To cook, or to not cook, that’s the question. Once upon a time, I liked cooking. Before the eating disorder tentacled it’s way into everything, I quite enjoyed it. I liked trying new things. I liked feeding other people. It’s harder with an eating disorder, if only because people ask why you aren’t eating, or why your food is different. So, I started cooking less. … Continue reading Let’s break bread, an off-the-cuff joint.
I’m a comparative individual. I compare myself with others constantly. Both my mother and grandmother were judgmental people, commenting on others across nearly all metrics, on everything from appearance to behaviour to employment to belief systems. And although my mother did it to a lesser degree and with more grace than my grandmother, hearing others being judged and fond wanting on a regular basis takes … Continue reading I’m fond of external scaffolding, it helps keep me organized – an off-the-cuff joint.
I have no plan. I don’t think much about the future. Not about next week, or next month, or next year. I used to, many, many years ago. When I was a child and wanted to be an aerospace engineer. Or a biochemist. Or a surgeon. Back when I had plans for the future. But an eating disorder, though it taunts you with ideas of … Continue reading Nihilism is almost never a good idea – an off-the-cuff joint.
I never really had a career plan. I didn’t have a life plan either. Most of what has happened to me feels accidental, things that happened along the way while I was pursuing my eating disorder, while I was living with mental illness. Plans were for later, when I was better, when I was perfect. But later almost never comes. Maybe that one time in … Continue reading I didn’t have a career plan – an off-the-cuff joint.
From Famine to Feast 