Living the Life You Want to Live

I want to start this by saying that my thoughts and prayers go out to anyone who is struggling right now. I have family and friends in Texas, and the situation there is just one example of the incredible suffering that is going on in the world at any given time. I'm an INFJ/P, and if I start thinking too much about all the pain that others are experiencing (humans, animals, plants. . . even fictional characters), I get a bit overwhelmed. I don't want to open this on a negative note (this post is meant to be inspiring, I promise!), but I think that--as much as acknowledging the pain around us can be triggering--it can also be a source of motivation for getting better.

A few weeks ago, Florence Welch wrote:

 "I am 7 years sober today. I send my love and support to anyone who is struggling. If you are feeling shaky around ED issues, drugs or alcohol, I completely understand. The desire to disassociate is so strong. But please don’t give up. We are going to need you on the other side."

As I'm working on moving through this most recent relapse, I keep thinking of Florence's words and the idea of "the other side." Anorexia is really, really limiting. As someone who's been battling it for seven years, I can tell you that it doesn't help anyone. Not you, not your friends, not your family . . . and certainly not the world. But don't feel guilty. Just as I didn't decide to fall into anorexia, orthorexia, or exercise addiction, you, too, didn't wake up one day and choose to stop eating. But recovery IS a choice. A difficult choice that leads to a long journey, but a choice nonetheless.

And here's the beauty of working towards "the other side"--you have the chance to base your life on your values. You can start living the life you want to live today. Isn't that wonderful? 

What are your values? What version of yourself do you want to be? The version that can enjoy dessert with her mum, read a book instead of going for a run, and volunteer at the SPCA without worrying about what she's going to eat for lunch, or the version that is too afraid to do anything but micromanage her eating and exercise habits? I've been the latter version of myself for far too long. In my relapse, I sort of lost sight of the potential to "get better for real," but I decided on Lunar New Year to commit to living the life I want to live. 

Of course, this (like so many things) is easier said than done. I recently downloaded the BrighterBite app for eating disorder recovery, and it is a wonderful, free tool (with an adorable aesthetic) that I highly recommend to anyone who feels bullied by their thoughts. I'm also starting therapy again. Having someone (or multiple people, ideally) outside of you holding you accountable can be fundamental for making progress. Getting this support system requires a lot of honesty, though. The anorexia voice may tell you that keeping your fears a secret will keep you "safe," but honesty is what's going to save you. I promise. This week, I admitted to my mum that--despite being 1000% times healthier than I was a year ago--I've been harboring fears around carbohydrates. The anorexia voice had me convinced that I couldn't eat the same bread as my mum and brother with my lunch because that would be "too many carbs at lunch." Flashback to my childhood, when my brother and I had the same lunches most days. I was completely healthy having hummus on a bagel or sunflower seed bread with almond butter, yet the anorexia voice would like to convince me that I "can't" eat those sorts of things anymore. UGH.

Well, after being honest about this both with myself and with my mum and "challenging" myself with the gluten-free bread my brother eats, I realized that the anorexia voice is (once again) lying to me. And even better than realizing that is realizing that I now have the freedom to, for instance, shop at a wider variety of stores because I'm no longer afraid of carbs at lunch. (Side note: We're GF because of Celiac in my family, and Canyon Bakehouse bread is really, really yummy--and it comes in recyclable packaging!)

If you're looking for permission to step outside of your comfort zone, open up about your worries, and start living a life on your terms (not anorexia's!), please take this post as a sign that all of these things are not only totally safe but also incredibly rewarding. When I start worrying about recovery being scary or bad, I remember that my life is so much better now than it was when I was in the deepest depths of anorexia. I'm on this journey with you, and as someone who is recovering, I want you to know that you CAN do it and that it is definitely WORTH it. 

<3 Frances 

Images from Giphy.

Embracing Unpredictability

Instead of studying for finals yesterday, I spent the morning trudging through snowmageddon with my mum and brother. Because of a rather un-foreboding weather forecast, we'd thought that we would be able to make it home from church before the weather got bad, but our 24 year-old car ended up sliding down an ice hill, and we had to abandon it in the middle of the city and seek shelter in our friend's tool shed. By the time he got home to break us out of it, the roads were buried, and we ended up staying the night without access to any of our homework. Yay, finals!

Needless to say, I am so incredibly grateful our hero-friend saved us from the snowstorm. We got locked in his shed, and when he showed up wearing a Santa hat to break us out of it, we were soaked and covered in the purple-red hues of pre-frostbite. I swear that I've never been so happy in my life to have a cup of tea before . . . even if the inspirational quote on the tea bag made me feel a bit foolish for having gone out that morning:

"One thorn of experience is worth a whole wilderness of warning."

Thank you, James Russell Lowell. I'll remember that.

Anyway, we made it back to our poor sweet car today and dug him out of his snow pile enough to get home, and we're desperately trying to make up for our lost study time now. The semester ends this week, so I'm trying to write as fast as possible, but I wanted to take a quick break to post here a little bit because last night got me thinking a lot about practicing gratitude and embracing unpredictability. Both of these things are so crucial to eating disorder recovery.

Found on Yoga for Wellness

One of the things that an eating disorder promises us is control. Often, we become vulnerable to eating disorders in part because something about our lives feels out of control, and we believe that if we control every aspect of what we eat, we'll find a sense of safety and calm. Ironically, though, having an eating disorder actually means losing control to an illness. We give up our sanity, our health, and our happiness for control that we don't actually have. Isn't that scary?!

I know I make this comparison a lot, but Gollum's relationship with the One Ring in The Lord of the Rings is a really good metaphor for the relationship someone has with an eating disorder. Gollum thinks that possessing the One Ring gives him control in his life, but in reality, the One Ring is a very unhealthy fixation for him. I mean, he's willing to spend eternity hunched over in a dark cave talking to himself and cradling the ring like it's the only thing he cares about. "My precious . . . ."

When I think of my eating disorder obsessions, I try to imagine Gollum and the One Ring, and then I realize that an eating disorder--as "in control" as it may make me feel--is ultimately going to ruin my life if I don't fight it, regardless of how counter-intuitive and stressful non-disordered behaviors may seem. But every day that I don't do the hardest workout and every Friday night that I eat a bowl of Luna & Larry's on the couch with my brother is another step closer to freedom.

And as for practicing gratitude . . . my mum and I have been trying to follow some of Lesley Fightmaster and Adriene Mishler's yoga videos on YouTube, and they usually include mindfulness lessons woven in with the actually asanas themselves. A few days ago, we did a yoga video that included a quote from The 7 Book: How Many Days of the Week Can be Extraordinary? by Dan Zadra and Kobi Yamada:

30,000 mornings, give or take, is all we’re given. If you’re 26, you still have 20,000 left. If you’re 54, you still have 10,000. An accident or illness could change all that, of course. But let’s count on you to remain safe and healthy all your allotted life—in which case you still have plenty of time. Sort of.

“We get to think of life as an inexhaustible well,” wrote composer and author Paul Bowles, who lived to the ripe old age of 32,442 mornings. “Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. 

“How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that’s so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more, perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.” 

30,000 mornings. We’ll spend some of them on the treadmill, or fighting traffic, or standing in line at the Starbucks store. Just be sure to spend some of yours seeking and savoring the real beauty, mystery, and adventure of your days. This is your life, your one and only life—don’t miss a day of it.

Yesterday, I spent one of my 30,000 mornings hiking to safety in a tool shed, but my family and I didn't die in an accident, and we got to spend the evening with each other and a dear friend instead of spending it obsessing over homework. So I'm grateful for yesterday. Focus on the mornings, the evenings, the mid-days . . . see every moment as an individual piece of time that you've been granted. The freer moments are the ones when the eating disorder isn't in charge. You can do recovery and get your moments back for yourself. I believe in you.

And before I go . . .please be careful if you're in dangerous weather!

<3 <3 <3