I wish...

I find myself wishing quite a bit these days.

I wish I went out to brunch more often.
I wish I saw more movies in the theater.
I wish I did more "activities": Indoor climbing, hikes, whatever.
I wish I splurged on the expensive make-up at the Nordstrom counter.
I wish I bought nicer clothes.
I wish I traveled more.
I wish I had the guts to move to a new city.
I wish I'd gain 15 pounds so my ass would look better in jeans.
I wish I used my free time to write more.
I wish I was a little bit taller, I wish I was a baller, I wish I had a girl who looked good, I would call her. (I wish someone else remembers that song).

I used to criticize wishing. I had a boyfriend once who was a perpetual wisher, a hoper, a never-doer. He used to say, wistfully, "I hope I get this school assignment done so we can hang out this weekend" or "I hope I can restrain myself from buying old records so I can take you out to dinner and we don't have to eat ramen noodles that you stole from your parents' house." I hated this. I told him once, "You can't wish for things like this. You can wish it will rain, because you don't have control over that, but stop wishing for things you can control. It's passive and wimpy and unattractive."

I dumped him shortly after this conversation.

So, how did I become a wisher, someone passively hoping for a different life? Most of the things I wish for are totally in my control. I mean, yes, I can't spend thousands of dollars on a new wardrobe and make-up from the Nordstrom's counter, but I have enough financial freedom to make most of these wishes a reality. However, I feel inhibited by my anxieties. Going out to eat, spending money, caring for my appearance, daring to go after a goal (with my writing, for example), traveling and leaving my comfort zone -- all of these things cause me anxiety. Just this weekend, I thought maybe I'd like to go ice skating, but then I came up with a number of reasons why it was better just to stay home. And I'm happy at home, but I still wonder if I would do more if I wasn't paralyzed by so much anxiety. Maybe I wouldn't, maybe I'm just a homebody. That's fine. Like I said, I'm not sitting on my couch, pining for something to do. But, then, what does my wishing mean? Does it mean that anxiety is playing a bigger role than I realize? Or is it just me aspiring to be someone I think I should be? This is where I get confused.

Larry is encouraging me to make an appointment with the psychiatrist, a no-pressure chance to just talk about my anxieties and how all-over-the-place my moods have been. I'm a little nervous about this. I remember the first psychiatrist I saw, over ten years ago. He said, "You will always see things small," which made me think there is no hope for someone with my wiring. He prescribed me an SSRI, which did nothing but make me a zombie, and that was that. The thing is that I don't really know what my problem is (if there is a problem; sometimes I think this is just me). Given that I have days, like today, when I feel perfectly fine emotionally, I don't think I'm clinically depressed or whatever. I'm not anorexic, technically. I don't have OCD, technically. Larry said, "Why does it matter what the label is?" I flashed to all the memories of looking at nutrition facts, doing the math, making my life as "orderly" as possible. I love labels! Gimme labels! But, Larry went on to say, "If there are things you want help with, just talk about those and go from there."

I guess. And I suppose I do feel more confined by some anxieties than I'd like to be.

I wish I felt completely free.

I wish I believed complete freedom was possible.

Do you have any wishes? Do you wish for things that are within your control? If so, what prevents you from making these a reality? Fear? Anxiety?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. ELEVEN HOURS OF SLEEP. This is very strange for me, but I enjoyed it thoroughly and woke up refreshed.
2. Hard shell tacos last night were a success. On the menu tonight: Almond-encrusted tilapia and sweet potato fries. I'll post a recipe if it's a success.
3. Yesterday's full condo clean was a success. Multiple loads of laundry, vacuuming, scrubbing. Feels good.
4. I finished "Belong to Me" by Marisa de los Santos. It was a good read. I'm starting "Hawaii" by James Michener. I'm told it's a shock that I haven't read it yet, and I figure it'll be good to read before our trip to Maui in April.
5. I made another "Rock of the 90's" CD for my sister. I'm obsessed.

Defining normal

I do quite a bit of worrying about what's "normal" (and the fact that I put it in quotes just emphasizes that I have no idea what an objective definition of normalcy is). Years of disordered eating kind of threw off my self-trust. I mean, not knowing if you're hungry or what you're hungry for or how to feed yourself is pretty basic. It's like not knowing how or when to pee.

I tend to reminisce about the pre-anorexia days when I ate without much thought. I didn't analyze my cravings. I didn't think that it was weird to eat a bowl of white rice with a side of french fries for lunch. I didn't balance my protein with my carbs and fats. I didn't compare my plate to my friend's plate. I just ate. Pre-anorexia, I was much better with decisions in general. Granted, I wasn't really wiser (I once decided to write expletives on the bottom of a cup when selling lemonade to a neighborhood kid I did not like), but I was decisive. I was efficient. I knew what I wanted, and I wasn't bogged down by doubt. But, when you've had a disease that takes you completely out of yourself and then almost kills the remaining shell, you struggle a bit with trusting yourself again. You question your motivations and intentions more. Are they coming from a healthy place, or that pesky destructive place? You ask yourself questions like this until you don't know up from down anymore. You second guess. A lot.

This has been the longest, hardest part of recovery for me -- coming to peace with who I am, separate from anorexia, and trusting my choices. This applies to food, of course. I bug Larry pretty frequently with questions about what's normal: "Is it normal that I'm still hungry after eating this calzone?" "Is it normal that I just don't like pork?" "Is it normal to worry about what's served at a dinner party?" But, it applies to more than food, too. I wonder if the way I socialize is normal, if the way I dress is normal, if the way I think and feel is normal. I'm stuck on this word -- normal. I'm constantly aspiring to it, though I have no idea what it means. It seems very arbitrary. Normal, like beauty, seems to be in the eye of the beholder.

I got an automated message from my doctor's office yesterday that I should call in for the results from my physical. I did. And I got a whole lot of "normal." Blood sugar, normal. Kidney function, normal. Liver function, normal. Estrogen levels, normal. Thyroid, normal. Cholesterol, normal. Triglycerides, normal. Normal, normal, normal. I'm writing the word so much that it's starting to look weird to me (does this ever happen to you? I got very stuck on the word "what" once. It just looked so strange to me. I was not high).

So, maybe I'm more normal than I think. Maybe there's nothing drastically wrong with me. I was waiting for the doctor to tell me that there was. I've been feeling just fine this past week. My mood is good. Maybe I'm just more prone to depression and anxiety, and it's something I have to work harder to manage. Maybe that's my "normal." I think I can learn to be okay with that.

***
Today's gratitude:
1. It's Friday!
2. I'm very much looking forward to calzone + "Project Runway" tonight.
3. We have a free weekend ahead of us. I'm pondering ice skating...
4. We got my sister's husband a birthday gift I think he'll really appreciate ;) That's my favorite kind of gift-giving. We get to see them next weekend!
5. Blue Buffalo cat food. Larry is obsessed with giving our cats the best in feline nutrition. It has flax seed in it. I'm pretty sure they eat as well as we do. He's so funny.

Hi, Excitement. Thanks for joining us.

As I've said the past few weeks, I've been in a really down mood. I do have days when I'm feeling okay, but then something small will happen and I'll go from a "6" on the Kim Contentment Scale (copyright 2010) to a "1." It could be something like an unexpected expense, an annoyance at work, fleas on cats (yes, our cats have fleas. Medication has been applied. Extremely obsessive compulsive cleaning will commence shortly). I don't think it's normal to have such big dips in mood, or for the dips to go so low (meaning, if I went from a "7" to a "3," that seems manageable, but "1" seems weird. I am not usually a "1" type of person). The past couple days, I've been a steady "6," which is pretty good. Today, I'd dare to say I'm a "7." What the heck? My guess is that my moodiness is hormone related. I had my doctor test my estrogen levels, so we'll see. Either something is off or, without synthetic estrogen from the pill, I am a mopey bitch most of the month (sorry, Larry, I don't know what to tell you).

Anyway, today, I woke up smiling. I went for a short walk, enjoyed my 90's music (my recent "can't-get-enough" thing), made a nice breakfast and watched part of "Dirty Jobs" (love this show). I came to work not feeling like I wanted to cry or die (such a tough decision, usually). I caught up on blogs. Katie mentioned ice skating in her post and my heart fluttered. Ice skating! I found myself wanting to go ice skating. That got me thinking about other things I'm excited about -- the Maui trip in April (I'm considering a new bikini and a surfing lesson while there), Seattle and Oregon in summer (my friend just mentioned a bike tour she did in Portland and I said, "Ooooh!"), going to a UCLA gymnastics meet with my sister (we grew up doing gymnastics and sewing leotards on our Barbie dolls; it's a bonding sport). These are all events, but there are lots of "uneventful" excitements too, like the return of "The Sarah Silverman Program" on Comedy Central, finding a new purse to hold all my shit, and weekend hikes and breakfast outings with Larry.

Why don't I have more days like this? I like these days when life seems simple and good.

How stable is your mood over the course of the month?

I have friends who are totally even, and some who say they fluctuate a lot. I think I just need to be patient with myself. I started keeping a little "Mood Journal" so I can track how I feel, related to anything going on in my life (I even have a column for "Weather," which is nerdy and largely unnecessary in California).

***
Today's gratitude:

1. Lunch at home. I'm obsessed with making grilled wraps these days. Word has it that our company will be moving offices and we won't be able to go home for lunch when that happens. I'm spoiled.

2. My Barnes & Noble order came today! Five books, baby, five books.

3. E-mail. What did people do before e-mail?

4. My bag o' snacks at work.

5. "Man vs. Wild" on TV tonight. Larry and I are fascinated with this guy. We also think there should be a show called "Man vs. Man vs. Wild" about the camera guy.

If not this, then what?

I keep having this realization: I'm not anorexic anymore.

I mean, if you're going by the DSM, I don't meet a single one of the criteria:

-Refusal to maintain body weight at or above a minimally normal weight (e.g., less than 85% of that expected): Nope, I'm more in the 90-95% range for me.

-Intense fear of gaining weight or becoming fat: Nope, not really.

-Disturbance in the way in which one's body weight or shape is experienced, undue influence of body weight or shape on self-evaluation, or denial of the seriousness of the current low body weight: Nope. I don't like my bloated days, but does any woman?

-Amenorrhea: Nope.

In regards to that last one...
My period has been extremely, weirdly regular. I was due to get it on Saturday. Nothing. Sunday, also nothing. And, as silly as this sounds, I felt sort of purposeful for a second, like I had a mission ahead of me. Maybe I'd lost weight somehow! Maybe I needed to gain again, dust off the ol' meal plan, in order for the period to return in all its gloriousness! Then, Monday morning, there it was, like, "Oh, hello, did you miss me? I just wanted you to enjoy your weekend, love" (my period has a British accent, by the way).

So, what's this "feeling purposeful" thing about? Well, I think for a while (2-3 years), anorexia was my identity. After that, recovery from anorexia became my identity. I've spent far more years (close to 9?) with this identity. I don't think it's any mystery that when I've gained weight in the past, I've lost it. It's not that I wanted to be thinner; it's more that I wanted to continue "the game." I like playing catch up. Oh, the drama of it all! Just like anorexia was a distraction from real life, recovery from anorexia became a distraction from real life. If I was having a relationship issue or career doubts or general angst, my first thought was usually to see a nutritionist, to talk to my therapist (about my eating disorder...I'm great with metaphors), to get on the scale, to make a new meal plan. It's been far easier for me to associate anything and everything with anorexia than to face the realities of just...me, and my "normal" life. When I consider that I'm not really anorexic anymore, I get a little sad. Part of the sadness is that there's no scapegoat. There's no disorder to blame. If I have a bad day, it's just a bad day, unrelated to food or weight. But, most of the sadness is about this lack of mission and purpose. Who am I if I'm not fighting this disease? Who am I if I'm not fighting, period?

When I went to the doctor for my physical yesterday, I sat on the table thinking, "Wow, I remember coming to the doctor's office and the entire visit would be focused on anorexia." Was I orthostatic? Was I going to pass out right there? Were my bones about to break? Would I get my period back, or be forever infertile? This time, the doctor didn't make one comment about my weight. Anorexia did not even come up. She told me how she just adopted a baby from India, and we talked about that. Nothing about what I eat, or my BMI, or whatever.

I don't have any desire to recapture my anorexia identity. I suppose I've known that for a while. But, it's just now that I've recognized my "recovery from" identity. I think it's hard for me to let go of the project of it. Or maybe it's hard for me to let go of this idea that I'm broken and flawed and, well, disordered.

I just ordered Jenni Schaefer's book, "Goodbye ED, Hello Me," because I think it may be applicable to this particular issue.

Do you struggle with knowing yourself outside of your disorder (and recovery from that disorder)?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations." I love that show.
2. Purple nail polish. Keeps me from biting my nails so much.
3. A short story contest without a reading fee. These are rare.
4. Sleep. This is anticipatory gratitude for tonight's bedtime. I'm very tired.
5. Hot lunch at home in an hour or two. The office is freezing.

Social values vs. food values

There's a column at New York Magazine called "The New York Diet" where famous people (some arguably famous) report what they eat for a few days. Most of these bore me to tears, especially now that I'm not as interested in comparing food, obsessing over food, daydreaming about food, etc. And, the truth is that if I ate like most of these people say they eat, I'd be back in treatment by March. My needs are different. I can't do two meals a day, for example. And I don't consider a piece of fruit breakfast. I consider it half a snack.

Anyway, I was intrigued by Michael Pollan's post. He's the author of "The Omnivore's Dilemma" and "In Defense of Food," and he's pretty well-known for speaking up about ethical issues surrounding what we eat. As the title of the post says, he's still the guy who "forages for chanterelles," but he also "doesn't sweat unsustainable sushi." In fact, according to his own account, he consumes quite a bit of fish, including the overfarmed, mercury-laden ones he opposes in his writing. He recognizes the potential hypocrisy and confronts his critics by saying, "Social values count as much as environmental values with me." He says, "One of my principles is -- in addition to eating sustainably -- to be a good guest and not reject what is served to you."

Predictably, he got a lot of flack for his reported meals. I'm sure he expected this. People would pounce on him if he did anything less than raise his own chickens and grow his own tomatoes. I like to think I'm an "ethical eater," but I totally see his point regarding social values. Life is short, and what's more important -- food rules (environmentally-motivated or otherwise), or social rules?

When I was anorexic, this question was easy because I did not know what "social" meant, let alone what rules were affiliated with that. Food rules were everything. As I've gotten better, I've been tripped up in many situations, wondering what's "normal." There are some foods I just don't like. Artichokes, for one. And several other steamed vegetables. I realize this is odd for a vegetarian. My mostly-vegetarianism (I do still eat fish on occasion) is not just for ethical reasons, but for taste too. I don't like beef or pork. Never have. And before I eliminated poultry, I was extremely picky about it (again, this was before my eating disorder).

Is it rude to have food preferences in social situations? What's your stance on this? How does your eating disorder (past or present) factor in? Do you think you have to be willing to eat what's offered to you to be "socially appropriate"? More importantly (for me), do you have to be willing to eat what's offered to you to be considered "recovered"?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. Annual physical is done. Man, I hate going to the doctor. Detest it. I have to go back (annoying), but at least the blood testing is done.
2. I got a Barnes & Noble gift card from my credit card company, so I get to order books!
3. It's almost lunch time.
4. "Weeds." I watched all of Season 5 in just a few days. I love that show. I'm sad to have to wait so long for the next season.
5. My sister. I talked to her yesterday. She makes me laugh. Sister relationships are complicated, but I love her so much.

Visiting the past

If you're on Facebook, you're probably aware of the newest "thing" -- posting pictures of yourself as a baby, a toddler, a dorky teen. I've always loved old pictures. They put life in perspective. Whenever I'm annoyed or bothered with someone, I try to remember, "This person was an innocent kid once." Ha. I know it's weird, but it helps, and evokes less giggling than picturing someone naked.

While looking through old pictures (and stumbling on some high school photos, one of which I used in my last post), I noticed that they made me feel pretty happy. Sometimes, I get so stuck in my head about present anxieties, or I jump ahead to worry about the future. Looking at old pictures provides a nice moment to pause and reflect on childhood simplicity, rebellious adolescence (and by rebellious, I mean the short shorts that earned me detention...once), confusing young adulthood. Even pictures from trying times make me smile, mostly because I remember how I couldn't imagine moving past those times, and now I see that I did.

Here are a few I was happy to find:

This is me with our first cat, PJ. I loved this cat. I also loved sitting in that position (still do).

This is a professional, studio portrait that my sister and I are still trying to understand. We are posed with the family dogs, Max (doberman) and Casey (labrador retriever). Casey is the only one who looks good in this photo. I'm rockin' the white high-tops. My sister's got the feather bangs. And the denim shirts...oh the denim shirts.

And these are from one of our last "family trips." We went to London and Paris. This was about 7 or 8 years ago, I think. I was out of treatment pretty recently, if I remember correctly. We just had such a good time. I'll always remember that trip.

I'm going to dare to start a photo meme (is that what he kids are calling it?) and ask that you (yes YOU) post three or four of your old pictures.

How does it make you feel to look at photos?

***

Today's gratitude:

1. The fridge is really, really full. I'm always a little overwhelmed after going to the grocery store. I'll make a flexible dinner plan for the week and try to just remember to use all the perishables :)

2. I had a good time with my friend yesterday. We had lunch at this cute bakery (and I discovered that I do like goat cheese, which I didn't know), and saw "It's Complicated." It was fun to catch up.

3. Clean clothes and clean condo. I don't know if I could start the week off sane if I didn't get these chores done.

4. I've actually felt good this weekend. I woke up yesterday NOT feeling like I got hit by a truck. I have my annual physical tomorrow so I'll talk to the doctor about this depression thing.

5. Computer nerd time with Larry. I'm going to join him in playing Everquest in a few minutes here. He's so lucky ;)

On friendship

When I was in high school, I had a core group of girlfriends. We were all extremely nerdy. Most of us were in multiple A.P. classes, wore D.A.R.E t-shirts for fun, and scrunched our noses at just the word "sex." My worst transgression was getting detention for my shorts being too short (I went to a Catholic school that did not take pity on the fact that I was ridiculously tall). We had sleepovers where "getting crazy" meant prank phone calls, Ouija boards, the occasional house TP-ing, and Mentos in Coke.

Here's a glimpse:

Ah yes. The big, baggie Class of '97 shirt. You can't see it here, but I'm rocking some scrunched up white socks that make it to my mid-calf. This was just a few months before anorexia began whispering in my ear. I remember this day because there was a barbecue, a senior class event, and I didn't think of food as anything but food.

Anyway, I've lost touch with a few of the high school girlfriends, but maintained contact with a few others. My best friend, K, and I had a falling out a couple years ago and just recently got back in touch this past summer. Now, we're back to e-mailing every day, sharing the details of daily lives. E-mail is safe for me. She's currently working for FEMA, doing engineering projects in New Orleans. I like to think that I'd want to hang out with her all the time if she was closer, but I really think I'd be stressed out, sadly. I told her some of this, and some about my current bout of depression. She wrote this:

"I'm sorry you're struggling with your mood. It makes me sad to know that you're not at peace. I want you to be happy. You are very good at hiding that you're not in the place you want to be...but I wish you didn't have to."

She knows me well. She knows I'm good at hiding. That much I assumed. We've been friends for 15+ years after all. What got me was the part about her wishing I didn't have to hide. I wish that, too. Most of the time, I think I'm too sensitive, that it's irrational to feel bad. It's almost like I don't think I have the right. Everything in my life is "good," so am I just ungrateful? I don't think anyone would want to hear me whine, so I tend to just try to smile and get through bad days. I've learned I can vent with Larry, but I haven't tried much with friends. I'm experimenting a little more.

What do your friendships mean to you? Do you feel completely open and honest with your friends, even about less-than-happy times? Are your closest friends your oldest friends?

***

Today's gratitude:

1. If you didn't notice, I got a direct URL for my blog, http://www.adventuresinwanting.com/. I don't think you have to update anything; it should just redirect. I don't know, Larry took care of it for me.

2. I got a couple other URL options to use for my writing. I've been pondering this for a while, both to get more freelance projects and publicize my fiction (with the hope that I'll have a novel to promote some day. If you build it, they will come?). I tend to feel more motivated to make headway on projects if I've invested money. Domains aren't expensive, but still.

3. I'm going to see a friend of mine tomorrow. We've been friends since elementary school, though we had many years of lost contact between junior high and college. Our parents stayed in touch and she was one of the first people I dared to see after treatment. I haven't felt very excited about leaving the house lately, but lunch and a movie should be good.

4. Larry and I are about to have dinner and watch "Project Runway" on DVR (yes, he watches it with me. He is secure in his manhood).

5. Weekend! The sun is supposed to return. Aside from friend time tomorrow, there should be lots of relaxing, cleaning, grocery shopping. The usual.

Recovery questions: My answers

Ok, ok, a few of you asked for my answers to yesterday's 7 recovery questions. I wasn't trying to be coy. I just wanted to hear your thoughts first. Here are my answers:

1. What do you think were the keys to your recovery?
The main key to recovery for me is self-acceptance. Beating myself up for hard days just leads to restricting, my self-punishment of choice. I've had to accept that recovery does not have this dramatic culmination, with a parade in my honor and trumpets blaring triumphantly. I think it's just part of life, an ongoing journey. It's comprised of small, somewhat ordinary moments.

Some practical things:
-Therapy. This has been pretty essential for my sanity at various times in the last several years.
-Recognizing triggers. For me, these include: unfamiliar situations (travel, social events), conflict in a relationship, rejection, stress/feeling overwhelmed.
-Caring less about what people think of me.
-Writing. I keep a journal and use my blog to sort through many issues related not only to anorexia, but to aspects of my personality that I think lit the anorexia wick.
-Realizing that anorexia is an illness, something I have to manage like someone with diabetes manages their condition. Seeing it this way helps me remove a lot of judgment.

2. What effect did it have on you to work with recovered staff?
This was incredibly helpful for me. I knew they'd been in my situation themselves, so I tended to trust them more. There were fewer eyerolls and dismissive sighs on my part. I still think of recovered staff members from time to time, looking to them as examples of health and freedom. It's not so much just food freedom, but they seemed very engaged in their lives (and happy!). However, I will say that I overheard a staff member discussing her fear of avocados once, and this really annoyed me at the time. I have compassion now, as I realize the ongoing-ness of all this, but at the time, I really wanted to believe I'd be "all better" the second I left treatment. Some of my expectations of recovery were a little off, I think. Overall, I think role models are important. We all need to believe it's possible to live a happy, healthy life without disordered eating.

3. How would you describe the concept of an eating disorder self vs healthy self?
I've given quite a bit of thought to this. I used to isolate thoughts as being "eating disorder" versus "me." Over time, this kind of made me feel too dissociated. Instead of saying "F@%k anorexia," I've had to have compassion for its role in my life, with a sort of "thank you, but no thank you" attitude. Getting too angry just brews too much negativity for me. However, I do understand this idea of a "healthy self." I can spot the healthy self in my life on days when I don't exercise, and appreciate the rest for my body; on days when I indulge in something that defies anorexia's rules; on days when I can stay in the moment with an activity or person. If I'm having a bad day and I'm caught in a decision (related to food, socializing, whatever), I try to ask myself what "healthy me" would do. I don't always listen to this, but it helps me to give it a voice.

4. What would you say to those struggling with reaching out to people instead of food? How did you learn to do this? How has it changed your life? What made it so hard?
Well, first of all, I think it's important to acknowledge that reaching out to people is not easy. Yes, people are unpredictable. They can be disappointing. They can love us too little. They can love us too much. They can challenge our way of doing things. They might judge us. So, yes, there are risks. I don't think it's crazy for people to fear intimacy. It IS scary, especially if you've been in a bubble for a long time. However, I think we need to connect with others to feel okay in the world. If you let someone see all of you, you realize that all these things you thought were terrible really aren't that bad. Being private and secretive breeds shame, which just leads to more isolation. Food is a certainty. Controlling it, manipulating it, etc does give an illusion of safety; but it's just an illusion. With little experiments in reaching out to others, I think it becomes clear that life trumps anorexia. Therapy is a good place to start. For me, I could rationalize that this person had to accept me; it was their job. I got more courage from there. I still struggle a lot with intimacy, but I've made an effort with a select few. Larry knows all of me, and loves me. Things I think are psycho about me are minor quirks in his eyes (if that). I have a few girlfriends and family members who seem to get me, so there's comfort in that.

5. "It IS about the food": Thoughts?
There is so much talk about eating disorders not being about the food. They're about control, depression, anxiety, self-punishment, blah blah blah. BUT, they really ARE still about food (as much as diabetes is about insulin). Recovery without proper nutrition is impossible. I don't think my brain and body started working together again until I was properly nourished. Just the Keyes study alone has shown that simple undereating can trigger a range of psychological issues. Getting to a stable place with weight is the most important thing in recovery. Of course, there are emotional issues, but it's impossible to even begin to confront those if you're severely underweight. Even though I get my period, I think gaining would put me in a safer zone, physically and emotionally. Being less than ideal weight, even by "just 10 pounds," makes it too easy to slip up. All it takes is one bad stomach flu and you're in a danger zone.

6. How have you found meaning outside of your eating disorder? How have you created a fulfilling life for yourself?
Ummm...still working on this. One of the hardest parts of recovery is getting to know myself and who I am. I am not a person with a disorder; I'm still me. Much of my anorexia was about doing what I thought I "should" do, and getting better has been accepting that I might not fit a particular mold like I wanted to. The process of finding what really matters to me is somewhat daunting. Without getting too existential, I think finding meaning in life is one of the biggest parts of really being free from anorexia. I've had so many fears about the world and my place in it, and it was simply easier to focus on food rituals and rules. My mom used to say I was "making molehills out of mountains," reversing the common phrase to mean that I was focusing on minutia to avoid something too overwhelming for me. I'm still working to find what I want, trying to ignore distracting social chatter (while still having relationships) and focus on my passions, however buried they've been.

7. How did you get motivated to get better? What helped you stay motivated? How did you find motivation after losing it?
Motivation has taken many, many forms for me. The biggest motivation was just being sick of the lifestyle. I wanted to want things again. I'm motivated because I know I won't live life fully if there are remnants of anorexia in my life. It's too restrictive. Restrictions with food spill over to money, relationships, experiences, and I just don't want that. I'm motivated by fear that the longer I live that way, the harder it will be to let go. I'm motivated by connecting with my husband. He knows all parts of me, which is an extreme relief. I'm motivated to stay well so we can have a long life together. I'm motivated to have healthy bones. Osteoporosis is already a worry amongst the women in the family because we're so small-boned. I want to be strong. Of course, I have days when I'm not motivated. Larry used a good analogy the other day. He said that sometimes my brain is like this ball rolling down a piece of wood. Naturally, it gravitates toward a certain groove that it's been in before (a groove of negative thinking, focusing on small things, obsessing and worrying). Even though this doesn't make me happy, it does feel right. The neurons are used to this particular path. Changing things is uncomfortable and takes daily effort. Sometimes, I'm just not up for it. I try to accept these days for what they are and remember the big picture. They pass. I've made a lot of progress over the years. None of it occurred in a way I expected, though. It was all gradual and did not follow one of my infamous to-do lists (much to my chagrin).

So, there ya go :)

***
Today's gratitude:
1. The Aniz Ansari stand-up special on Comedy Central. We watched it last night. Hilarious.
2. Thunder and lightning!
3. I have plans with a girlfriend on Saturday. I've been feeling really exhausted and antisocial lately, but I'm trying to get excited for this.
4. The pet sitter lady I talked to yesterday sounded nice. And she was eager to discuss my cats and their "needs" for 45 minutes. Excessive?
5. Rain, rain, and more rain. I love it.

7 questions about your recovery

The director of the treatment center I attended way back in 2001, Carolyn Costin, just sent me an e-mail asking for my input for her new book (she's already written this one, this one, and this one). She posed 7 questions. I gave her my answers, and I'm curious about yours. Also, if you're interested in having your words used in the book, send me an email and I can pass on your information.

7 questions about recovery:

1. What do you think were the keys to your recovery? (not a long answer, just a list and explanation of why)

2. What effect did it have on you to work with recovered staff? (all the staff members at Monte Nido have recovered themselves; you could adapt this question to discuss how important it is to have a therapist, or other treatment team member, who has recovered)

3. How would you describe the concept of an eating disorder self vs healthy self?

4. What would you say to those struggling with reaching out to people instead of food? How did you learn to do this? How has it changed your life? What made it so hard?

5. "It IS about the food": Thoughts?

6. How have you found meaning outside of your eating disorder? How have you created a fulfilling life for yourself?

7. How did you get motivated to get better? What helped you stay motivated? How did you find motivation after losing it?

I don't know about you, but answering questions like these helps me stay grounded. I'd love to hear what you have to say.

***
Today's gratitude:
1. Rain! It was torrential here yesterday.
2. Appetite. It's good.
3. I made a doctor's appointment for next week. I want to rule out any possible physical things (anemia, thyroid issues, hormone stuff) before jumping on the Depression Bandwagon.
4. I do have a good contact for a psychiatrist, so I'm hopeful about that, if I need it.
5. You guys! Your comments give me so much insight and support. Thank you!

Recipe of the week: Anti-depressants with a side of hash browns

It's a lazy Sunday here. Thanks to everyone for your encouraging words on my last post. I have to admit that I get a little flustered when someone says that what I write is inspiring or motivating in any way. I'm definitely not, "I am woman, hear me roar!" about fighting anorexia. I'm rather humble to it, and I'm usually afraid to tout any victories for fear of jinxing them. In therapy yesterday, Dr. C fixated quite a bit on my blog, and what it means to me. Honestly, I try to detach from it a bit. He seemed perplexed by this. Why wouldn't I allow myself to be passionate and excited about it? Well, hell, he could apply that question to recovery, or life in general. It's usually related to fear -- I'm afraid to get amped up about things, in case something goes wrong. He kind of let out a long, tired sigh in response to that. And, while I know he didn't mean it to be judgmental, I felt judged. I felt like he was considering me hopeless or annoying. I guess I'm very sensitive to heavy sighs.

So, I felt pretty shitty yesterday. Which is aggravating, since I felt FINE the day before. I don't know what's up with my moods. Really, food stuff has been good. Some of your responses encouraged me to just ditch the scale. If I'm honest with myself, I know I check in mainly to see if I'm gaining too much, whatever that means. I have my clothes as a guide. There is no immediate danger in regards to my physical health, so I'll just let my body do its thing, without obsessing over numbers. That feels better. What's odd for me is that I've been feeling blah, and I can't really blame food issues. Those are fine, but I've been under a bit of a depression cloud for a while now -- maybe a couple months. The only benefit is that my anxiety is way less, as general apathy seems to be a side effect of this funk. When I wake up in the morning, I feel like I got hit by a Mac truck. I'm tired more often, not energetic. I can't seem to muster excitement for things. These are all classic symptoms of that word I hate -- depression.

I hate the word because it's so overused. I don't want to be one of those people who has "depression." I don't want to have to go on medication. I've tried meds before (1999, 2001, 2005) and they didn't help much (and, after withdrawals from one, I remember saying, "I will never do this again"). I'm wary of trying again. The time, the money, the side effects, the guinea pig-ness involved. And, of course, the stigma. I can't help but feel weak if I need help from a pill. I know, logically, that depression is an illness, managed the way most illnesses are managed -- with medication. But, I still judge myself. I still think that going on them means I wasn't strong enough. I'm just not sure what else to do at this point. Therapy takes me to a certain point, then I feel stuck. I'm getting sick of this, and I'm pretty sure Larry is too.

What is your experience with meds? If you are on medication, what were your initial apprehensions? Were you able to get past those?

***

This morning, I was determined to shake up my day a bit, so I made hash browns with breakfast. It was way easier than I thought. All you need is: A big russet potato, oil (I used canola), salt and pepper (and ketchup for dipping).

First, peel the potato. Then, use a cheese grater to grate the potato.

The grated potato will be very watery, so set it aside in a colander and press dry with paper towels. You can let them sit for a few minutes, but don't wait too long because they'll turn purple (something with oxidation?).

Heat the oil in the pan. I used 2 TBSP. I think they came out a bit too oily, so maybe 1.5 TBSP would be better.

Throw in the grated potato on medium-high heat. The potato pieces should all be flat on the pan, no overlapping.

Let them cook for a few minutes. With a spatula, lift up the edges to see if the potatoes are crisp and brown. If they are, flip!

Cook on the other side and then season with salt and pepper. You're done :)

I had about half the pan along with eggs, toast, and a pear :) It was the perfect Sunday breakfast...

And now it's time for lunch!

***

Today's gratitude:

1. Massage in a couple hours.

2. Condo is clean.

3. Larry's patience.

4. Rain in the forecast.

5. Kitties.

Worth the weight

I haven't talked about food issues/weight in a while. I've been at a relatively comfortable plateau, mentally and physically. After I went off the pill in summer, I was nervous about how my body would react. I hadn't had a "real" (non-pill-inspired) period in years. But, lo and behold, it returned, regularly, which amazes me so much that you'd think I'd join hippie women in circles, giving praise to the moon or whatever.

For a long time, I wasn't weighing myself. The director at my treatment center said that 3 important parts of recovery are: Keeping a journal, reaching out to others, and not getting on a scale. I considered this Gospel for years. Then, I got on a self-management kick, frustrated with anorexia sneaking back into my life, and unable to find professionals who didn't suck. This was back in 2005 or so. I got a scale. It didn't have terribly detrimental effects, but it didn't have positive effects either. I got rid of it. A couple years ago, I got a new one (another self-management kick). It disappeared at one point (or, actually, I told Larry to hide it). I found it at another point. I forgot about it for a while. Then I remembered it again. I started weighing myself once a week. I didn't have much emotion about it, and I say that with total honesty. I told myself I was just looking to stay on track (without having to trek to a nutritionist or doctor to relay the information). And, I was just plain curious, though sometimes I think curiosity kills not only the cat, but the chick in recovery from anorexia. Lately, I don't stress about the scale, but I do wonder why I care what I weigh at all. Does it matter? Really?

Anyway, something interesting has happened: My weight's been going up. Gradually, slowly, but up. It's actually higher than it's been in years.

Something not-so-interesting also happened: This bothered me.

It's not so much the number that bothered me, but the fact that 1) I wasn't actively trying to gain weight, and 2) I'm not at all motivated to make it go down. I feel like my body is just doing its thing and I seem to have little interest in stopping it. I suppose this is a "good" thing, recovery-wise, but it's a hard thing, identity-wise. I'm accustomed to being driven to control my body, but I just can't seem to care so much anymore. Food blogs bore me to tears. I have no patience for recipe searches. The "health and fitness" articles get nothing out of me, except a slow eyeroll. What happened to the Kim I knew and didn't really love?

The truth is that gaining weight is good for me. Carrie Arnold did a great post about target weights that got me thinking about my ideal body weight (a topic I try to sidestep regularly). I was at my ideal body weight, but just barely, when I left treatment in 2001. A break-up in 2002 sent me down, not a lot, but enough to be sort of precarious. I never really regained that lost weight for any solid period of time. And I'm still not at 100% of my ideal body weight (as I know it; it could very well be higher now that I'm older). Before this recent gain, I've been in the 90% zone for the last, oh, 7 or 8 years. I still get cold more easily than others around me. I'm already at high risk for osteoporosis since the women in my family are naturally small-boned. And Larry would probably appreciate some more cushion for the pushin'. In short, there are good things about more weight. It's worth it to me to gain. I deserve to be as healthy as I can be.

Another thing: Historically, I have needed a specific and relatively high number of calories to gain weight. I'm not eating this amount. I don't count calories diligently every day, but I have a ballpark estimate, and I know I'm eating at the low end of my "maintenance amount." So, what gives? Well, I don't think my caloric needs decreased sharply upon turning 30. And, contrary to anorexia's arguments, I don't think changing my exercise routine (meaning, not doing it if I don't want to) has much to do with it. What I do think is that the estrogen in the pill used to give me a boost. I think my hormone levels are still pretty low right now, as my body weight is still not ideal. This is just a hypothesis. I have no science to back up this theory. It's just my instinct.

So, what is my conclusion after seeing higher numbers on the scale? Eat more. As an experiment. I just want to see what happens, if I start to feel better. I've been a little blah lately. My appetite has been low, my energy has been low, my sex drive has been low. These are all things that can be related to something else being low -- body weight. I do wonder, "But what if I keep gaining?" I used to think, "Oh well, I can always go back. I know how to restrict." But, honestly, I've come to the realization that I don't have it in me to restrict or lose weight. I have zero desire to go back. There is just no enthusiasm in me for that. That's okay with me, it's just...different.

Do you have a scale in your life? Is it a loving relationship? Abusive? What does "the number" mean to you?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. It's Friday!
2. New season of "Project Runway" to watch on DVR tonight :)
3. My splitting headache from the beginning of the day has made a gracious exit.
4. This weekend should be nice and relaxing: Therapy tomorrow, massage on Sunday.
5. Thanks to those of you who checked out my short story :) If you want to read a little piece I wrote about my relationship with my muse, check out The Writer's Inner Journey.

Light bulb moment #5: Intimacy issues

This is the last of my deep thoughts for the week. I don't anticipate any more depth. Maybe some shallowness, like talking about the Victoria's Secret swimsuit catalog, which has different styles of bikini bottoms to suit different butts. This has both motivated and panicked me about the upcoming trip to Hawaii. Anyway...

So, intimacy. I never thought of myself as someone with "intimacy issues," but I have thought of myself as someone who keeps to herself. Pre-anorexia, I was this way. During anorexia, I was basically a hermit. My world got very small, bubble-esque. These days, I'm still very introverted. Because of the bubble years, I've called my introversion into question more. I've wondered if it's related to my eating disorder social patterns (or lack thereof), or if it's just who I am. I'm older now, I'm not in college where socializing opportunities abound, I work full-time, I have a writing career I try to tend to, and I have a husband who entertains me quite a bit. I don't feel the need for more, but I do wonder if that's "normal" (are we sick of this theme yet?).

In therapy, Dr. C brought up another client of his as an example he thought I could relate to. This client went on a trip with a married couple. The couple enjoyed his company and sent him an e-mail saying they'd love to travel with him again. The guy's response was one of stress. And I totally, totally get this.

When I get an invitation, my first thought is not, "Oh cool, I'm liked!" Mostly, I feel this pressure, this weight on me. I feel like there is some demand, some expectation that comes with the invitation. This happens with compliments and flattery, too. Just last week, Larry was telling me what a good writer I am. This filled me with joy, but there was pressure right on the heels of that joy. I jumped to thinking, "He's right. I'm a good writer. I should be more committed. I'm such a slacker."

In response to this type of thinking, Dr. C said, "Wow, what an interesting way to avoid intimacy." I told you he's blunt.

Blunt, but not wrong. In a way, my negative response (feeling the pressure) pushes the person (and their totally good intentions) away. I have many friends-at-arm's-length (and I have freakishly long arms). I think I'm sort of comfortable with a little distance. I'm scared to get really close to people. As the old refrain goes, it's not them, it's me. I associate social situations with having to conform, to pretend, to act a certain way. I think if I felt 100% comfortable just being me, quirks and all, I wouldn't feel so much pressure. It seems like all these posts come back to one idea: Self-acceptance.

Do you feel pressure in social situations? What relationships are most intimate in your life?

***
Today's gratitude:

1. NBC TV tonight, with 2 episodes of "30 Rock"!

2. I have a massage this weekend. I really can't wait for this. These work chairs kill my back.

3. I've noticed lately that I have absolutely zero interest in food-based blogs, recipe hunting, health and fitness online articles. I used to obsess about this sort of thing. I'm not sure what happened, but I'll take it as a good sign.

4. I'm gaining weight, apparently. I'm listing this as a gratitude because I feel compelled to do so. There are mixed feelings. Post to come...

5. Tonight just might be this week's calzone night (strangely, I've stopped planning dinners in advance too, so I really don't know for sure).

Light bulb moment #4: Therapy should probably make you feel weird

I've been through my share of therapists over the past 10+ years -- cognitive behavioral, psychodynamic, unspecified-but-paid-for-by-Blue-Shield. I've always done a fairly good job of "keeping it together." I don't like to cry in session, though this has happened before. And I like to come in knowing what I'm going to talk about. Preferably, it'll be some event that happened during the week, a focal point of sorts, something easy to compartmentalize and check off my list (seriously, I've gone to therapy appointments with a list. On a post-it. Affixed to my check). It's usually a surface issue, a passing drama, and by the time the session is over (they always go fast, don't they?), I've scratched that surface, but not gone beneath. I feel accomplished and happy, maybe even relieved that we didn't get too far. I'm starting to see that it's pretty essential to get too far.

I don't know what it is about Dr. C, but he brings out parts of myself I'd prefer he didn't. He's a bit unorthodox, I guess. He calls it like he sees it, no holds barred. In my last session (the one that has inspired all these light bulb moments... I swear they're almost done... one more max), I was talking about how it's hard for me to daydream. I almost immediately start worrying about realities, logistics, practicalities. Larry and I just talk about the idea of buying a home, for example, and I have heart palpitations. Dr. C said something along the lines of, "That's very obsessive compulsive, crazy thinking." Ha.

My initial response was not "ha." My initial response was a little pissed off and defensive. Crazy? Don't call me crazy! But, then, I don't know, I felt kind of relieved. I've always felt like some of my thoughts are crazy (not that I'm crazy, but that some thoughts are). I've had many therapists deny this (in an attempt to comfort me?), which only made me feel weirder. I don't think Dr. C is a pussy-footer, which is nice. During the same session, he said, "For someone so meek and mild, you have incredibly high control needs" (I guess controlling people are supposed to be loud, overbearing and obnoxious? I am, I assure you, but usually within the confines of my own head). Again, my first response was uneasiness and discomfort, like, "Oh, shit, this guy totally sees me for the glaringly imperfect person I am." But, again, the overwhelming feeling was relief.

For most of my life, if you asked people two adjectives to describe me, they'd throw out something like, "Sweet and calm." To this, I would always feel totally befuddled. Sweet and calm? Are you f-ing kidding me? Someone once called me "bohemian." I'm fairly certain that if you look up "bohemian" in the dictionary, my face shows up as the antonym. I am not bohemian. I do not spend weekends in San Francisco with flowers in my hair. On a spectrum of stress, I am not even within shouting distance of "care-free." Knowing this, I've always felt a little lonely, like I must be fooling people, like I'm not really "known." My previous therapist said that anorexia seems to be this paradox of wanting to be seen, but unseen. We want to be known, desperately, but we're afraid of what this involves, of what judgments we'll withstand. Dr. C seems to "get" me after just a few sessions. I admit it makes me feel vulnerable. I do worry if he's judging me. It's weird to have someone crack the facade. But, really, I think if therapy doesn't make you feel a little weird, it's not really working.

Thoughts?

How do you think people would describe you? Do you think this aligns with how you see yourself?

***
Today's gratitude:

1. Hump day.

2. A little California rain.

3. www.awkwardfamilyphotos.com -- always makes me laugh.

4. Conan O'Brien's classiness. I don't even watch late night TV, but I think NBC and Jay Leno are such tools.

5. One of my 3-minute readings ("A Corporate Quack") is up on the DimeStories Web site, if you're interested :)

Light bulb moment #3: I'm mortal, and that might be ok

This is where I get into my fear of death. Just to preface, I don't wear all black, have a pierced lip, or use a black Sharpie for eyeliner. I'm just a sort-of-normal person with some sort-of-normal (?) anxieties about the fact that I don't live forever.

Let's start with some preemptive comic relief. This anecdote came from Abby:

A woman picks a new primary care doctor. After two visits and exhaustive lab tests, the doctor says she's doing fairly well for her age (she just turned 60). A little concerned about that comment, she couldn't resist asking him, "Do you think I'll live to be 80?"

He asked, "Do you smoke tobacco, or drink beer or wine?"

"Oh no," she said. "I don't do drugs either."

Then he asked, "Do you eat rib-eye steaks and barbecued ribs?"

She said, "Not much. My former doctor said all that red meat is very unhealthy."

"Do you spend time in the sun, playing golf, sailing, biking, that kind of thing?"

"No, I don't," she said.

"Do you gamble, drive fast cars, or have a lot of sex?"

"No."

He looked at her and said, "Then, why do you even give a shit?"

Alright, so back to my morbidness...
I don't talk about this much because I think it's bizarre and will cause my number of blog followers to decrease rapidly, but coming to terms with mortality has been a big part of this whole recovery thing. I've run up against this question of "What's the point?" in relation to life so often, many times using it as a rationale to "put off" getting well. I've told myself I won't really get better and live my life until I know it has meaning (which is sort of confining, as I don't think we can find meaning until we get better...but, anyway). The fact that life is so short has left me confused as to the meaning of it all. I've never had a therapist really explore this with me. I probably didn't know I needed to discuss it until somewhat recently.

A while back, Dr. C made this statement: "At their core, people with anxiety are usually afraid of one of two things -- going crazy or dying."

He's read one of my novels and said it's pretty apparent that my main fear is dying. Then he said, bluntly, "You die, I die, we all die. It sucks. It just does." Just this made me want to cry. His response to his own statement was to smile and say, "So what?"

He's right. I mean, yes, we all die. If you're like me, perpetually living in the future, the prospects do not look good. It seems the only real answer is to stay in the present. The present is nice. It offers things like roses to smell. I admit I don't naturally notice roses, or think to smell them, but I do have days when I'm more in that zone, cruising along content, not really thinking about what's around the next corner. And, while a part of me thinks this is lazy, that mistakes and missteps will abound, that I'm going to be terribly unprepared for some catastrophe (like running out of detergent on laundry day, for example ;)), I can't deny that I feel a hell of a lot better in this "lazy" state.

Still, the ambitious part of me says it's not totally realistic to always live in the present. Animals do this, but humans have the ability to think ahead, to imagine. We all have goals, usually associated with some future time (whether it's the next day or the next year). For me, I think coming to terms with mortality means putting less stress on making this short time I have "perfect." I'm sure part of my uneasiness about death is related to my maximizer stance toward life. I feel pressure to do it "right," to be perfect in every choice. Life feels so tenuous, so fragile. What's ironic is that the rituals and restrictions I've developed in the face of this reality (that life is tenuous and fragile) have only inhibited my ability to live (quite literally, at one point). It's like this:

Want to live life to the fullest --> Try to plan ways to do this --> Get so obsessive compulsive that I develop a tidy set of rules to follow for an illusion of perfection --> Settle for the illusion --> Stop experiencing life

At this point, I go back to wanting to live life to the very fullest and there's a choice: I can either keep doing what I've done for years, or I can let go of this need to live perfectly and just focus on enjoying. Is enjoying "lazy"? Would my life be a "good" one if I didn't accomplish X or Y, but I enjoyed myself anyway? Would it even be possible for me to derive enjoyment without those accomplishments? Maybe I'll have to part ways with some of my standards and expectations. Dr. C says it's about figuring out what's worth it to me in this life, what I want. I told him, "But what if I don't know what I want?" He said, "You do. A part of you knows."

What's worth it to you in this life? What gives your life meaning?
(I warned you this was the "Deep Thoughts" series. I promise it'll end soon :)).

***
Today's gratitude:

1. Lunch breaks at home. We live close enough to home to enjoy The Colbert Report and hot lunches on our couch. It's awesome.

2. We got our tickets for Maui in April!

3. I looked into the possibility of getting a pet sitter for vacations because the boarding process is completely traumatizing (for me more than the cats, I'm sure). I have some good referrals :)

4. "State of Play." I watched this last night and really enjoyed it. Funny memory: In treatment, my roommate said I used to talk about Ben Affleck in my sleep.

5. I'm actually looking forward to snack time in 15 minutes :) I just sounded like a kindergartner, didn't I?

Light bulb moment #2: Feelings as information

In my last therapy session, Dr. C asked me to rate my mood on a scale of 1 to 100. I said about 45. I'm not really discontent about anything specific lately, but I'm just kind of blah. I told him that I haven't really been getting too far above 50 or 60. Of course, the academic overachiever in me quipped, "I guess that means I failed."

This joke, however lame, reveals a lot about my relationship with my mood. When I get in a funk, I go right to judging the funk. I tell myself that, logically, I have no reason to be unhappy about anything. I beat myself up for not "going with the flow" more, for stressing about minutia, for being so weird, for not getting more excited about things I think *should* be exciting. I do this with bumps on the recovery road, too. I hit the bump, then I effectively hit myself for hitting the bump.

As Dr. C pointed out, I'm really only doubling my discontent this way. First, there is the fact that I feel bad; second, there is the fact that I feel bad about feeling bad. It seems that an easy way to reduce the intensity of any funk is to just accept the funk for what it is. I think this is similar to a point made in "This Emotional Life." When helping a woman with her phobia of flying, the cognitive behavioral therapist says that we end up feeling exactly the way we try so hard to avoid. This must be because we are thinking about it so damn much. I fear my funks. It's true. I fear getting swallowed whole by them. This just gives them power, of course. And all the thoughts about my funk create a separate funk, a meta-funk. Confused yet?

In "This Emotional Life," they talk about this idea of feelings as information. I always roll my eyes at my feelings. I consider them annoying, stupid things that interfere with my planned, orderly, controlled existence. Even with a happy feeling, I think, "Oh, what are you doing, you tease? Just coming to flirt with me before you settle down with someone else?" I've never really thought about this idea that feelings -- good, bad, and ugly included -- are helping me in some way. Maybe they are. Maybe they have hippie spirits: "Don't judge us, man. We just want to live free."

I'm trying this more often -- letting feelings just be what they are (and giving them the voice of a Woodstock attendee for the sake of amusement). If I'm in a mopey mood, it doesn't really help to sit there and criticize my mopey mood. How about just saying, "I feel mopey. Oh well. It'll pass." The best part is that the "it'll pass" is not me kidding myself. It's not wishful thinking; it's actually based on experiential truth.

***
Today's gratitude:

1. We watched the Chris Rock "Kill the Messenger" stand-up premiere on Comedy Central last night. Hilarious. I could have done without all the expletive-bleeping, but that's what I get for missing it on HBO.

2. I can't say I'm stressed out about anything right this second.

3. A new fiction story is asking me to write it. I'm considering complying with the request.

4. I like this blue color for my blog better than the pink, Mattel box color.

5. BBQ pizza tonight?

Light bulb moment #1: The way we were

(I've had a few tiny epiphanies lately, so I think I'll share them over the next week or so. It'll be like a little "Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey" series)

A couple sessions ago, my new therapist said, "I have a feeling that when you lie down at night and stare at the ceiling, your existential crisis has to do with comparison." What he meant is that much of my discontent is based on looking around me for the "right" way to be. What am I supposed to be doing? What's normal? What's the best? Am I weird? Am I doing it wrong? This is, not surprisingly, very true. But, in yesterday's session, I discovered something else -- I do a lot of comparing to myself, to how I used to be.

Cases in point:

• I used to have more social energy and intimate relationships. Now, closeness to others does not come as easily. I seem to have a heightened sensitivity to disappointing other people, and being disappointed by them.
• I used to really look forward to trips. I remember signing up for a trip to Spain, somewhat impulsively, and it's hard for me to believe that was me. I still like the idea of traveling, but the logistics of leaving home (and spending money) are stress-inducing.
• I used to be so free with food that by dinner time, I couldn't even remember what I had for breakfast. Now, I often remember events by the food that was there.
• I used to write without inhibitions or self-doubts, and I used to write every day, happily. This one weighs on me the most. I remember the joy of writing, being so driven that I finished my 300-page novel for my thesis in a month. When I first submitted my work for publication, I got the rejection notices and something changed for me. I got to know the business that is writing, and it just didn't seem so fun anymore. I wondered why I was writing, if this was the way it was. I still run into that question.

What I like about this therapist is that he's very direct. He meets me in the present. He doesn't care much about who I used to be, or who I think I should be in some distant future; he cares about who I am right now. He cares about addressing my current anxiety and depression issues. He cares about my definition of happiness now (and my expectations for living that definition). And I think that's a big part of contentment -- being in the present. I've always known I'm a future-thinker, a worrier, but I realize now that I do a fair amount of visiting to the past. In thinking about tomorrow, I do use yesterday as a yardstick. I'm not sure this does any good. I'm different now. I've been through a variety of experiences (internally and externally). I'm older. And, of course, there's that good ol' lesson I hate to relearn: Nothing is constant but change.

I've been pondering this idea: What would it be like to just wake up and consider only today? I could extend this to food, which would mean less planning and strategizing meals. But, I think I could extend it to almost anything else. Who am I today? What do I want today? This is most of my work in therapy, and I'm excited to do it.

***
Today's gratitude:

1. I watched "This Emotional Life," the PBS series on DVR and really enjoyed it. Some of it was very similar to Gilbert's book, "Stumbling on Happiness," but the case studies and interviews with clinicians, celebrities, writers, regular folks made it so interesting.

2. Dave Farmar's yoga podcasts. I used to have trouble with these. I'd get distracted and frustrated and find myself browsing the Internet while in child's pose. I can do almost an entire podcast now, without getting irritated with myself.

3. The condo is clean.

4. Larry. As much as I think I have all these things about me that need to be fixed, he's never, ever seen me as broken.

5. In the spirit of this post, I haven't looked at my day planner all day today :)

Changing the way we think about mental illness

Since I've been involved in the blog world and read so many insightful posts from others with eating disorders, I really have concluded that anorexia is a biological illness.

I wasn't so sure of this for a long time. I thought I was just a weak person who couldn't feed herself normally. I beat myself up for this, which really only led to more restricting. When my dad said things like, "But, Kim, there are starving people in Africa," I nodded and thought, "I know, I'm such a piece of shit." When loved ones expressed bewilderment that I would choose not to eat, I didn't know what to do but shrug and say, "I'm bewildered too." I mean, who chooses not to eat?! But that's just it -- anorexia is not really a choice. It's an illness. This is something I've started to understand, logically, though my emotional learning is slower. I still have days of thinking I'm such a piece of shit for not being "over" this completely (whatever that means).

Sometimes, I feel compelled to be an eating disorder advocate, to increase and improve awareness of anorexia as a mental illness and, further, to change the way people see mental illness and remove the stigma. Because there IS stigma. I get invited to eating disorder groups on Facebook (usually by bloggers), and I never join because in my "real life," not many people know of my struggles. Again, I don't want to be seen as a weak person who can't feed herself. I assume others would see me this way, as I've seen myself this way for a number of years. It's hard for me to "come out," though I do see the benefits in doing so. After all, to hide is to perpetuate the idea that anorexia is shameful, that mental illness is shameful. It's not.

Maybe I'm just overwhelmed by how difficult it may be to change attitudes and perceptions. It's easier for others to package eating disorders like this: Woman (it's almost always considered a female disease) has low self-esteem, so she wants to lose weight and look better to garner more positive attention. Done. To consider the complexities of anorexia would be a bit much for most people. Throw in that it's a mental illness and, suddenly, it would not be relate-able for people. Right now, by associating anorexia with dieting, which is more popularly understood, eating disorders get sort of simplified. They fit nicely into 5-minute segments on "Access Hollywood."

The Onion always has a way of speaking truth, in a funny way. I think this sums it up:



You have to laugh a little, right?

***
Today's gratitude:

1. Vacations are planned for 2010! Maui end of April; Seattle/Portland/Eugene in August.

2. Therapy tomorrow!

3. I've heard so many great things about "This Emotional Life" so I'm planning to watch it this weekend, or catch a re-airing.

4. Waking up in the same position I fell asleep. I love when this happens.

5. "Inhale" yoga with Steve Ross on Oxygen. He's totally dorky and weirdly flexible. He wears MC Hammer pants and has goofy soundtracks. But, I like him.

Understanding appetite

When I was in the worst of my illness, friends and family were perplexed by the self-destruction, the forgoing of food. I would bake cookies and breads and not let a single crumb touch my lips. I didn't know what temptation meant. I didn't know what desire meant. They said, "But, aren't you hungry?" The truth was that, no, I wasn't hungry. I didn't know what hunger meant either.

Over the years, as I've gone through various phases of recovery (with slight dips in weight and slight gains), I still get confused about my appetite. I often say that if I felt hunger like a "normal" person, 90% of my eating disorder issues would be solved. The thing is that I eat when I'm hungry now. I don't try to restrict. This is progress. The problem is that my hunger signals are very easily muted.

Sarah at Bearing, Eating, Being did a great post about eating disorder triggers. I related to almost every single one. I also related to the idea of anxiety being The Trigger for restrictive behaviors. When I have a conflict with a loved one (or, hell, even a stranger), when I'm in an unfamiliar situation (on a trip, at a dinner party, whatever), it's not that I think, "Ok, I'm going to undereat because that will make me feel in control and calm." It's not that thought-out and calculated. It's just that my hunger goes away almost completely when I'm anxious.

Most recent example: Vegas. In general, leaving home produces anxiety for me. This is bothersome, as I think I'd like traveling if I didn't have all the inner turmoil. I'm a worrier, so I think about things like our condo burning down (seriously). However, most of my anxiety is not related to imagined catastrophes, but just the simple breaking of routine. I like things being predictable and orderly. Leaving home means many more unknowns (and, yes, the food unknowns are where I tend to channel all my uneasiness). When we were in Vegas, I did not feel hungry once...in 48+ hours. I felt cranky and bitchy, and I've learned this means I am in need of food, but I didn't get that feeling that a gremlin was clawing the insides of my stomach. Of course, I ate anyway. But, heck, Vegas is supposed to have some of the best food in the world and it's hard to really take advantage of that when your stomach is less than enthused.

What's interesting is that I'm most hungry after a therapy session. During therapy, I get back to feeling comfortable in my skin. I feel more peace about who I am and what I want from my life. The judgments I have about myself (that I'm weird, different, not living my life fully enough, etc) kind of vanish and I don't feel much anxiety. When the session is over, I'm usually ravenous. I think to myself, "Damn, if only I could have this feeling every day." I'd gain weight, for one, which I think would be a good thing. Right now, I get my period regularly (every 28 days to the freaking hour, actually) and I'm "healthy" for all intents and purposes, but for my bone health and my vanity, I'm perpetually "wanting" to gain another 10-15 pounds (I put wanting in quotes because this is a complicated statement). But, almost more importantly for me, I'd enjoy eating more if I was hungrier. It would be more satisfying. Often, even now, several years into this, eating is still somewhat of a chore. I enjoy the routine of it, but I don't really feel like I'm hitting the proverbial spot when I eat (mostly because I don't really feel "a spot," aka hunger). This isn't true every day, but I would say it's true in general. Does anyone else experience this?

What is your relationship with your appetite? Would you say you have an active appetite? Is it rather dormant? Does it change day to day? How do you adjust your eating -- eat according to your hunger, or just stick to a general plan regardless of appetite?

***
Today's gratitude:
1. Hump day. Being back at work is hard, but the week is past the halfway mark.

2. A bunch of new books in my Amazon cart. I feel a splurge coming on...

3. Vacation plans are solidifying.I always postpone taking vacations, like I'm waiting for the "perfect time" or the "perfect trip." Carrie Arnold at ED Bites posted about this pleasure procrastination (very interesting, I might add). We've decided that we'll go to Maui (my family has a rental condo there), hopefully in March, then Washington/Oregon (Larry's family has some land up there) in August.

4. I may have a movie date with my co-worker's wife (the one I met at the party a while back).

5. We got a laser pointer to play with the cats. Larry could make them chase the red dot for hours, I think.

Recipe of the week: Vegetarian lasagna for two :)

I've experimented with various vegetarian lasagnas and this one is my favorite concoction.

What you need:

-A box of no-boil lasagna noodles (Barilla makes them, or I get them at Trader Joe's with the other dry pastas...though they didn't have them the last time I was there)

-Whatever pasta/marinara sauce you like

-Ricotta

-Mozzarella

-Parmesan

-A bag of frozen chopped spinach

-A few cloves of garlic

What you do:

Set the oven for 375.

Thaw the spinach. I do this by dumping the bag into a colander and running scalding hot water over the spinach for a couple minutes. I suppose you could thaw in the fridge overnight, but I don't think of these things in advance.

Once it's thawed, squeeze out the excess water and transfer your spinach into a mixing bowl.

In the bowl, add sauce to the spinach -- enough to make a soupy mess (probably a couple cups of sauce).

Chop up your garlic cloves (2-3 is good) and throw in with the spinach and sauce mixture.

Grease an 8"x8" pan. Cover the bottom of the pan lightly with a few spoonfuls of sauce. Then, put down 2 of the lasagna noodles.

Now, I meant to take more pictures of the layering process, but I totally spaced out. To be perfectly frank, I feel really weird taking pictures of food. Anyway, it's pretty easy:

-On your two noodles, put about 1/4 of the spinach mixture. If you do a little more or less, it's okay; you'll compensate with the next layers. Then, spoon out some ricotta on top. I do about 6 heaping-ish spoonfuls and just spread it around. Top with a bit of mozzarella and parmesan.

-Repeat the layering: 2 lasagna noodles, 1/4 spinach mixture, ricotta, mozzarella, parmesan.

-Repeat again: 2 lasagna noodles, 1/4 spinach mixture, ricotta, mozzarella, parmesan.

-Then: 2 lasagna noodles and the rest of the spinach mixture. Then top with a lot of mozzarella and parmesan.

It looks like this before you put it in the oven (or, rather, it looks like this after you put it in the oven, but then remember you haven't taken a picture, so you take it out again):

Cover loosely with foil and bake about 30 minutes.

Remove foil and bake another 20 minutes. Then the cheese gets nice and crispy.

Eat! Larry and I pretty much eat half the pan each, for reference.

***

Today's gratitude:

The list today will be based on the Happy 101 award, passed on to me by Sara at Sprinkle of Cinnamon. The instructions are to: List 10 things that make me happy, do at least one of them today, and pass it along to 10 bloggies. I figure "things that make me happy" are synonymous with "things I'm grateful for," so here are my 10:

1. My husband. I've never experienced such all-out acceptance from another human being before. It's a great comfort to me. He's my best friend, my partner in crime, and all the other cliches. I love him.

2. Kitties! I feel a little embarrassed about how much joy the cats bring me on a daily basis. I'm even more embarrassed to admit how many times throughout the day I think, "I wonder what the kitties are doing right now."

3. Yoga. I'm slowly learning to have a healthy relationship with exercise. I really do love yoga. When I'm in that zone, I feel so calm and my body feels so happy. But, I have days when I just don't feel like it, and I have to honor those or I get resentful and dictator-like with myself.

4. Reading. I will forever find happiness in good books. Getting into bed with a book, determined to read until my eyes close, is complete bliss for me. My Amazon cart, full of "save for later" books, gives me goosebumps.

5. Netflix. I love movies almost as much as books. I devour them. What would I do without Netflix? I cherish my Netflix queue almost as much as my Amazon cart. It's weird, I know. I also keep a list of movies I've seen and my ratings. It's like a 30 page Word document right now.

6. Sunshine. I love California's bright, clear days. I like rain too, but sun is wonderful.

7. Therapy. It grounds me, makes me feel okay with who I am and, consequently, okay in the world. I always have this background hope that I won't need it at some point, but right now, I'm just happy I have someone who "gets" me (and has weekend appointment times).

8. Writing. I've always loved words and creating fictional stories. Something changed for me after grad school, when I started pursuing publication. I lost the joy of it because it became a "have to." I love the moments when I can forget about the pressure and get lost with characters. It doesn't happen as much as it did when I was younger, but it still happens.

9. My friends. I'm not someone with a slew of friends. I have a handful of friends I'd call "good friends." Some live out of state. I may not see them for months. We rely on e-mail much of the time. But, the closeness I have with them is something not to be taken for granted. I realize as I'm older that it's hard for me to feel at ease with new people and make new friends. I think about the five or six people I have who love me as I am. I feel little to no anxiety around them. And that's something.

10. My family. My parents and sister have always been a huge part of my life. Just getting a nostalgic CD of 90s music from my sister reminds me of how much I've shared over the years with my family. Through all the changes, ups and downs, they've been there.

Many of you have probably already been tagged, but here are my 10 shout-outs:

Sarah at Bearing, Eating, Being

Cammy at Building Beauty Beyond Body

Katie at Under the Stars

Tiptoe at Between Living and Existing

Abby at I Have Issues

Kim at ilaxSTUDIO

Jessie at Synecdoche

Lynn at The Actor's Diet

Melissa at I Hate to Weight

Sophia at Burp and Slurp

Thanks, ladies!

The year ahead

I don't want to like memes. I want to think they're annoying. However, I do kind of like them. They're quick, fun ways to get to know someone else (or yourself). I saw this one at Say Yes to Salad. The Chicato Tribune is the original source. It's a little bit of a different way to look at resolutions for the New Year.

One thing I will learn: To ignore more and more "shoulds" and find out what I really want.

One place I will go: A happy place, with Larry, to be determined. We don't get many vacation days, but we'd like to take time off unpaid to travel a bit. We're still pondering where.

One habit I will break: Licking my knife when I eat. This drives Larry absolutely crazy.

One habit I will cultivate: Cleaning my hands before I touch the remote control. I really am like a five-year-old sometimes.

One work habit I will change: Panicking when something unexpected derails a project. Yes, this is a habit, unfortunately.

One thing I'll eat more often: Snacks.

One thing I'll eat less: I really can't think of one thing that would be appropriate here.

One thing I'll drink more: Non-water beverages.

One thing I'll drink less: The previous response would suggest that my answer here should be water, though I don't think I would say "drink less water" is a resolution I'm pursuing.

One resentment I'll get over: My inheritance of the depression and anxiety genes in the ol' gene pool.

One person I'll treat more respectfully: Myself.

One thing I'll spend less money on: Ummm, for me, the better resolution would start with, "One thing I'll spend more money on:" and I would be boring and repeat the previous answer: Myself.

One thing I'll spend less time doing: Worrying.

And a thing I'll spend more time doing: Enjoying.

One resolution I've made before but will honor this time because I really do believe that with a little effort, life can be better: I thought a lot about this one. I could say "submit more short stories for publication" or "maintain a healthy weight" or "let go of more food rules," but I have an aversion to absolute goals like this. Like I said in my last post, I really just want to put less pressure on myself. Resolve not to resolve.

What are your answers?

***
Today's gratitude:

1. Had a great therapy session this morning.

2. Hung out with my good friend yesterday. As I get older, I realize it's harder for me to make close friends the way I did in high school. So, I'm grateful I still have a few friends from those high school days.

3. Music of the 90s. My sister made me a CD to bring back some memories of when we were in high school. It was so weird how just the songs got me thinking of very specific moments on family trips and things. I made her 2 CDs and mailed them today.

4. Zach Galifianakis. This guy is hilarious. We watched his comedy DVD last night. So funny.

5. Clean sheets and computer games. The perfect lazy Saturday.