Play to Your Strengths

This weekend, I journeyed up to Liverpool, NY, to visit with the hearts and minds behind Ophelia’s Place (http://opheliasplace.org/) and their newest business that helps to foot the non-profit’s bill, Café at 407. As I’ve mentioned before, I long to create a community space where creativity, community, love, and spirit are nourished. Ophelia’s Place certainly does that! And I want to learn from the best.

With a front coffee/café area homey enough to make you want to stay and sip mocha for a week and a private room anyone in the nearby area would want to rent, Café at 407 welcomes the community into a space built for conversation. “Conversation about what?” some might ask. According to founder Mary Ellen Clausen, Café at 407 provides a venue to move discussions about calories and “good” and “bad” food choices toward true, authentic sharing about loving oneself and body.

I was able to take part in the annual fashion show Ophelia’s Place puts on as a fundraiser each year. It thrilled me to see models of all shapes and sizes take the stage, along with looks from superb local designer Cheryl Geiger (http://cherylgcollection.com/ - AMAZING!) as well as the local thrift store. Beauty is everywhere, and this show celebrated that.

I took the brief weekend trip to investigate what it takes to put on an event like the fashion show and to see how Ophelia’s Place operates in person. I was truly impressed. Ophelia’s Place is the non-profit foundation behind the physical space of Café at 407. Eating disorder recovery support groups meet there during the week, in the community room and in a special area in back. Comfy chairs, warm colors, quotes painted on the walls, and inviting and accessible recovery information speak the message of hope and healing loud and clear while welcoming people of all backgrounds. The fabulous food doesn’t hurt, either!

Behind the café, offices and additional rooms have been decorated and designated for therapeutic and administrative purposes. Ophelia’s Place partners with The Nutrition Clinic of Elmira, NY, (http://www.solstonecenter.com/) to provide nutritional counseling and support groups to those in need of professional recovery resources. The Nutrition Clinic itself offers unique care for people in transition from hospitalization to every-day life. By working together, both organizations are able to reach more people in the places where they need help.

I am truly amazed at what Mary Ellen Clausen and a bevy of other contributors have built, and this trip definitely gave me some perspective about what I want. The main thing I learned from the team that makes Ophelia’s Place so strong:

Play to your strengths.

This is one of many lessons from this weekend. Can I be a Mary Ellen Clausen, networking and planning and executing and go-go-going? No. But can I be Michelle Cowan and make things happen? Yes.

I was reminded of my personal stamina and the pace at which I like to operate. One of the other successful women there pointed out the disparity between the energies of some of the people around and her own. I couldn’t help but commiserate. We both get tired. We both want to get back to the creative stuff and out of the business end. We can make things happen and start balls rolling. We can network and travel and do anything necessary to make a splash in the world, but we’re exhausted at the end of it! We want to enjoy life, not live in a continual stress bubble. What is, for me, a strenuous pace is nothing to some other people. The key is knowing myself.

By seeing the work at Ophelia’s Place, I understand what I want a little better. I want to share my creative fruits with the world, and I want that sharing to stimulate others to create and connect. I don’t have to have a physical space for that yet—even though I hope to have one someday.

I can commit to fleshing out my online presence and selling a few songs. I have other ideas and ways to connect in mind, but I definitely see where my vision is headed. If I do open a café or community center of some sort, it will have a slightly broader scope than eating disorders alone. It will center around healthy body image, authentic living, community, and love.

I want to follow the “change the conversation” message of Ophelia’s Place. Wherever I am, I can create that space I envision. For now, I am gathering information on how different powerful people have grown their businesses and brought their ideas to fruition. I’m learning so much from the people I’m talking to, and I’m gaining a new appreciation for my creative and organizational skills. When I choose to put them into practice (and I emphasize that it is a choice utilization on my part), things happen—more than things, miracles.

For now, I’m getting some rest from a slightly harrowing but incredibly enlightening trip to and from New York, and I’m focusing on my own best qualities. How can I bring what I have into the world? And where do I need to ask for help?

I could leave off there, but that leads me into another lesson learned. Ophelia’s Place takes a village to thrive. Countless volunteers showed up for this event, and Mary Ellen works with a team to guide, direct, and grow Ophelia’s Place. She certainly has the vision and the powers of coordination, but others flesh out those visions with their unique blends of creative, logistical, and emotional talents.

I often forget that my weaknesses can be supplemented by the strengths of others. I don’t excel in every area, but I can find people who would love to give of themselves in ways I never could.

So, I continue to rest, evaluate what I have to offer, and search for comrades. Not a bad way to start the week!

Feels Like Falling

As I watch myself back on the video I am including in this entry, I am reminded of just how awkward watching myself perform is. I started to try to extract the audio so that I could avoid posting the visuals but ultimately decided that it wouldn't be worth the effort. Other people watch me perform all the time; I figure you can take it. But it's odd to see myself from another the other side of the stage.

Anyway, this song, "Falling," was written over a span of a few years. First, I only completed a chorus, until I forced myself to finish out a couple of verses and a bridge about a year and a half ago. I always disliked those verses. Parts of them were enjoyable, but as a whole, they were rather disappointing and, ultimately, annoying. I threw the song in the closet, never to be revisited. It was too painful to play the fun little chorus and then have to endure the awkward stanzas in between.

Nonetheless, the chorus stayed in my head, despite what I think is a soundly unpoetic hook. "Falling into a hole"? Really? But it turns out that that phrase describes exactly what I want it to describe. And this week, I revisited those verses and cleaned them up. Now, the song expresses something special, with pieces written over two years ago combined with what I feel today.

At first, I thought the song was about those moments in life when I feel like giving over to the eating disorder, when I want to let all of my neuroses, depression, and anything else "diseased" take over. I want to sink into bingeing or starving or reclusiveness during those times. The song seemed to center around those periods and the fear, sadness, and anxiety that accompanies them.

Over the years, however, I have observed that many times when I have the feelings I just described, I am not surrendering into the eating disorder. I am surrendering to my feelings. The song is about giving over to something entirely different. It's about a release that leads to something positive and healthy if I allow it to happen.

Participating in eating disorder behaviors is actually not anxiety-provoking at all. It's the feelings that surround it that send me into a tailspin, the feelings that make me turn to the behaviors, the feelings of guilt after I let my eating disorder run wild. All of those emotions cause fear. Disordered behaviors mask emotion and authentic truth.

The most potent feelings of helplessness I've ever experienced have been related to the moments when I allow myself to feel instead of participate in my eating disorder. It's overwhelming to feel incredibly sad, confused, or lonely. The intensity of my need for alone time frightens me at times and feels dangerous, even though it may ultimately be healthy.

Now, I've learned that it's okay to sink now and then into despair. I always reemerge. It's okay to spend introspective time alone for long stretches. Likewise, it's perfectly fine to dismiss all of my obsessive thoughts and do FUN things, even when there are certain tasks I feel I HAVE to accomplish. It's okay to go out and waste time alone or with others, even when laundry or other obligations loom. It's okay to come home from work and relax instead of pay my bills immediately.

Nonetheless, all of the "necessary" tasks generally need to be completed, and knowing this can result in incredible anxiety and indecisiveness. It's hard to let myself be. But it's necessary. It's essential to let go of everything sometimes and allow life to flow through me. I may cry, I may laugh, I may shut the blinds for a while and revel in solitude. The more I can associate these activities with things other than the eating disorder, the easier it is to do them without guilt. I can enjoy myself without food (even though I can also enjoy myself with it). I can feel sad and not try to shove it away with a binge or an eight mile run.

I can surrender to my intuition and do what I feel instead of what I think I should do. The release is scary sometimes and feels like falling without a net.

Those are the thoughts for today, accompanied by "Falling," the little song I'd like to share with you today. All my best ~

Someone Else Entirely

I once laughed at a suggestion I read in a self-help book: For one day, pretend you do not have an eating disorder. Imagine a person other than yourself, who can be anything except eating disordered, and be her for a single day.

It’s not that this seemed ludicrous—just a bit silly. Ah, those were back in the days before I realized the immense fun of being silly and ridiculous. Now, I’ve set ridiculousness as a daily goal (mostly because it’s one I know that I can easily achieve).

Anyway, I have never completely done this (pretend to be an entirely different person for a day). I have followed this practice for a few hours at a time, especially for activities I may not be too excited about. Imagining myself as someone different can certainly spice things up. And when necessary errands seem unbearably dull, I’ll sometimes apply eccentric make-up and saunter through the aisles at Wal-mart as a person who does things I never would.

Those are all very short-term applications, though. Today, I discovered the power of asserting myself as a different person for an entire day.

I did not create a whole new persona; I simply decided to pretend that a couple of my values had shifted. I decided that, just for today, I am not going to be a person who cares about exercising. Instead, I’m a person who cares passionately about music. I didn’t specify how I related to my eating disorder or how I would spend my time. I just decided to behave as I felt I would if I truly cared about music much more than exercising or maintaining a perfect body.

Freedom. Freedom is the experience. And you know what I also found? This person who values music above exercise—she is the real me. I am my dreams. I do value music. It’s no wonder that I resent the times when I force myself to exercise when I would rather play music. I know what I would prefer; I know what is truly important to me.

This isn’t to say I should stop exercising entirely. For today, however, I did practice a song instead of working out before heading to the office. I also came home and spent a good deal of time working on some other music, practicing and finishing up a new song, instead of doing anything else. Valuing music highly also changed my orientation toward all the to-dos that often nag me when I get home. Today, I was able to say, “No, I do not value those things right now. I value music, and that is what I’m going to do. There is time for you later.” Deciding to maintain this mentality for an entire day helped me face any obstacle that got in my way. I knew my primary value and acted on it each time I was faced with a choice between acting out of love for music or a preoccupation with appearances.

Life, ideally, balances itself out between the tasks we have to do to survive in the world, good health, relationships, and self-expression. Sometimes, I get all out of whack. It isn’t that I shouldn't value exercise. Biking and walking are fun. I enjoy activity, no doubt. But I never want to think that one enjoyable (or unenjoyable) thing defines me. If I define myself according to a single measure, life becomes pure drudgery, and I become an awfully boring specimen.

I proved to myself that I can live a day without exercise as a crutch. I let myself flow and shifted my priorities. This shift didn’t change most of my activity for the day, but the mental realignment echoed through me. I felt powerful and true to myself. I took care of myself and my true desires. There have been plenty of stretches in my life when exercise didn’t concern me, and this day reminded me of what it feels like to live without that burden. This is certainly something I thought I would have down pat by now, but today revealed that I still have a huge potential to learn and grow in this area. Struggles ebb and flow.

I highly suggest pretending to be someone else for a day. You may discover new ways of approaching the world or learn that you can do things you fear and not crumble. Or, in being someone else, you may come face to face with who you really are.

The Joy of Replacing Bingeing

May I say how good it feels simply to come home and NOT BINGE? Sometimes, I have to be reminded of this simple joy. Note that I did not say “come home, exercise, and not binge” or “come home, accomplish a dozen things, and not binge.” I forget that I can choose not to binge and then waste my time in some more (or less) creative fashion. No need to work out every second of the day or complete a single goal I’ve set. I don’t have to jump through hoops in order to ensure sane eating.

The sun is shining, and I feel good. I don’t have to exercise compulsively, I don’t have to binge, and, moreover, I don’t have to do a single thing. Of course, there are certain things it would behoove me to do, but no one will force me to pay my rent or clean my bathroom. I choose to do those things because they benefit my life. In the same way, I can choose to do nothing or even to do things that impact my life negatively. The main thing is that there are a million different ways of doing things, and most, if not all, of them are not “wrong.”

I want to try these different ways of living. I have reckoned a slower, softer side of me these past few days, reminding myself that I can take it slow and still get hungry. I can still accomplish important things, too, and stay in touch with people I love. The main thing preventing me from allowing a slower drift through life is mistrust in myself. I imagine that if I don’t do everything NOW, I may not do it all. But really, I have proven my responsibility, creativity, and capability time after time. Now is the moment to trust the universe and me.

I’ve seen remarkable things happen in the last couple of days. I have taken pleasure in the ways lives of people I know have intersected. They see miracles in their life, and it’s nice to talk about it with them. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m the only one who appreciates such little miracles. But other people do see it and love it as much as I do. And wonderfully, simply by observing or listening to the occurrences in their lives and then discussing them, I become a part of that miracle. It can extend to me, and I can connect with others, even help them.

Observation. It’s an important element of my non-binge time. I can sit and simply observe the world. That action never seems to have much worth until I look back at the convergence of all the things I’ve learned by observing alongside my association with others and things I read. Serendipity is everywhere. Every piece of living is worthwhile.

Anyhow, I mostly just wanted to share the simple joy of a gal in recovery, something I somehow stopped believing at some point during my disorder: I can eat a healthful amount (i.e., not binge and not restrict), abstain from exercise, and still get hungry later. My body really does take care of things! Added bonus: I experience more of life.

Sure, there are many things about food I want to explore and lots of ways I want to push my body in an energetic way. So many desserts, vegetables, mountains, and roads! But how much more is there if I will simply slow down…

Ah, Weight - My Least Favorite Subject...

The company I work for kicked off a new weight loss program/competition today. What I heard from those who attended the kick-off meeting sounds mostly positive. This program appears to promote a healthy lifestyle rather than a flash-in-the-pan diet. Unfortunately, I still sense a clear focus on good vs. bad foods and a pressure to exercise that can turn unhealthy. Plus, the whole idea of competing to lose weight unnerves me. Such pressure, along with unknown, intangible standards of success!

Every body is different. Some people will be larger than others. Any time a program involves setting goal weights, etc., I get a bit leery. Yes, I understand that goals help us work toward achieving what we desire, but how does one determine his or her ideal weight other than by simply eating when hungry/stopping when full for an extended period of time? Sure, you can probably come up with a sensible 25 pound range or something, but… Ugh, the whole thing makes me nauseous.

I haven’t weighed myself in almost four years, and I have never missed it. Sure, it makes coming up with my current weight tough when I’m asked for it on driver’s license or other identification forms, but I usually just guess at something that seems right. I wouldn’t trade my peace of mind for anything. I refuse to measure myself according to a number like that.

When I last weighed myself (a few months after embarking on a new kind of recovery plan), I was much larger than I am now. Because of a doctor’s slip-up a couple of years ago, I do have some idea of where I stand weight-wise although I cannot remember the exact number she told me. Of course, as I bring that up, I have to tell the entire tale of that slip-up:

The doctor noticed that I had lost some weight over the year prior and wanted to congratulate me. I specifically noted my history of eating disorders on my paperwork, but apparently, she chose to ignore that. I’m grateful for the sentiment, I guess, but I didn’t really need to lose weight in the first place. The slight weight loss was simply due to consistently not bingeing and riding my bike a bit more. My question is: Why did no one congratulate me for gaining weight at times when that was necessary?

Anyway, the focus on weight and the notion that there is a “right” one concerns me. I long to stand up in my workplace and yell, “I hate diets!” I do. But yet, I am never sure how much to expose in the workplace. I still struggle some with food and exercise, and that has always held me back in terms of forthright participation in ED activism. Ultimately, though, who says I have to have “perfect” recovery before I can speak out? Me. I’m the only one.

I’m afraid that I will relapse and look like a fool if I am too open about my passion for eating disorder recovery. I’m afraid people will say, “It seems like she still has an eating disorder.” Right now, I want to ditch that fear. No one can take away the progress I have made. I will always have farther to go. I will always want to do better. But I can accept where I am right now and acknowledge how far I’ve come with a hardy pat on the back.

For anyone out there, you’ve come so far! Don’t hide it. Speak out. We’ll see if I’m able to in coming weeks. I have no idea how this workplace competition will affect me, but already, it makes me want to speak out and tell the story of body image from my perspective. More will be revealed…

Recovery Is Real Website

I have been working on and off (mostly off) on a website showcasing the blogs of people who have recovered from eating disorders. It will possibly be expanded to showcase stories of such individuals and the vibrant lives they live, but for now, I'm pretty much just compiling a list of bloggers who have recovered. I want to show people that it is possible and that anyone, no matter how deep the suffering, can go on to do amazing things.

The blogs do not have to be about eating or body-related issues. They simply have to be written by someone who has recovered from an eating disorder of any kind.

If you are interested in helping with this effort or know of some blogs I could use, please contact me. Thanks and well wishes!

Team in Training Memories

Ah, Team in Training... Let's return to the spring of 2003, when I had just moved back to Texas from an internship in Florida, and one of my two new roommates, Jenny, talked me into training with her for the Capital of Texas Triathlon in Austin, TX. At the time, I bingeing heavily and regularly; however, I had just switched my major to English and felt more positive about completing college than ever. I was beginning to make decisions based on my own interests, a novel thing for me as I was only then starting to differentiate between my true interests and the things I was "supposed" to be interested in for whatever reason.

What's more, I had proved through my full-time working internship that I could, in fact, complete difficult tasks and structure my own life somewhat. I was a functional ED sufferer on a VERY bumpy path to recovery. In fact, I did not believe in recovery at that point. I didn't believe in very much at all. But for some reason, I said yes to Jenny and decided to train.

Finishing was my only goal. I knew I could no longer put up the blistering running times I had in high school, and somehow, I had reached a point of acceptance. It must be said, for this is no small factor for me and the way I view fitness, body size, and recovery, that I was considerably heavier at the time of this training and racing than I am now. My weight stayed fairly consistent at this point; I suppose my body had learned my regular starvation/binge cycle. Nonetheless, I knew I was larger than our society's ideal. But after only a few weeks of training, I learned to love my body again. Only at age 20 did I truly begin to explore and appreciate my body, just as it was.

Even at my heightened weight, I raced faster than most people on our team. I knew it and harbored a special pride in it. I can affirm without hesitation that, despite the undeniable insanity of the bingeing, I was in the best shape of my life, aside from high school. Because of this experience, I am certain that body size does not directly indicate a person's fitness level or athletic ability. One of many, many lessons in not judging a book by its cover.

As for other lessons, Team in Training sustained me socially. Even though I made no close friends on the team, I at least gained surface-level friends. TnT events and training meetings provided me a place to go when I might otherwise have been bingeing or sinking into isolation. I didn't realize the importance of this structure at the time, but looking back, I can see how the training and fundraising gave me motivation beyond myself, kept me going to class, and offered structure to the chaos that was my existence.

As I wrote fundraising letters and people responded, I realized how many people in my life truly cared, not just about fighting blood cancer, but about me. I also received numerous personal stories from people who had survived or suffered with or knew someone who had cancer and met many who had participated in similar programs. I felt a positive connection to the world, a world that I otherwise classified as bleak, selfish, and unfeeling. I didn't recognize the window that was being opened at the time. Caring about others and feeling good about myself = a MAJOR breakthrough.

My first Team in Training experience came at a crucial juncture. I was making choices to finish school, to be responsible, to be honest, to have relationships with others, to go to class, to be involved in life at least somewhat. My living quarters were no longer a disaster area. I could face myself and learned to love myself just as I was. Even in a funk, I could get up and go to a fundraising event. I learned about my body and what felt good and what felt bad.

In any case, I hope this next Team in Training experience will prove even more impactful. I hope to be more mindful than last time of all the fabulous benefits involvement with this program affords. I can't wait to meet the honored hero I will be racing for, to start raising money, and to spread the word.

Significant Reflections ~

Back in 2003, having a fundraising website was almost unheard of. Now, it's a requisite! Feel free to visit mine at http://pages.teamintraining.org/txg/lstri09/mcowan to read more or donate funds. Believe me, even a couple of bucks helps!

Let's hope I swallow less drainage water during the swim. Jenny and I both thought we were going to die, not of exhaustion, but of some kind of poisoning, after the last race. The combo of rain runoff and Powerbar gels just doesn't work with post-triathlon fajitas... Ugh... I'll know better this time.

I also recall the severe cottonmouth experience during a 3.5-hour bicycle road ride just south of Lubbock. Instead of mixing Gatorade with water, I had the brilliant idea to buy Propel Fitness Water. Never again! Not as much energy as the Gatorade/water mix and twenty times the stuffy mouth. I couldn't even talk afterward! Craziness. Absolute craziness.

I'll never forget my long swims in the University pool with its convenient removable top or the incredible rides in Ransom Canyon. The triathlon also spurred consistent riding around the Canyon Lakes for the rest of my college career. I'll never forget riding my regular Canyon Lake trail through the Windmill museum and beside the Joyland Amusement Park, taking pictures the week of my college graduation. Patterns and structure I set for myself while participating in Team in Training stuck with me throughout school and into the recovery I experienced in 2005.

There are deep reasons why I love physical activity. I love the meditative mood it puts me in, the removal from all else going on in my life. I adore being outside and flowing somehow with nature or taking control and tackling tough obstacles and hills on my bike. And there are the memories, the memories that bubble up to join me each time I get on the road or take to the pool. Today, I get to create more.

Yes, I'm racing to find a cure, I'm racing for those suffering with blood cancers, but I'm also racing for myself and anyone else who is trying to find his or her way out of other illnesses and disorders...or disorder in general. I truly love that girl who raced her heart out in Austin in 2003. She didn't know she'd be here in five years; she didn't believe life could be this happy. I'm glad I proved her wrong.

Admitting the Truth

When I sit down to eat, I sit down with myself. It has been a long time since I had a bowl of cereal - a simple concoction of grains and milk, maybe some fruit or cinnamon added for pizzazz. I just finished eating one. Delicious. I was hungry.

For months, I've been attempting to sate this hunger within, a hunger fueled by long bike rides, walks, and all my daily energy expenditures, with fruit and energy bars. I eat more than four or five times per day easily. I eat all the things I feel comfortable with. But it's never enough. I don't WANT to eat the things that will help me sustain my weight. I don't WANT the high-fat and/or high-calorie foods I've long avoided. But in order to survive, I have to start asking myself if I should try these foods I don't want, just to see if I like them enough to reintroduce them to my diet.

I'm living on the teetering edge, it seems. That's how I feel. My mother commented this weekend that I was looking thin. She asked if I was doing anything about it. I told her, honestly this time (as opposed to many years ago when I never really tried), that I was working on eating more, that I am working on eating until I am satisfied. The only difficulty with this lately is that I never feel satisfied. I want so much more than is normal. And I believe this is because I am underweight. Of course, my mom is the only one with guts enough to say it aloud, perhaps because she's one of the few who understand the havoc this disorder can wreak. That is why, instead of doubting her (For who can help but doubt the over-protectiveness that comes with being a mom?), I'm believing her.

Admitting this now scares me. I want to be a normal weight. I know that the thoughts about food and the focus on food diminish when I eat enough and reach a healthy weight. But I have yet to fully step over the food hurdle. I have broken through with many fear foods in the last year. But it's time for more. I long for FULL recovery, and that takes "risky" moves sometimes.

Right now, I'm just below where I want to be weight and diet-wise. Notice that I said, "where I WANT to be." It's no longer about where I NEED to be. I have no answers to the question of where I should or need to be. I am not at a dangerous weight or doing anything monumentally perilous with food. Where I need to be is with my healthy desires. I am wise enough to know what is best. I believe that. I get more and more in touch with that part of me every day.

Let me outline the main points of this difficulty:
1) I am underweight.
2) I think I would be more beautiful/healthier/able to think more clearly if I were at a higher weight.
3) I must eat more in order to get to that higher weight.
4) I must be willing to eat foods that I have some anxiety toward in order to consume enough calories to gain weight.
5) I am still afraid of those foods.
6) I still have some worries about actually being bigger and staying that way (loss of power, loss of "special-ness").

So there it is, laid out as simple as day. My goal is to think more clearly and feel better. How does that happen? Gain weight. How does that happen? Eat enough. How does that happen? I must be willing to eat until I am actually SATISFIED - and this includes eating foods I am uncomfortable with while trusting myself to know when to stop eating.

I also have to realize that I am special without this eating disorder and powerful without being thin. I am unique and strong in and of myself, regardless of outside markers.

I want the food obsession to end. And until my body knows it is out of a physical danger zone, I will naturally, biologically focus on food. It's time to end this!

In light of my new goals, changes have to be made. I have made so much progress over the past decade, especially in the past four years, with this eating disorder. I must let go of it as an obsession to make room for the other things that wish to occupy my mind, like music, writing, friends, and general exploration of life. Right now, I tire myself out, and all I can think of is consuming food and then expending the energy I take in.

I have moved. I'm settled in, both in my new physical home and in recovery. It's time to release control.

This is not as simple as eating more. Or maybe it is that simple, but it's still not easy. It means letting down strongholds I have built up that dictate when I will eat, what kind of food, in what location, in addition to how much. It also ties into notions of my body and if I am willing to release the thin, childlike one I have for one more appropriate for my age and stature. I wouldn't mind looking more like a woman than a girl, would I?

Society approves of my current weight. I am no thinner than a typical movie actress. But I am thinner than I feel is optimal. I can tell. I hate looking in the mirror and thinking, "I look like a high schooler." No. I want the strong, sufficient woman on the inside to shine through on the outside. More food would give me the energy and appearance to do that.

So I am also bucking society. I have to do what is right for me. It means resting more and listening to my body, trusting that it knows how to take care of itself. I can enjoy food while not overindulging or restricting all the time. I don't have to be a tiny size to be loved or successful. I will find success that is not based on superficial things. And I will be focused and sharp enough to pursue my dreams. Food will not distract me from my goals.

Creative expression - musically and in my writing. Helping others with eating disorders or depression. Loving those around me. All of these are worthy goals. And I want the stamina to achieve them. I still want to ride my bike and rock climb and walk and swim and do all the active things I do. I have made huge strides in putting exercise in its place. Now, it's time to see what lies beneath my resistance to new foods. It's time to release control. It's time to let my body be my body as I let myself be me.

All these things seem like Eating Disorder Recovery 101 to me. But sometimes I have to work my way around, through all the abstract concepts and underlying factors in my eating disorder to get back to the plain truth: How I look and what I eat ARE components of this, and I must use all the deep emotional and spiritual work I've done to combat what lies on the surface. I will win, and how I feel physically will be an expression of that.

Come with me.