When one is living with an eating disorder, one does not seize the day. One is too busy getting seized by that thing that wants you dead.

It’s not unlike what happens when you’re in the grips of a major depressive disorder. Not much seizing happens then, either.

Then again, the expression isn’t, “carpe diem when things are just so, and the mood is upon you.” Probably because that wouldn’t fit on the souvenir coins, but I digress.

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I didn’t carpe much when my eating disorder was driving the bus. The metaphoric hair shirts I wore on account of guilt and shame translated to a refusal to deeply engage with self-care or fashion – those were for later when I was worth it.

Who doesn’t love self-punishment on the heels of self-flagellation? Must be all of us, considering how often we do it.

And while later may not have come, and while that’s a lot of sad and wasted time, I did save an abundance of funds. I say that with all sincerity because since I committed to skincare and makeup as a daily must-do, my purchasing has been a little off the hook.

It’s mitigated somewhat by my monthly Ipsy subscription – twenty dollars for six new skin and beauty products each month, all delivered in a seasonal makeup bag.

This will lead to a lot of makeup bags, so I extended self-care to upping my purse game. I’ve been inspired by the Vogue videos on YouTube, creatively titled, “What’s in my bag?”  

I mean, I have a makeup bag or three going spare, so why not kit out a kit for my purse? I likely won’t use it; I don’t think I’ve ever touched up while out, but organization doesn’t need a reason. Next, I localized the other sundries that don’t have a home in the purse: reading glasses I don’t use, medicines I don’t take, bandages I’ve yet to use, and some hand cream.

I’d have put a third one with my notebook and pens into play as well, but I was starting to feel weird. There’s only so much seizing a small purse can handle.

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Seize the day is my theme for March. Keep moving forward, let it go, and seize the day have been the themes so far if you’re keeping score.

For me, seizing also means taking a step outside my comfort zone.

And, why not? I’m already there with foster parenting. Full-time young ones is a big change for someone who’s had a very adult house for the past two years. It’s a period of readjustment.

It’s easy to not get angry or lose one’s temper when one doesn’t get challenged. Ditto the whole boundaries thing – they’re easier to maintain when no one, or very few, challenges them.

I’m very Zen and chill when my world is just so.

I first read the following sentiment on an inspirational poster in the insurance office I favour – they were all the rage in the nineties and early aughts and some places have them up still – but that doesn’t make it less true:

We must all either wear out or rust out, every single one of us. My choice is to wear out. – Teddy Roosevelt (who said some good stuff)

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I’ve been in a holding pattern for some time. It’s easy to live that way when you’re in recovery and the goal is to keep things simple and safe. At some point, however, recovery gets more solid and safety becomes a rut.

And ruts, I’ve discovered, are just as selfish as full-blow eating disorders – it starts once again to become all about me.

My world has been shaken again. But without movement, there’s no life to seize. Maybe safe isn’t the best choice at all. It doesn’t let you avoid sadness and grief in any case.

Sometimes, risks pay off. Of course, other times, the boat sinks. All you can do is carry on seizing – jump in and swim.

And that’s a whole lot of metaphor. Maybe that should’ve been March’s theme.

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header credit: Tiny Buddha

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