Good and Bad

I'm working in the kitchen, and I glance at a jar of pasta sauce. It tells me that this is a "Light" and "Smart" pasta sauce. It has less calories, less fat, less salt. Yay?

I'm so sick of life telling me what is good and bad for me. I'm especially sick of trying NOT to be sick in this society where wacko images and statements are thrown at us all the time. Do this; it's healthy. Don't eat that; it's bad for you. If you do this three times a week, you will be a superstar. You will be thin, and when you are thin you are happy, and everyone wants to be your best friend.

Screw that! 

I finally got so sick and tired of being so sick and tired. 

Thin DOES NOT EQUAL happy.

I wrote about positive affirmations last night. One of the notes on my bathroom mirror says "Self-hate is not okay at any size." This is so true. There is no size that equates with happiness. I am no longer going to determine my mood and self-worth based on stupid things such as the size of my jeans, the number on a scale, or the amount of calories I ate that day. Recovering from ED is difficult in a society that is constantly telling us we will be more content if we just lose a few pounds, or eat a salad instead of a slice of cake.

In treatment, I had to face a lot of "challenge foods." One of the realizations I had during treatment was that I was giving food so much power. Why couldn't I see that I was the one with the power, not food!? I remember a memorable evening in treatment when I went into the dining room and there sat waiting for me, my dinner. And a cookie. 

A cookie?!?!?! *cue panic attack*

My initial feeling: anxiety. I can't eat that cookie; I'll gain weight! (Yes, I had this thought while getting treated in an eating disorder clinic. ED screws you up.) 

Second feeling: anger. This wasn't planned! If I had known I was going to be required to eat a cookie tonight, I would have planned my day differently; I would have eaten veggies all day to make up for that cookie. Gosh, I already had peanut butter today; I'm going to eat too much fat. Damn that cookie!

How exhausting! Realizing that I was giving so much power to that cookie, I cleared my mind, I said "F*ck you, ED," and I ate that cookie. And you know what? I didn't die!

Immediately after dinner, we had group therapy. I was so proud of myself. I ate that dessert, and I didn't feel bad about it! I had the epiphany that it was simply a cookie, and I looked at it from a completely detached point of view. It was a starch for my body; it was some fat that my body needs. I ate one cookie, and it was going to be okay! 

I realize this may sound so ridiculous to people not suffering from ED, but this is something that people with an eating disorder deal with on a daily basis. Eating that cookie (and not hating myself for doing it) gave me a new kind of strength that still makes me feel happy.

So whenever the television or the newspaper or the radio or a billboard tries to tell me that if I eat this and not that; do this and not that; drink this and not that...I turn my head and I continue moving forward. I have adopted the mantra that I will not starve and deprive my body ever again. Some days are more difficult than others, but guess what? I'm still alive, and there's a reason for that! Now it's less about surviving and more about thriving.

I am working on this every day. At this stage in my recovery, there are still times when ED's voice is so, so loud. But there are other times where I eat without a single ED thought, or I feel like having a treat, and I do. And that's so liberating.

Kicking ED's butt!