Recovery Manifesto

Your body is really nothing more than a pair of shoes.

They start out spotless, like a blank canvas.

They carry you from place to place.

After a time they come out with scuffs, dirt and cuts.

The stories they would tell if only they could talk.

 

I will stop trying to beat an unbeatable system.

You cannot argue with science and biology, as much as you try.

Your body will not thrive on inadequate nutrition just because you want it to.

You feed things you care about, your pets, plants, etc.

This should include yourself as well.

 

I acknowledge there is no room for shame.

Shame says “I am bad”.

I will not beat myself up for being human.

I am human, and will embrace the imperfections that come with it.

 

There is no guilt for having to send for a search party,

Especially when it looks like motivation and hunger cues ran off again holding hands.

Asking for help is not a sign of weakness.

It takes strength to realize you cannot do this all on your own.

I will trust my OP team, when I feel like I can’t trust my own thoughts.

I will not believe everything I think.

 

Every body tells a story,

At times it may seem like a tragic love story, or even a fantasy that you only dream about happy endings.

Recovery Record showing up for the third time, asking the same question, “Are you going to eat today?”

The teeth marks on the back of my hand reading like braille, trying to remind me why I started.

 

Exercise is optional, eating is not.

I accept that exercising is not like a carpet.

Spot treatment does not work.

I acknowledge that my self-confidence should never be based on what I’ve eaten.

What I’ve eaten should never be determined on how I’ve exercised.

How I’ve exercised should be focused on body kindness and recovery.

 

If muscles are just the result of repeated heavy lifting, maybe I’m sore from figuring out where this self-hatred should fit.

Moving this self-hatred again, like I’m rearranging furniture.

Remembering that I don’t want it, but somehow feeling its necessity, as if it is my license to drive my own body.

Getting pulled over for something ED deems illegal, but showing my license as proof of, “don’t worry, I still feel entirely inadequate and inferior.”

I will realize that my body is mine, and I don’t owe anything to anyone. It may still feel like I owe something to others, but I will learn to not pay for the space I take up in apologies or miles.

 

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Why I Haven’t, Won’t, and Don’t Plan on Keeping my Eating Disorder from my Little Sister.

Involving family in your recovery is probably a good idea if it is beneficial, but what if that family is your little sister who is 12 years younger than you? Is that too young to involve your sister in your eating disorder and your recovery?

I didn’t keep the fact that I have an eating disorder secret while in recovery.

My sister came with me the day I was admitted, she came to two of my family weekends, and after meals she would sometimes accompany me to the bathroom, where we would sing songs and laugh.

Why would I involve my 12 year old sister in something that could be so raw and vulnerable you might ask.

Her life currently consists of pointe, competitions, and teaching ballet to little kids.

She could very well be in my shoes in a few short years and is susceptible to also struggling with an eating disorder.

If there is the possibility that she could struggle, I want to be honest and open with her about my struggles so she can acknowledge it before it consumes her. That doesn’t mean she won’t hide it, or is sheltered from it, but knowing that it is okay to talk about it and seek help if her eating or thought process becomes disordered.

I reassure her that eating when you are hungry is great. That it is necessary to eat before and/or after practice. That there isn’t “good” or “bad” foods, that regardless if our mom eats, or what she eats, we need to eat and be okay with it. When your sister makes comments like, “Mom can eat whatever she wants, and always stays so tiny.” You know it is crucial to reinforce the thoughts that it doesn’t matter and you need to fuel your body.

Rather than silently suffering for years like I did, and denying I ever had a problem, I want her to be able to speak up, allow me to help, and attempt to nip it in the bud before it overgrows inside of her.

That is why I choose to involve my little sister in something that could be considered taboo or shameful. I want my sister to realize there is not guilt or shame in suffering, and being open with your struggles, and an eating disorder is nothing to be ashamed of or silent about.

Ella and the Non Verbal Child

Friends of mine typically know two things about me: I have a three legged dog, and my typical, daily extreme dislike of people.
Today was different, since it was raining Ella and I didn’t do our normal routine of going to the dog park. Instead, I spent over an hour in That Pet Place. The look of fear I get from some people due to the fact that Ella is a German Sheperd kills me. She is the sweetest baby ever, but yet people still avoid the two of us, as if somehow Ella is going to viciously go after them and their small children.


I met a mom and her two kids, one of her daughters has nonverbal autism, seizures, and cerebral palsy. Seeing that Ella had three legs, the mom made a statement of her daughter and Ella both having disabilities.


The daughter, Bri, quickly fell in love with Ella. She copied Ella by panting with her tongue out, squealed, held Ella’s tail, pet her ears, and shook with excitement when Ella soaked her face with kisses.

Was I scared that Bri would reach for Ella and was going to fall out of her wheelchair onto the floor?

No….. I was terrified.

Image may contain: one or more people and dog

I knew my dog better than anybody in that store, and knew nothing would happen. I could feel my anxiety rising, I hated being out, in stores, around people and my very vocal dog for any amount of time. I lived for the fact that I could run in and out of stores by the time most parents got their kids out of their car seat.


This family and I walked around the store for about an hour, letting the other daughter walk Ella, while we trailed behind. Listening to the excited squeals coming from both Ella and Bri. This was an amazing rainy Saturday, that warmed my heart as I watched this little girl shake, squeal, laugh and reach for Ella out of pure joy.

This was the Saturday that absolutely melted my heart.

Update

Hello All!!

I have been completely MIA for a while.

Life has been crazy, but also crazy great.

I plan on starting blogging again, but quick update.

 

I received two promotions at my job, so I am not a Biochemist Scientist specializing in HPLC work.

I am in the process of becoming a foster parent, and am now on the hunt for a bigger place.

I also began seeing a nutritionist because I have been struggling with ED again, and I really like her.

 

Overall, life is going really great!

 

Trust the Process

xoxoxoxo

Invalidating Before and After

 

With Eating Disorder Awareness week slowly but surely creeping up, there has been something that has really been bothering me.

 

The fucking before and after pictures.

 

I realize, that for some, they can be helpful. You can see how far people have come, the weight they have put on, etc.

 

For some though, it is a complete and total nightmare. Can we quit glamorizing the before and after pictures??! YOU DO NOT HAVE TO LOOK LIKE THOSE PICTURES TO BE WORTHY OF RECOVERY.

 

YOUR WEIGHT DOES NOT INVALIDATE YOUR NEED FOR HELP!

 

I was one of those people who saw emaciated people and wished to look like that. I wanted so badly to be tiny like “those girls”. That was also my justification for not needing treatment. “I wasn’t THAT small.” “I didn’t look like THAT.” So in my mind, it made me less worthy of recovery.

 

As if somehow, my weight had a direct correlation on the amount of pain and suffering I had gone through.

 

Those before and after pictures do nothing but add to the stigma of how you are “supposed to look”

 

Hungry *Warning: calorie/carb counting*

Why, why don’t I want to eat? I’m hungry, I know I need to, but I just don’t want to. Nothing sounds appealing. My stomach is growling though.

I take out my phone and go to My Fitness Pal; I type in the Larabar I ate, considering it “breakfast”, but who really knows what it is, and does it even matter?

I’m hungry, but I feel like I just ate. Maybe I’ll drink a little water. No, a lot of water.

I eye the speckled banana on my desk and type it in, considering that “lunch”. It immediately calculates the calories, the 19 g of sugar and the 30 g of carbs.

I’m hungry, but not that hungry. Not 30g of carbs hungry. Not 19g of sugar hungry.

Is it fear? Am I worried about foster care? Am I afraid I’m gonna gain weight?

Why am I afraid of carbs? What has happened lately to set me into this cycle?

It doesn’t make sense. It never makes sense.

I’m hungry, and now I’m out of water.

Meryl Streep at the Golden Globes

 I sat at work, at 5:30 in the morning, and saw my sister had shared this video. As I watched it, I just began to become more and more enraged.

Money or not, that should not dictate our character.

There is a double standard, not only from a political standpoint, but also gender. It is okay for Kanye to run his mouth in public in support of a political leader, and nobody bats an eye. Yet when a well respected woman states her opinion the entire world goes freaking out.

Yes, Meryl Streep may have said that she was a normal person, but what is “normal”?

I think what she meant, is even though she has money and is well off, she is not a xenophobic, homophobic, misogynist pig. Her money, worth, fame, is something she worked for, and she uses it in a productive way, much like Angelina Jolie. She doesn’t let it dictate her behavior or morals.

Not to mention the white privilege this reporter is showing. A blonde, attractive, white woman, running her mouth with no consequences. That, sister, is white, thin privilege.

This was not one of Kanye’s concerts, that you had to pay for in order to listen to his political support. This was an award ceremony, if you will, of which Meryl Streep had been awarded an honor, and took her time to make a speech using her opinions! If this had been a middle aged white male supporting Trump. Nobody would have said Shit.

Exploded Recovery

Lately, my recovery has seemed to just have exploded.

I am not saying this is a happy go lucky, I’m cured, kinda scenario.

On the contrary, I do not eat breakfast every day. I don’t eat 6x a day and track my meal plan. I haven’t measured out my food in a long time. And hell, sometimes I have a bowl of cereal for dinner.

What I am saying though, is that I no longer turn down food based on their calories or power and fear they have over me.

I have eaten cookies for breakfast, but had a salad for lunch, but those two are no longer connected in my mind. I eat what I want, when I want. If I just ate a half hour ago, and my stomach is growling, I drink some water, and pull out a larabar.

I still exercise, and the voice is still there, but it is no longer the loud screaming, jagged tooth beast demanding my every action. It is now like a snide child who hasn’t gotten it’s way and makes jabs when it can, “I mean, you did just exercise, you probably shouldn’t have breakfast.” “Or,” I’d retort back, “I have some awesome avocado toast waiting with my name on it.” It doesn’t always make the voice go away, and I don’t always make the correct choice, but I do the next right thing.

That also doesn’t mean that my body image is all rainbows and sunshine every day, but I am learning to accept my body and realize that restricting won’t do me any good, and eating one cookie won’t hurt me.

I may still turn food down, but it is because I genuinely don’t want it. Not because my Eating Disorder doesn’t want me to have it.

Do what you can, even if it means a snack! Feel free to reach out!

Young & Twenty

BEING Young & Twenty Submission • Stephanie

 

Yay!! Look guys!!! This makes me happy 🙂

 

capture7

Brock Turner, Trump, Hilary, Obama, and the Blame Game

It isn’t so much a matter of loving one candidate and hating the other.

It isn’t hating someone who has different beliefs than you.

What it is, is white privilege, double standards, and blaming others.

 

If Obama had half of the accusations that Trump had against him, Obama would have not been allowed to pursue the presidency.

If a black man has numerous women accusing him of sexual assault he would have been arrested.

If a black man had children from various women he would be a pimp.

It is the fact that Brock Turner got a slap on the wrist, Trump became president, and blacks are fearing for their life.

 

At the same time it is our job to take these results and do something productive. If you do not agree with what is going on, change it for the better. The way you handle a situation has a huge influence on the outcome. Burning an American flag, violently protesting, and hurting others isn’t making Trump look bad, or Hilary look good. It is making the individual look like a close minded fool.

The students who assaulted and harassed a female, or claimed they could “grab her by the pussy”, because our president-elect seems to advocate for that, is ridiculous. You are responsible for your actions. You cannot blame someone else for how you are acting.

We are not stuck in our terrible twos, we cannot blame a person we have never met on our behaviors, but nor do we have to condone his sexist, racist, misogynist behavior neither.