I saw myself small on the inside
I saw myself large on the outside
then I saw me
And I was free
our work continues... it never ends.
THANK GOD FOR PEANUT BUTTER! (oh and string cheese.....)
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Believe with me
I have to believe there is a life after ED, and that we recover and that we move on and live a free and restful life without it. There is so much to hope for my friends. Recovery is a beautiful, stronger, smarter, happy place. It is a place with healthy soul, mind, life and relationships. Recovery is real, it is out there. I choose every day to believe that. And we find freedom when we can truly believe in ourselves. But until that day....
Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see a shadow.
-Helen Keller
Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see a shadow.
-Helen Keller
Saturday, March 21, 2009
My Planet
One thing which is unique to eating disorder recoverers, and which makes it so difficult for us while we suffer, while we go through the process of recovery, and after, is how ubiquitous food (and related issues of weight and body image) is. The alcoholic or other substance abusers can walk away from the places and opportunities that will trigger a relapse or a problem. They can easily and clearly verbally set limits to others regarding these needs as well. And We wonder sometimes too, if you really understand how much like aliens we are sharing this food planet with you.....
On My Planet
Grocery stores would only have the foods I want to eat on sale the day I want to eat them.
Food is never fried, or otherwise contaminated by visible grease, butter, or heavy oils.
There would be no bakeries, no candy stores, no pizza places, no fast food places.
Movie theaters would not have concession stands.
Restaurants would only serve my menus (This is of extreme importance): fresh yogurt, cold cereals, organic berries, green leaf salads with balsamic vinagrette dressing, orange juice and 7 kinds of iced and hot tea all day long and YOU would be happy and not think twice about ordering the same thing.
We would have ample time and perfect weather every morning to briskly climb a mountain before work.
Everyone would have free access to yoga classes every night.
Human bodies would be incapable of producing cellulite.
Mirrors would be outlawed that showed a reflection from the waist down.
There would be entire clothing stores devoted to each body type and size.
Magazines would not feature articles about weight loss, body improvement, or dessert recipes.
Models and actresses would come in all sizes.
There would be no reason why we would ever need to know our weight during our lifetime.
This would be the equivalent to freedom for me. This would be like John Lennon's vision in Imagine to me.
On My Planet
Grocery stores would only have the foods I want to eat on sale the day I want to eat them.
Food is never fried, or otherwise contaminated by visible grease, butter, or heavy oils.
There would be no bakeries, no candy stores, no pizza places, no fast food places.
Movie theaters would not have concession stands.
Restaurants would only serve my menus (This is of extreme importance): fresh yogurt, cold cereals, organic berries, green leaf salads with balsamic vinagrette dressing, orange juice and 7 kinds of iced and hot tea all day long and YOU would be happy and not think twice about ordering the same thing.
We would have ample time and perfect weather every morning to briskly climb a mountain before work.
Everyone would have free access to yoga classes every night.
Human bodies would be incapable of producing cellulite.
Mirrors would be outlawed that showed a reflection from the waist down.
There would be entire clothing stores devoted to each body type and size.
Magazines would not feature articles about weight loss, body improvement, or dessert recipes.
Models and actresses would come in all sizes.
There would be no reason why we would ever need to know our weight during our lifetime.
This would be the equivalent to freedom for me. This would be like John Lennon's vision in Imagine to me.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Wandering Child
Growing up on the edge of town, in a neighborhood tucked between cornfields and public housing, I spent a lot of time floating in and out of other peoples houses. Looking back, I feel like I was a wandering spirit, often quietly observing the patterns, sounds, behaviors and even smells of other families.
I have been trying to write a short story lately about that experience.
And a tangent has popped in my head about my relationship with food in this context.
I can remember how when I was in black homes, the smells and the heat from the kitchen would produce smokey warm fumes often bristling to the nose no matter where you were in the house. Sweet and spicy flavors, crispy and strong flavors, energizing and invigorating, that one would also imagine were filling and satisfying. The kitchens were bustling, like their homes, with more than one cook, throwing in food in stages, taking turns making sure things “got done”.
In the Vietnamese and Cambodian homes, I think of the mothers, with frying pans swinging in their hands, like martial arts chefs. Quickly rushing home and producing food within seconds where moments before, there was none. Noodles and sauce and fishy pungent odors quickly permeating the house. Unfamiliar fragrances that would push me, the little stringy blonde haired ghost, back onto the street as the family gathered for their quick stop meal.
For a few of my white friends, they had (what were in my admittedly midwestern and ethnocentric view) the classic "American" staples; these were the families that wouldn't live in our neighborhood long, their parents were graduate students, or were buying starter homes and would move to a better school in a year or two; their dinners were cooking in the oven, lasagna, chicken and rice, meat and potatoes. Perhaps bland at times, but ubiquitously balanced. I remember sitting quietly hoping for the dinner invitations that never came in those houses.
But for most of my white friends, those staples they were not there. Like me, we saw those mostly in sitcoms on our black and white 12 inch televisions. We were poor. The meals usually came from cans and frozen boxes. Or greasy fast food bags. With mothers that worked long hours and came home too tired. Or, didn't work, and were just, too tired.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I am learning how to cook again. For my children. For their smiles, and their warm happy bellies. I try. It is not always great.
But
I am a work in progress
Like my cooking.
I have been trying to write a short story lately about that experience.
And a tangent has popped in my head about my relationship with food in this context.
I can remember how when I was in black homes, the smells and the heat from the kitchen would produce smokey warm fumes often bristling to the nose no matter where you were in the house. Sweet and spicy flavors, crispy and strong flavors, energizing and invigorating, that one would also imagine were filling and satisfying. The kitchens were bustling, like their homes, with more than one cook, throwing in food in stages, taking turns making sure things “got done”.
In the Vietnamese and Cambodian homes, I think of the mothers, with frying pans swinging in their hands, like martial arts chefs. Quickly rushing home and producing food within seconds where moments before, there was none. Noodles and sauce and fishy pungent odors quickly permeating the house. Unfamiliar fragrances that would push me, the little stringy blonde haired ghost, back onto the street as the family gathered for their quick stop meal.
For a few of my white friends, they had (what were in my admittedly midwestern and ethnocentric view) the classic "American" staples; these were the families that wouldn't live in our neighborhood long, their parents were graduate students, or were buying starter homes and would move to a better school in a year or two; their dinners were cooking in the oven, lasagna, chicken and rice, meat and potatoes. Perhaps bland at times, but ubiquitously balanced. I remember sitting quietly hoping for the dinner invitations that never came in those houses.
But for most of my white friends, those staples they were not there. Like me, we saw those mostly in sitcoms on our black and white 12 inch televisions. We were poor. The meals usually came from cans and frozen boxes. Or greasy fast food bags. With mothers that worked long hours and came home too tired. Or, didn't work, and were just, too tired.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I am learning how to cook again. For my children. For their smiles, and their warm happy bellies. I try. It is not always great.
But
I am a work in progress
Like my cooking.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
The forest for the trees
The first meeting of EDA for CT has taken place tonight, while my feelings are fresh I wanted to record this. I feel:
1) proud of the individuals who came
2) enlightened and encouraged
3) a little overwhelmed, but not in a bad way! More like a wow... this really finally happened.. how do I keep it going?
4) incredibly connected and in awe of the power of talk
5) deeply touched by the story and inside power of each person who came
Each of us have been so controlled by food. Each of us is similarly seeking a freedom from this slave master. And each of them was willing to come out on a cold Sunday night to a strangers house and share their world and deepest fears with other strangers. Wow, that's brave.
1) proud of the individuals who came
2) enlightened and encouraged
3) a little overwhelmed, but not in a bad way! More like a wow... this really finally happened.. how do I keep it going?
4) incredibly connected and in awe of the power of talk
5) deeply touched by the story and inside power of each person who came
Each of us have been so controlled by food. Each of us is similarly seeking a freedom from this slave master. And each of them was willing to come out on a cold Sunday night to a strangers house and share their world and deepest fears with other strangers. Wow, that's brave.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
About these meetings
I am really excited to be organizing the first EDA meetings for CT. This assumes you have recieved information ELSEWHERE or I referred you to my blog after you contacted me.
I am not a therapist, I am in solid strong recovery and am motivated strongly to reach out to others and provide a safe place to meet and connect with others. Recovery can be very lonely, but it doesn't have to be. I was frustrated during my time in counseling that there was nothing like this for me. I commited to myself that once I was strong enough in my own recovery I would find a way to offer this kind of opportunity to others.
I will be helping facilitate it, but the goal is for each individual to find their voice and for the group to eventually guide itself. We will be using the meeting guidelines published by EDA which I will provide at the first meeting. I will always help with the meeting location and any logistical problems the group encounters. But remember, you own your recovery and your behavior!
EDA uses religious language in the 12 steps, each individual is free to interpret this as a higher presence or even their own internal source of guidance.
Anyone who is currently suffering from an eating disorder is free to attend. As the facilitator, I will be very clear that anybody who feels that food, eating or weight obsessions is something for which they want to receive help from peers in exploring is welcome to be with the group: This includes anorexia, bulimia and bingers/overeaters, and those "not otherwise specified"- (like me ya'll!) Sometimes this requires a stretch into zones that we are not familiar with, but trust me, there are commonalities and we can connect in deep and meaningful ways.
Let me say again how excited and proud I am of you, and how much I am looking forward to meeting you!
I am not a therapist, I am in solid strong recovery and am motivated strongly to reach out to others and provide a safe place to meet and connect with others. Recovery can be very lonely, but it doesn't have to be. I was frustrated during my time in counseling that there was nothing like this for me. I commited to myself that once I was strong enough in my own recovery I would find a way to offer this kind of opportunity to others.
I will be helping facilitate it, but the goal is for each individual to find their voice and for the group to eventually guide itself. We will be using the meeting guidelines published by EDA which I will provide at the first meeting. I will always help with the meeting location and any logistical problems the group encounters. But remember, you own your recovery and your behavior!
EDA uses religious language in the 12 steps, each individual is free to interpret this as a higher presence or even their own internal source of guidance.
Anyone who is currently suffering from an eating disorder is free to attend. As the facilitator, I will be very clear that anybody who feels that food, eating or weight obsessions is something for which they want to receive help from peers in exploring is welcome to be with the group: This includes anorexia, bulimia and bingers/overeaters, and those "not otherwise specified"- (like me ya'll!) Sometimes this requires a stretch into zones that we are not familiar with, but trust me, there are commonalities and we can connect in deep and meaningful ways.
Let me say again how excited and proud I am of you, and how much I am looking forward to meeting you!
Monday, February 2, 2009
A year from now
A year from now
I want to be me
I see myself and I am strong
smiling and proud
because I had the dignity and the grace to get through it all
and did not fall
I may have stumbled here and there
but picked myself up
and learned as I went along
and shooed the boogie men out of the shadows
and found the friends I had been missing all along
and I will know that I grew and became the woman I was meant to be
myself-Amy-me
But as someone recently said
no future tripping
I can not be her yet
there are puzzles to be unpuzzled
and crevasses to be plunged
and wounds to be slowly healed over
but at least I see where I want to go
and it is so nice to say
I want to run
to me
and my arms are wide open
------------
"The task we must set for ourselves is not to feel secure, but to be able to tolerate insecurity."
-- Erich Fromm
I want to be me
I see myself and I am strong
smiling and proud
because I had the dignity and the grace to get through it all
and did not fall
I may have stumbled here and there
but picked myself up
and learned as I went along
and shooed the boogie men out of the shadows
and found the friends I had been missing all along
and I will know that I grew and became the woman I was meant to be
myself-Amy-me
But as someone recently said
no future tripping
I can not be her yet
there are puzzles to be unpuzzled
and crevasses to be plunged
and wounds to be slowly healed over
but at least I see where I want to go
and it is so nice to say
I want to run
to me
and my arms are wide open
------------
"The task we must set for ourselves is not to feel secure, but to be able to tolerate insecurity."
-- Erich Fromm
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