get enough of it-not just stop eating because you think you should. Normal eating is being able to give some thought to your food selection so you get nutritious food, but not being so wary and restrictive that you miss out on enjoyable food. Normal eating is giving yourself permission to eat sometimes because you are happy, sad or bored, or just because it feels good. Normal eating is mostly three meals a day, or four or five, or it can be choosing to munch along the way. It is leaving some cookies on the plate because you know you can have some again tomorrow, or it is eating more now because they taste so wonderful. Normal eating is overeating at times, feeling stuffed and uncomfortable. And it can be undereating at times and wishing you had more. Normal eating is trusting your body to make up for your mistakes in eating. Normal eating takes up some of your time and attention, but keeps its place as only one important area of your life.
In short, normal eating is flexible. It varies in response to your hunger, your schedule, your proximity to food and your feelings.

So yeah!  I can throw something special away.  Or I can eat the whole damn thing!  I just have to listen to what my body and soul are needing at that particular moment.  I just need to listen to those things rather than all the extra junk going on in my head.  If I do this consistently I will be a normal eater and my body will know just what to do.


Live on!


-Kristy

I Wish I Could Fix Her- how even a recovering anorexic doesn't have all the answers

Photographer unknown

Through this disease I have met so many others who struggle with food and other substances.  I have met some  truly amazing people both in the treatment center where I stayed, and through my advocacy work.  I have encountered others  with eating disorders and addictions all over the board.  When I left the hospital, it was advised by the some of the staff to cut off all ties with other patients I met at the facility.  I have lost contact with a large number of the people I met during my three month stay in Denver.  However, there are few I have chosen and feel safe enough to stay in contact with.  Social media has made it easy to know how others are doing, or to keep my distance.  At the treatment center there were many patients that came from my neck of the woods since at the time treatment in the Pacific Northwest was very limited for eating disorders.  A small community consisting of others who know this battle has been helpful in my own recovery journey.

I care deeply about the people I have met through this recovery process.  I see similarities and differences and respect the struggle these men and women are going through.  There is a certain empathy I have.  A compassion and a patience that perhaps people on the outside might not have.  After all, people who have never had an eating disorder or an addiction problem often find if very difficult to comprehend.  I have felt and thought the very same things as these people who struggle.  I get it.  All the twisted thoughts and behaviors, I understand.  I have been there.  And it has been a huge support to me in my recovery to know I have never been alone.

However, the fact remains, that even though I have been there, starving, purging, shoving donuts in my mouth,  stepping on that fucking scale obsessively, abusing myself, even after all of this: I still don't have the right words.  If I could save someone, I would.  But I can't.  This is hard for me to come to terms with because I feel like I should be able to.

This brings me to the present moment.  I currently have a dear friend who is drowning in anorexia.  I am afraid for her.  Over the last couple of years I have seen her deteriorate at an alarming rate.  If she doesn't get more help, I am certain she will die.  The thing that surprises me is that I don't know what to do.  I cant' fix her.  I can't convince her.  I cant' make her see what I see.  I feel like I should know just what to do, and still I try.  I keep thinking if I say the right combination of words and commit to the right actions, she will miraculously see the truth from the lies her eating disorder tells her.  She will recover.  I could be the one to help her.  I figure since I have been sick, and since I am doing so well in my own recovery, I should know just what to do.  I don't.

Even though I worry every day that she could die from this, there is nothing more I can do except pick up the phone when she calls.  Listen to what she has to say and know the pain.  I don't have to try to fix it.  Though, that is what I feel like I should be able to do.  Ultimately this journey is hers and has to be.  She has to want life.  She has to choose to fight for herself.  I can only tell her how much I care about her.  I can tell her the truth I see.  I can be the honesty that the eating disorder is hiding from her.  That is all I have the power to do.  It is hard for me and the ones who love her to watch her suffer.  It makes me think of what my friends and family must have gone through when they watched me disappear.  I now understand the fear, the frustration, the sadness, the anger and the helplessness.  I know her as a person who is incredible even when in the grips of anorexia.  I just wonder if I will ever get the chance to know how amazing she could be out of it.  I hope I get this opportunity someday.

For all of you who wonder what to do for their loved ones in this disease, I wish there were a straight and exact answer.  We only have actions over ourselves.  All we can do is show we care, and be honest about our own feelings.  In the end, it really is up to each of us to choose recovery.


Live on,


-Kristy

I Could Change My Arms, But Then What?

I hate my arms.  There.  I said it.  When I look at the reflection of my arms all I see are wobbly and soft appendages.  To me, they are not strong or beautiful.  And, as usual  I see them (along with many other things) as too big.  Over the fall and winter my awkward arms could be hidden and concealed.  I have been able to kind of avoid seeing myself.  But spring has arrived with a vengeance here.  The sun is out, the temperature is warm and I want to get outside.  I want to get away from the stupid sweaters that I've been hiding in these past few months.  Logically I know that I am way more critical of my arms, and every other part of my body, than anyone else is.  I apparently tend to see things that aren't necessarily there in the scope I believe them to be.  "But I SEE IT!"  This is part of the dysmorphia element that I struggle with.  My typical pattern would be to "fix" my arms.  Easily done.  Start working out obsessively.  Doing yoga with weights on.   Starving myself.  The problem is, once my arms are "fixed" then what?

I'll tell you what.  I will dislike another part of my body.  No matter how much I weigh, how much I lose, how little I eat, how much I exercise, there will always be something.  And at some point I will eventually  hyper-focus on something I can't do a damn thing about.  First my arms, then my legs, then my tummy, then my thighs.  Next I will criticize my face and all it's permanent flaws.  It's never ending.  And it is also not the real problem.  There is something much deeper.  My job at this point is to notice it's happening and try to figure out what the real issue is.  When I go down the road of physical self abuse, there is always, ALWAYS, something else going on.  This is also where people who do not suffer with Eating Disorders or Body Dysmorphic Disorders get the wrong idea.  The issue is not about vanity, (and I was called "vain" this week) it's about other stuff.  Deeper, not so superficial crap.  This is just how it manifests itself.  Perhaps I am struggling with fear, shame, sadness, anger, stress, boredom, and or none of the above!  My brain tries to protect me from looking at the uncomfortable or painful issues.  After all, it's easier to fix my arms right?

So back to the job at hand.  What's going on in life that has me so focused on my body, and not looking into my feelings?  I realized that the last week or two there has been a lot going on around me.   I have taken on too much emotionally.  But then again, that's who I am and what I do.  I crave that connection with people during times of stress.  But how do I take care of myself in the midst of chaos?  How do I take a step back?  What if I don't want to?  What if my compassion fatigue sets in again and I just turn apathetic?  That could happen if I don't remember that I come first.  My world does revolve around me.  My well being and healthy state of mind have to comes first to me.  I cannot be the effective and compassionate person I want to be if I am not these things to myself first.  I need to give myself the oxygen before I can help anyone else.  This is very difficult for me to actually put into place.  I feel like I always have to give, give, give.  Perhaps I need to give to myself too.

As I look at this deeper and try to find the reasons why I start hating on my body I take a deep, patient breath.  I try to remind myself that I am lucky I have my arms.  I don't like to look at them.  But I am reminded to think of all the things they do for me.  They carry my children.  They hold on to my daughter as she tries to ride her bike.  They wrap around my kitty while I nap.  They embrace my best friends genuinely.  They carry trays off food to people in need during a disaster.  They're not beautiful, but they are perfect for me.  Who knows how long I will be able to have them, or any other part of my body for that matter.  They don't need to be corrected.  Just respected.  I have other things to work on.

Live on!

-Kristy

Study of Arms
by Leonardo Da Vinci

My Sexy Evening

When you’re 36, married for 16 years, have a full time job outside of the home, have two crazy kids and a few pets, nothing says wild, sexy, crazy night like…crashing at 10:00pm in a deep, drooling, doze.  Bring on dreams of Ryan Gossling.  Ahhh…..there you go.  The perfect sleep.  Warm sheets, a nice pillow.  Yes.  I have waited for this moment all damn day!

Now, what can snap your ass awake from a make-out session with the above mentioned?  The following 4 words:  “Mom, my tummy hurts.”  Shit!  What?!  “Are you going to throw up?”  All of you parents out there, you know that when a child confirms that vomiting will commence, that means you should have been ready for this 20 seconds ago.  “THE POT!  GET THE POT!”  The pot you ask?  Our 6 year old is overly dramatic about the act of yaking and insists it be done only in “the pot”.

My snail-like husband stumbles up to find the blessed receptacle.   I hear him looking in cabinets, then the dishwasher as my daughter proceeds to spew.  I desperately try to catch the chuck in my futile hands.  It was hopeless to even try.  The warmth hits me.  The smell hits me.  I yell for my still absent husband!  “FASTER!  HURRY UP!”  I hear him pick up the pace.  Any damn pot would have done at this point.

Apparently when you are a cat, you don’t have to do a damn thing when someone is sick.  You can continue sleeping and dreaming about whatever the hell you want to dream about!  Lucky.

I sigh, my little angel looks at me scared.  “It’s ok.”  I soothe her.  “It’s alright.  Let’s get you cleaned up.”  I strip the bed trying to beat the seeping into my mattress.  My cat finally moves.  I stumble dizzy and adrenaline filled to the washing machine trying to not actually touch any more sick; as if it matters, the girl threw-up in my hands for God sakes!  I get the machine going on hot, hoping the noise does not wake my 10 year old.  He’s obliviously in dreamland.  Lucky.  I sort out the laundry while I am at it.  putting in the soap, the softener, checking the settings.  I am there for a good few minutes trying to compose myself.  My husband stumbles over after remaking the bed.  “How is she doing?”  he asks me.  I glare at him, “I don’t freakin’ know!”  I snap.  “I have been here doing the laundry!”  The poor man backs off.  No question is a good question when you have just been puked on.  I think he understands.

I try to clean myself off as best I can.  Nope.  A shower is the only thing that can get this smell off.  One does not simply wipe off the smell of spew.  This is a smell that must be scrubbed off.  I get in the steaming water.  Might as well wash my hair while I am in there.  I finally make it back to my bed.  It is clean and fresh, thanks to my sexy man.  My little girl lay between us, feverish and innocent.  I kiss her goodnight.

My sexy evening.

What did you do?

Live on!

-Kristy

Letting Go- my journey into Radical Acceptance



Girl with the red balloon by Bansky

My thighs touched this morning.  I accept this.


As a woman who has struggled with an eating disorder for most of her adult life, the idea of Radical Acceptance seems foreign.  Crazy.  Impossible.  After all, the main function of an eating disorder for me and for many others, is a fight to not accept reality.  It is a way manipulate or avoid the facts.  If I don't like what is going on in life, if I don't like how I feel, if I can't accept and let be the world that is, well damn it all I can lose weight!  That is what I can control.  That is what I can change.  I can put my blinders on.  While to the unknowing population an eating disorder is a vain attempt to "look good", this is not it at all accurate.  In reality, it was a way to pigeonhole or disengage from everything.  The world is too scary, chaotic and out of control.  If I can focus on what I eat, how much I eat, how I eat, where I eat; then I don't have to really think about the deep shit I don't want to think about.  The hard stuff.  If I can focus only being the perfect version of myself, if I can focus only on getting that number on the evil metal and plastic square down, down, down; then I don't have to think about the world around me.  I don't have to think about my fears, my failures, my hopes or  my dreams.  There are none.  There is only a shell of a woman, and her eating disorder.  The never-ending plight to go lower.


I can no longer feel my bones.  I accept this.


Now that I am this far into my recovery, I am having to practice something new; something besides the strict behaviors and rituals of an eating disorder.  I am having to see.  I am having to experience.  I am having to practice Radical Acceptance.  It's weird.  It's scary.  What is it?  Psychology might describe Radical Acceptance as the letting go of control.  Letting be what is.  Not trying to change, alter, hide, manipulate reality.  Things are what they are.  The good, the bad, the pretty, the ugly.  They just are.  So what am I having to accept in myself that I previously was not able to?  Well, Before I was only able to hide or change the things about myself that I did not like or accept.  Now, they are all in my face.


My body is what it is.  In recovery, I am obviously having to let my body find its natural balance.  It is doing what it needs to do.  I am learning to accept that.  If I want to be fully well, I have to let my body be.  I cannot fight to change its shape and size.  I cannot fix that lump here or starve away that bulge there.  I cannot purge away arms I don't like or the tummy that has carried two babies.  I have to look myself in the mirror and say to myself, "Yes.  That's me.  That's what I look like under my clothes."  I have to take a deep breath and take it in.  It's hard.  Sometimes it SUCKS!  Sometimes I can't look for very long.  But the next day might be different.  I accept.


My age is what it is.  Now I know you may roll your eyes.  I know I am not an old woman.  However, I am not young woman anymore either.  This is a recent realization for me.  We all come to this conclusion or will at some point in our lives.  I will be 36 this month.  I am closer to 40 than 30.  And it's ok.  We're all going the same direction.  None of us are moving back into youth.  I am getting wrinkles around my eyes.  I have tinsel in my hair that I am not dying away.  I have made the conscious decision that I am not going to fight this process.  I will not let my daughter see that I am desperately trying to turn back the clock.  I will show her that I accept and respect myself.  I will not cling to the past.  I will not dwell in my youth.  There is something beautiful in letting nature take its course.  I do not want to play into the culture of fear.  I do not want to buy jars of hope and clothes of fantasy.  I want to age as gracefully and as beautifully as I can.  I'll still wear a little make-up because it makes me feel pretty.  I'll wear my hair long or short whatever suits my fancy.  I will get a tattoo because it tells my story and feels real to me.  But I will not try to alter myself to stick to something that is passing away for everyone.  I accept.


Who I am is who I am.  This one is tricky.  I'm not entirely sure who I am yet.  I am still trying to figure it out.  I suspect I will always be trying to know myself.  Accepting myself as I am inside is hard.  Forgiving myself  for past mistakes is hard.  Letting go of expectations of myself is hard.  Putting away the individual masks I wear for each person is hard.  I have to come to terms with the parts of myself that I don't really care for.  I can be loud.  I swear like a sailor.  I am often judgmental.  I can be immature.  Sometimes I have the patience of a 2-year-old.  I am often kind of scatter-brained.  I can be terribly lazy.  I am extremely gullible.  I don't say theses to berate myself.  I say them only to accept them and remember that everyone has characteristics about themselves that they don't' like.  I just happen to be writing mine down today.  There are great many other things about myself that I think are pretty badass!  Instead of trying to fix or ignore, or deny these things about myself, I am going to say, "Yes.  Those things are there."  They are only pieces that make me who I am.  The are not all of me all the time.  They don't' need to be denied or shamed.  I accept.


My world is what it is.  I have a depressive organized brain.  I tend to lean into the sadness of the world.  I can relate to sorrow.  I have immense empathy and sometimes it all feels too much.  An eating disorder was a way to turn off that part of myself.  I cannot change the atrocities of the whole world.  I cannot make children come back to life.  I cannot make the "bad guys" disappear.  Natural disasters are not up to me.  I have to understand that sometimes bad things happen without any rhyme or reason.  Things are out of my hands.  I can do the best I can in my own little space, but I cannot be responsible for the world.  I can see it and learn lessons from what I see.  But it is not all mine.  There is great beauty in the world and in people that often gets overshadowed.  The good and the bad exist.  I accept.


My middle is round and soft.  I accept this.


So this is my journey right now.  I have to remind myself to practice of Radical Acceptance every single day.  There are some things that can be changed and should be.  There is a great many things that just are what they are and need no altering.  I accept.


Live on,


-Kristy


For more reading on Radical Acceptance try
http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/pieces-mind/201207/radical-acceptance