I wasn’t going to write about my eating disorder today. I have a draft post about my PTSD waiting for revisions. I’ve resisted looking deeply into it to date but had big plans to do so in the somewhat near future. Those plans flew out the window this morning when I put on the jeans that are supposed to be baggy only to find they were less baggy than expected.
Just like that, my mental equilibrium got shot to shit…
Continue reading Between five and seven pounds
I made a vegetarian chili this weekend. I’m not sure how much actual cooking was involved. It was mostly opening cans and dumping them in a crock pot. True, I chopped up the onions and celery and added the spices. Perhaps I’ll call it “cooking-light”.
Still, it’s a step in the right direction, a step away from the way I currently eat.
Learning to eat in recovery is hard. An eating disorder takes away your ability to interact with food in a “normal” way. Food is either good or bad. Good food is low calorie and a high water content. Bad food is everything else…
Continue reading making chili, an exercise in recovery
“I’m failing at my eating disorder and my eating disorder voice reminds me of that fact incessantly. She’s a bitch that way.
I feel bad about failing, which is odd, considering that I’m mourning the absence of incredibly destructive behaviours. We miss what we know, even if it’s negative; we miss the loss of the familiar.
I’m failing because I’m eating…” Continue reading Failing at my eating disorder.
“trapped inside,
my feelings seethe about,
seeking expression.
i don’t know what they are;
i can’t name them…” Continue reading trapped
From Famine to Feast 