No More Dying

I felt like I was dying. That’s the best way I can describe it. I would be sitting at my desk, staring at the computer, feeling the keyboard under my fingers, and I would think, “I’m going to die.” Not a suicidal thought, just a premonition.  If I continued to sit there, at that job, in that building, doing the same thing every day, I would die. This I knew.

So I quit.  After four months of torment, fear, sadness, bingeing, resignation, anger, meditation, crying, praying, thinking, journaling, and dreaming, I quit. When I made the decision to quit my well-paying, full-time, insurance-providing job, I felt free. I felt like I could live in the world again.

I told my boss about my decision four days after I made it in my heart. I had discussed the choice with people, who mostly reacted positively.  I was rather shocked at how responsible they seemed to think I was.  I doubted I would be able to get myself to focus each day, trying to find work as a musician and writer, but they seemed fairly certain that I would do it. It occurred to me that I might be far more mature and reliable than I estimated. Perhaps I am.  Perhaps I’m not.  That remains to be seen.

I have been self-employed for three days now.  I have a few solid clients with Rock Star Writing and Editing already. By a few, I mean 3-5, and only two of them are booked for more than a single project. In music news, I couldn’t get any other musicians to sign on for the second Mi’Show, which is happening on May 4. Nonetheless, I have a nice vision in my head of a solo concert, so I think it will work out.  I have a lot to say to my fans right now, and perhaps I need an entire two hours to say it to an audience.

I have little idea how I am going to make ends meet. At this point, I don’t even know if I’m approved for individual health insurance.  If I get it, how will I pay for it?  My decision to leave my job seems increasingly insane.

Still, I do know one thing. The thought of going back to my old job upsets my stomach, up into my throat. I don’t want to go back. It was certainly not a bad job.  It was the best job I’ve ever had.  I was paid handsomely for work that, honestly, wasn’t that difficult. I liked the people there.  The office location was beautiful.  People appreciated my writing and editing for the most part, and I got to contribute in many other ways to the company.

Nonetheless, I was going to die.

Today, I don’t feel like I’m going to die.  Today, I feel free.  I feel afraid.  But I also feel free.  Part of me is strapped down by thoughts clambering for me to find more work, more money, more gigs, more everything. But another part of me knows that I will always have everything I need.  I just don’t know what I need yet.

I watched the sunset today from my car.  I was coming back from a recovery meeting that focuses on steps 10, 11, and 12 from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous.  We call it After Nine. The concept resonates with me.  We focus on spirituality and on our connection with others.  It lines up brilliantly with something my last sponsor told me. She said that recovery is really about three things:

1. Connecting with God
2. Connecting with others
3. Connecting with ourselves

That’s what After Nine is about. I may not fully ascribe to everything the Anonymous programs typically stand for, but I do feel that this part of it works for me.

I feel that something in this universe knows more than me—can see farther than me—even if that something is nature, pure and simple. There is a future and a past where I do not exist. I exist right now, in the present. And right now, the present is a pretty uncertain place. Or maybe it’s the most certain place. 

In this moment, I know that I am sitting here, writing this post, choosing words.  I know those things.  I don’t know the future.  I don’t know how long I will be able to work for myself or even if I will be able to work for myself at all.  I’m not sure what I’m going to do with music or if I will really find the new outlets I need.  I’m scared that I will not find what I need to make this life work.

But maybe a higher power will give me what I need instead.

Maybe I don’t have to know.  I am trying.  The bottom line is that I am putting one step in front of the other.  Even in my darkest times over the last few months, I did not stop getting up in the morning.  It became very difficult to do so, and I would procrastinate on taking that first shaky step out of bed in the morning. But I kept living life.

I gave it my best.  Yes, my best sucked a lot of the time, but I gave it. I am giving it.  I have goals for how many hours I want to work each day.  I have specific milestones I want to reach. But I don’t know if I will manage to work that many hours or reach those milestones.  I don’t know if I will achieve my goals, and I also don’t know if my goals are really what my goals should be.  I’ll go after them, but I hope that the universe/circumstance/God/Goddess/whatever takes me to the best place for me.

I keep thinking that Houston, Texas, does not reflect my values and isn’t nurturing me the way it once did.  Perhaps it’s time to move on.  However, Houston Community College has a great music production program that I want to complete, and I treasure my friends and other connections here. How will I know whether to stay or go?  Time will show me.

I canoed almost 15 miles down Buffalo Bayou last Saturday with some friends. I felt my smallness.  The boat wasn’t very big at all, but it was certainly bigger than I am.  The canoe seemed so insignificant compared to the trees and the steep, sloping sides of the bayou.  The sky was so much taller, and the city streets so much more massive than anything I have ever been or created.

I quit my job. I play music. I write.  I edit.  I look for work.  I look for ways to feel in touch with the world. That’s what I’ve done. That’s what I’m doing.  And a whole big world continually expands and engulfs all of it.

I’m glad I quit my job.  I’m glad that I can go anywhere in this big, wide world. I don’t know if it ever dawned on me so fully that I can truly go anywhere and do anything.  I’ve known that at an intellectual level, but I’ve never put it into practice.  Since I was a teenager, I’ve had a plan for everything.  I always follow the plan, and when the plan inevitably does not work out, I make another plan.  How about not making a plan?  I don’t mean discard my personal work schedule, goals, or other organizational tools.  But how about loosening my grip on those things?  How about life not being my plan, but instead, the way I do things?

Thinking about plans in that way helps me understand that I don’t know the outcome of what I’m doing.  I don’t know what will evolve out of my current efforts.  But my current efforts feel right.  I love writing.  I love inspiring others.  I love talking to other people about the things I’ve learned in life.  Perhaps these things will come together in a life I enjoy—in a life I want to live.

I’m going to die—eventually. But I’m going to live right now.  In my uncertain, unsteady, bewildered, inquisitive, sometimes frantic and afraid, sometimes peaceful and confident way, I’m going to live. I’m going to put one foot in front of the other and see where it takes me.  I’ve heard phrases like that for a long time.  Now, I’ve given myself a chance to really feel what the words mean. In a way, I want God to show me that she really is in control, that my life is okay.

I don’t want to binge and cry away my whole life. I want to write, travel, love, play music, give, and enjoy.  When I tell you that you can make any choice and do anything, I mean it.  Every decision ha consequences.  And guess what, I can deal with those consequences.  You can deal with those consequences.

I’m not going to tell everyone who hates their jobs to quit them. I am going to tell you to listen to your heart. Your heart knows when it’s dying and when it feels alive.  It knows how to live.  I don’t know how it knows, but it knows.  I feel it in my spirit.  I am shared out of my boots, shaking, weirded out, and totally puzzled by what I’ve done. But you know what? I’m allowed to make a giant mistake.  I’ve never let myself do anything that I thought would be a huge mistake, and even with that kind of forethought, I’ve still made too many mistakes to count.  I’ve always avoided any major choice that I thought could turn out very, very badly. 

Well, this time, I see the possibility of failure.  I recognize it.  And you know what?  It’s worth it.  Failing would be better than never trying at all.  At least I’ll be somewhere different when I hit bottom. And maybe that’s all my heart needs: something different.

Heart, I won’t let you die, especially not in front of a computer screen.

Non-Linear Recovery

I used to think people with eating disorders inhabited one of three spaces: in the disease, in recovery, and recovered. I thought people cycled through those phases, perhaps returning to one place or another along the way. Many times in support, 12-step, or therapy groups, a member will say, “I’ve been there before,” or, “I’m back in that place again,” or, “I’m afraid of going back to that place.” According to that view, I’ve been in recovery since 2004, and I was in the disease from 1998 until then. According to that view, I am climbing some sort of mountain or walking down a road of recovery, where I get ever farther away from where I started, and if I find myself in a place that seems like something I’ve seen before, I’ve somehow magically been transported to an earlier pit stop in my recovery. I’ve fallen backward.

I do not agree. For one thing, you could say I was in recovery for a brief period in 1999. You could say I was “in recovery” multiple times during that pre-2004 period. If someone looked at my life since 2004, he or she would certainly find times that could be classified as “in the disease” as well as times when I operated as a truly recovered person.

I am convinced that there are more than three places, and that those places are not linear. The terms “in the disease,” “in recovery,” and “recovered” are too convenient and simple to be altogether true. Sure, they describe very important eras within the life of someone with an eating disorder, but if I try to define my life in those terms, I feel pretty hopeless.

If I lived in this rigidly defined mindset, I would ask myself again and again, “Why am I in this place again? Why am I doing this? I thought I was past this.” I might devalue truly healthy moments, when I lived free of the ED, if I looked at my life since 2004 as exclusively one thing: in recovery. And I might exaggerate the darkness of all the days before 2004 if I consider saw it all as “in disease” time. It makes my progress seem like an unending struggle when, in fact, I had many lengthy periods of respite and many leaps in growth.

Every day in my life is a new one. It cannot be defined in terms of disease, recovery, and recovered. At any point, I might identify more with one of those terms, but the truth is that even when I am struggling with the disease and when I feel I am overeating or exercising too much, I am still healthier and more mature than I was during some times when I considered myself more “recovered.”

Yes, I want to eventually live in “recovered” full-time. I’m not there yet, but I certainly shouldn’t eliminate the possibility that I have been somewhere that looks an awful lot like “recovered” before. And I shouldn’t eliminate the possibility that any time I feel “recovered,” thousands of other states exist simultaneously. I may be recovered, but am I really healthy? Or enlightened?

I remember time periods when I felt free of the disease. I remember what I was doing, how I felt, how I related. That girl may not have been using food to cope, but she dealt with anxiety simply by organizing it out of her life, not by feeling it. She didn’t let people in. Certainly, my life was less rocky and angst-filled with fewer people in it; it was also less rich. I didn’t eat nearly the variety of foods I now enjoy regularly without bingeing or freaking out. To “keep” recovery, I had to make my days all very similar and predictable. I don’t have to do that anymore. But I will admit that my eating is not as steadily “perfect” as it once was.

At the very least, I am more myself now than I have ever been. The term “authentic self” has evolved into more than meaningless therapeutic jargon for me. It is how I live my life. In this life, I pursue my dreams, something I never did before. As I enter into new territory with my job, with music, with relationships, and with myriad other endeavors, I see how strong I am.

But at the same time, all these new experiences pile more stressors on. I can slip into ED thoughts and behaviors almost without realizing it. Every week is different. I veer more toward the ED some weeks and less toward it other weeks. It could even vary day to day.

Do the times I struggle mean that I am back in the disease? Do they mean that I have taken a step backward in recovery? No. I will never go back to those places, and I will never lose the recovery I have. My behaviors may not be what I want them to be, but I handle those behaviors far differently than in the past. I deal with them in a way that allows me to slowly move past and away from them rather than shoving them away as I did in previous years of recovery.

Should “recovered” be my all-encompassing destination? I don’t think so. It is one goal—one goal among many others, a goal than enables other achievements and a goal that is possible to attain only by reaching other goals.

Recovery does not follow a clear-cut timeline or maturity model. A person rarely gets to the “next step” in recovery, never to visit characteristics of previous steps again. Every person’s trajectory is very different. I may think that I have gone “back to step one,” that the behaviors I’m doing now are exactly the same as they were three years ago. I may think, “I moved past this! Why am I struggling in the same way again?” But am I really struggling in the same way? No. I am in a different place in my life.

How do I know that? Well, I am able to forgive myself more easily. My eating, although sometimes not what I would want it to be, does not determine how I feel about myself throughout the day. I am not ignoring these eating slips either. I am actively investigating them and learning new things every day. I am relating to people differently. I am taking risks. My life IS different. I am not in the same place again. If I stay curious and keep going, I will move past this place, too. I do not need to be afraid.

Refusing to believe in a linear timeline for recovery removes my tendency to judge others. People recovering from eating disorders sometimes refer to people as “not as far along in recovery.” It’s easy to label people that way and to pretend that I have been where those “newer” people are and have moved past it. But actually, where they are is very different from any place I’ve ever been. They have their own lives, their own personalities, the particulars of their disorders. I have my own. I might be able to relate, but I cannot say that I have been “in that place.” I can learn from even the “newest” person in recovery. That person may have already learned things that I do not know. They may be in a period of greater struggle, but that does not mean they are any further back in recovery than I am. I struggle, too, but my struggles are different. I acknowledge personal milestones and never have to give them back after a slip.

“The only direction is forward.” I believe this. I’m not sure who first said it or even where I heard it the first time, but it holds true. When I start getting down on myself because I’m “doing the same old thing” again, I ask myself, “Am I really doing exactly the same thing?” Usually, I am handling things a bit differently. Often, my food behaviors seem more amplified simply because I am willing to take a magnifying glass to them in ways I could not in previous years. I am moving forward. I am learning new things. Although my eating may not be where I want it to be, any number of other wheels in my life are rolling forward and getting stronger. The strengths I’m building in other areas will help me gain more mature eating patterns as well.

Sometimes I wonder if this new view is just a way of granting myself license to do whatever I want with food. Maybe it is. And maybe that’s what I want. I want to allow myself anything. Like any child, I might abuse that privilege at first. But only by building my own structures within that permission do I learn to behave more maturely with food.

This goes for anything in life. We are always moving forward. We are never stagnant unless we stop being curious, reflective, and inquisitive about our lives. If we ignore our lives and what happens around us, yes, we may stunt our growth. But most of us do not totally ignore our lives. Even if we move slowly, we move forward. Once a person learns something, she owns that learning forever. It could potentially get buried under other thoughts, but it remains, ready to be unearthed by a circumstance or feeling.

You are always moving forward. I know I am. I may feel disappointed in myself at times, but I handle disappointment differently than I did in the past. It’s time to appreciate where I am and actively grow from there. Every place in recovery is new.

The Battle Is On

Well, I'm at it again.  If I said I was reminiscing about my time bingeing in college, I would be misrepresenting the current state of affairs. For the past two (possibly more) weeks, the binge has been all sorts of ON.  I am not bingeing every day, nor am I eating all the time.  However, most days, I cross the line.  At least three times, I've completely gorged myself—and not on the low-cal fruit and veggie fare that has become a staple over the last couple of years.  I'm veering more in the direction of my fantasies, the ones I never fulfilled during college—the boxes of cookies, assorted desserts, whole loaves of bread, and more. 

I am completely aware of what I am doing as I do it. I know I'm eating too much, and I usually embark on the binge when not particularly hungry. I know that I am using food for the following reasons:

• Reduce anxiety
• Feel comfort
• Gain a sense of liberation from rules and restrictions

It’s a distraction from the overwhelming amount of things going on in my life.  The vast majority of my life is positive and good.  I feel empowered.  Sure, I feel frustrated with my day job, longing to live without the time constraint of a 40 hour work week. But I am taking conscious steps to one day move into full time writing and music making.  I struggle to remain patient as opportunities spring up around me and as I grow and mature in new ways.  Doors are opening, new people are entering my world, and I am uncovering untapped emotional worlds to investigate and unknot. 

These are all positive movements, but movement requires energy. And if I don’t know where I’m moving, it entails fear.  It’s difficult for me to book gigs, which requires facing rejection and dealing with unpredictable (and often unreliable) human beings.  As I deepen my relationships with others, I trust and am let down multiple times.  I wonder if I really am strong enough to continue to speak my truth and be myself out in the world.  Will people like my music?  Will people be annoyed by me?  Can I ask for the time I need at work?  Will I have enough money to live on?

I eat not only to distract myself and feel numb or slightly comforted.  I eat because I’m afraid.

Food is safe.  Food has been with me in good times and in bad.  Now, as I chart new territory, can I leave it behind? I think that, in a way, the food obsession itself is afraid of me letting go of it. 

I will let go; I will move into my new quarters. Until then, though, I seem to be inching my way along, with the food as a crutch to get me through this initial fear and pain. 

Examining old scars, working to make new connections, and walking through doors is scary but necessary. I do not want to stunt my growth any further with an eating disorder. It’s time to say goodbye.

My first instinct in the midst of turmoil is to redirect, to change course, to figure out what I’m doing wrong and fix it.  I used to think (and still often do), “What is wrong with me that is causing me to binge?”  This time, I’m not changing course.  This time, I believe that the bingeing is not an indication that I am on the wrong track.  It’s a sign that I am on the right one… and that I am afraid.

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.