Week 13: A Pregnancy Without a Scale

Happy Wednesday fighters!

Wow, thank you so so much for all your support and love from the last post. I can tell that this journey is going to really bring so many people from all walks of life all around the world together.

From people who are soon to be mamas who have struggled with an eating disorder, to those who have not, and to those who are just starting recovery from any addiction, I think our truth holds a lot of power.

So last blog I talked about my Chipotle experience and how I struggled back and forth between allowing myself to enjoy it and between my Ed voice getting mad at me for it.

This week was very different than that in two ways.

First, I was so sick this week, that I would have been extremely grateful to enjoy any bite of my food and would have driven the 45 minutes to Chipotle if I had the energy to enjoy food.

For the first time in a long time, I really missed enjoying my food.

Even being in recovery for five years, enjoying food is still such a freedom to me that I never take for granted. But this week, I was really reminded of that freedom and how grateful I am that I get to indulge in it whenever I do.

Second, this week was different because it really wasn’t about food much at all. When I blogged about a year without a scale, literally my entire life was centered around that and my recovery, as it should have been in new recovery.

But this time around, five years later into my recovery, my recovery, I am glad to say, is part of my life, but it is not my entire life-if that makes sense.

So while of course pregnancy and pregnancy without a scale is going to be a huge experience in my life and my recovery, it isn’t taking up every second of my day, which I think is a recovery victory.

For those of us in recovery, that is something that we strive for; we strive for our recovery to become part of us, not become us. 

This week was also different because it was extremely emotional.

I wasn’t worried about my food or body. I wasn’t really worried at all, actually. Worried isn’t the right word.

I was just really anxious. I think now that we are past 3 months along in the pregnancy, it is hitting my husband and I that we are going to be bringing in a human life into this world.

It is the by far the happiest we both have been about anything, other than the day we got married to each other. Yet at the same time, at least for me, it brings me so many thoughts.

Most of us who are in recovery from any addiction are type A personalities and we love, love, love planning and schedules and knowing the outcome of things.  It’s one of the reasons I went to school to become a reporter; because I love facts.

Facts are indisputable. Hard evidence. Solid information.

I love agendas, schedules and planning-I get excited just writing it! Sometimes when I talk to my sister on the phone and she asks me what my plan is for the day she will stop me half way through and say, “Shira, I didn’t mean every hour…I just meant overall.”

With pregnancy, it is hard to plan.

I got overwhelmed with what happens after our amazing little human soul is here.

How do I run my nonprofit? How do I work? How do I be a mom? How do I be a wife? How in the universe will I do all of that and still practice self -care and be sane?

It almost seems like it required a superpower.

That was pretty much a lot of my energy this week. Thinking about those questions. And I don’t have an answer to them still, which is still a very weird feeling.

The best answer I could find for myself was, “You will figure it out. Just like everyone else does, you will do. People do it all the time.”

So obviously, my type A readers are probably reading that along with me thinking, “Whatttttt, Shira, what kind of answer is that?”!!

I know. I agree. It’s unsettling. And it still makes me nervous, but that is the truth.

But that is the work I did this week.

I really had to dig deep inside myself and remind myself, that just like when I started recovery and had no idea what would happen or when I moved states away to Washington by myself at 23 years old, I had to learn how to practice living in the grey.

Not the black and white, but the grey.

I think from this point on with my life as a mama, director of my own agency, advocate, wife, daughter,sister, friend, etc, I will be living in the grey.

None of those titles seem to even hold a space in the black and white world anymore because the definition of those titles will be constantly changing as I grow and evolve and our family evolves.

So, I will figure it out. And I am already now starting to give myself the flexibility to allow myself the time to do that.

The typical black and white version of me would have expected to have it “figured out” one week after the baby is born, or even before.

But the grey version of me is telling myself, “just let it ride. don’t put a time limit.” (Which again, is pretty adventurous for us planners).

But beyond that, there is one thing I would like to mention in this week’s post about the food part of my recovery before I end this post.

I drove myself to Trader Joes on Sunday which is about an hour from my house but has food that I really love, so in hopes of trying to find a food I like, I drove down there.

I usually buy the same basic stuff every time I go. But this time, I gave myself the freedom to just browse and see what looked good to me.

I looked at food and drinks I never would have looked at before. Foods that might not have been on my “healthy” list before.

And so, I even bought some of them.

Even standing in line buying them I was thinking,”Wow…this is so different.”

But I got home and was looking at my strawberry lemonade, dried fruit and tamales and shredded wheat cereal with the sugar on it that I bought and I thought, “what in this is really that bad?”.

Nothing . Really, nothing in that was “that” bad as my Ed voice would say.

This week, that strawberry lemonade was one of the only things that made my taste buds happy. I mix it with water otherwise its too sweet and also I don’t believe in drinking my sugar all day, but it was amazing.

And none of the food I got, that was “bad” food, was anything I binged on or anything like that. I trusted my body to take what it needed. And I was proud of myself for that. That takes a lot of work to practice trusting your body.

I have been thinking, similar to the Chipotle experience, why, did I have to wait until I was pregnant to buy myself strawberry lemonade and shredded wheats and tamales?

It kind of sounds crazy now that I write it down.

Those are foods I always walked by and wouldn’t let myself buy.

I am thinking that while I was in the best place in my recovery before I got pregnant, that maybe there is this entire part of my recovery that was untapped and just waiting for me to open and explore.

Maybe I wasn’t totally 100 percent honest with myself about what freedom with food was?

Or maybe I just didn’t even know that I was depriving myself from those things that I enjoyed until now?

Either way, I am so grateful that my pregnancy is allowing me the chance to open this  totally unexplored area of freedom in my recovery that I never thought about or knew was there before.

I don’t think I want to go back to the old way of thinking.

The grey area might not be as bad of a place as I thought it would be.

Hello Life.

 

 

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Hello Life: A Pregnancy Without A Scale

Hello  fighters!

Today marks five years since we’ve been on this journey together, (well really six years, if you count the time leading up to the smashing of the scale), and five years that I have never looked back.

Instead of writing my yearly post, today’s post is actually going to kind of re-launch the blog in a way. Of course, nothing will ever replace our journey of a year without a scale. There is just no way anything ever could come close.

But for the first time since I started this blog, it has finally come time to begin a new chapter.

So, for the next 6 months, and ongoing until it’s time for another new chapter, this journey has now transformed into:

Hello Life: A Pregnancy Without a Scale!

I got married in July, and prayed for a baby for whenever the universe would tell us it was the right time. And I am so excited to say that I am almost 12 weeks pregnant with my first little human soul.

I always told myself that when I got pregnant, I would bring back my blog. And I am so grateful that the time has come for me to do that.

There are so many reasons why I want to do this blog.

First, I know first hand that there are so many of us in recovery from eating disorders that have experienced a pregnancy for the first time and are wondering what the journey will be like.  And while no one persons journey is ever the same, I think we Bring hope with each other’s experiences.

For me at least, and for so many others, this is the first time in my entire recovery that I will be gaining weight and really not having much control over it (other than of course trying to eat as balanced as possible). For those of us in recovery, that is a big deal.

Second, I looked for other blogs talking about this, and I couldn’t really find one.

I’ve found blogs on eating healthy during pregnancy—so so so so , so, many of those. I found blogs on experiencing pregnancy and I found blogs on everything else pregnancy.

But never a pregnancy in recovery from an eating disorder and a pregnancy without a scale.

So, if you are looking for a blog about eating healthy during your pregnancy, this might not be the blog for you. That doesn’t mean I won’t talk about food on my blog, but I don’t think it’s going to be like that.

To be honest, I don’t know what this blog will be like.

I am just going to roll with it.

I know that I will need the support. I already do. I waited this long to blog because I was waiting until the 12 week mark.

But I imagine, just like my Year without a scale blog, it was never just about recovery; it was about life.

And that’s what this is going to be about: life-both mine and this little human soul’s growing inside of me.

Usually my posts are shorter, but this one might be longer just because it has been so long-so I am sorry about that! Next one will be shorter, I promise.

So what is different about this blog this time: I am not going to blog every day like I did with the year without a scale. I think I am going to blog once a week  (I think on Wednesdays) or just whenever I feel the urge so that could mean more than that, but well see.

What is the same as the other blog: It is going to be real and raw. No sugarcoating. No leaving things out.

So, where am I at?

I think I am in the best place in my recovery that I have ever been-and I think that was true even before I got pregnant.

That doesn’t mean there are not and were not hard days, because there are. But for me, it just means that I learned how to find balance between my thoughts, my food, and my actions.

I remember right when I started recovery I had to go to a doctor to do a full work up on me.

He did an EKG, and a few other tests, and I remember him asking me, “So, do you want to ever have kids?”

“Of course,” I told him. (I have wanted to be a mom since I was 5 years old. I was always the mom when I played house with my brother and sister and bossed everyone around. It was my calling).

“You will not have kids if you continue like this. Your body can’t do it,” he said.

At the time, I thought he was just trying to scare me. But his words stuck in my mind-not really at that time, but in later years through my recovery.

I think back to the days where I was so deep in my eating disorder that I would lay in bed at night with my heart beating so fast because it was so irregular asking God to please let me wake up the next day, and that if he did, I would do better.

But the next day was just the same.

Not because I wanted it to be the same, because I was trapped in this world that I myself didn’t know how to get of.

I haven’t even had my baby yet, and I feel so protective over him or her.

The other day a car was tailgating me and I swear I could have pulled over and yelled at them, “Listen buddy, I have a baby In here!!!”. I was so mad!

I’ve realized now, more than ever, how much my eating disorder didn’t just affect me, but my family and my parents. To think of how many nights they spent worrying about something that they had no control over to fix nor caused, can keep me up for hours.

It’s weird to me, for some reason, that all these thoughts came to me lately. But I am glad they did.

It is those thoughts that keep me grounded and that keep me reminded of why I choose recovery every single day.

It is those thoughts that remind me of how sweet my freedom from my eating disorder is.

Sometimes, I need that reminder.

So fast forward to today:

I am almost three months preggo (Wednesday is 12 weeks) and finally starting to show. Although, this is also what I looked like before I got pregnant after I ate a big meal, so sometimes I am not sure if its the baby or if its still a food baby or a mix of both, but I will take it!

Instead of trying to fit into my jeans, I bought this amazing little black stretchy thing that goes in between your belt loops and stretches out so you don’t need to even close your button! It makes your jeans into leggings pretty much.

Why do you have to be pregnant to find such a miracle product? Why can’t we use this on Thanksgiving or big dinners? I see that thing as one of the best forms of self care and will totally use it even after I have the baby.

I have been to the doctor twice now. The first time was just an intake, and I explained the importance of me never seeing the number of the scale.

I know from my friends, how much doctors can tend to emphasize weight when you are pregnant, and how much weight is healthy to gain. I totally understand that.

It can be kind of overwhelming to navigate a situation that is so numbers focused, and then tell the nurse that that navigation style doesn’t work for you.

I asked her if she could please put it on the top of my chart . She said she did.

When I went into the doctor the second time, my husband was with me.

I didn’t even think about it until later, because I was so happy we just saw our baby’s heartbeat and little face- but a few days later I was thought, “Wait, did Brock see my weight?!”

When I asked him he kind of just looked at me with a blank face and said, “Yeah…I was right there…” (I turn around and close my eyes just in case. I also throw out visit summaries where they write it down, AND even look away from the computer because I know they need to enter it).

I can’t explain why, but for some reason, I felt like he knew this huge part of myself, almost like this huge big secret, that I hadn’t known in six years.

No one has known. Not me. Not my family. No one. And if there is anyone in this world I trust to see it, it’s him.

But it was the first time, my “number” had been exposed to someone I cared about.

I didn’t care if a doctor saw it. But for some reason,  I cared he saw it.

Not because I think he would think anything about it because the funny part is, he told me he forgot what It said. And I truly believe him.

I think I care just because for so many years, that number was me. It was my name. It was my worth. It was my face. And now, it finally, just almost lost even more of its value.

Because to him, it held no value. Nothing. Zero.

For me, it still means a lot. And that is the truth. It might not be the five year recovery truth I hoped for-but it is.

But to him, it meant nothing. And I love that. I cherish that. That empowered me more than I thought it would.

I could feel myself asking him things and almost wanting him to give me some kind of answer like, “don’t worry babe-it was a good number.”

Ha! Right? Five years later and there I was trying to get some kind of twisted ED validation! I felt crazy. And yet, I couldn’t stop myself.

Thankfully, he saw where it was going and said, “this is going no where good so let’s stop talking about it.” And I was so glad he did.

That right there, is enough proof for me, that while I am strong in my recovery, I am not ready to see a number on a scale.

I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I kind of wish I Was ready, almost like at this point in five years later, I should be ready for that.

But, I’m not. And I hope I can give myself love and kudos for realizing that and honoring that than the other way around.

Because like I said, this baby isn’t even here yet and I am already super protective. So if a scale is going to even maybe possibly the tiniest bit have some kind of negative effect on my baby- it ain’t happening.

So, I have to admit. Before I got pregnant, I always thought I would be one of those people who ate really healthy during my pregnancy.

I probably thought that because I generally am a healthy eater because I believe in the power of nutrition and what it does for my body.

But, these first few months have been hard on my body.

Most times , nothing sounds good to eat. And the few things that do sound good aren’t exactly on the healthy list.

More days than not, I am actually really ok with that part.

There have been some nights that I tell myself, “ok, that’s it Shira, no more. You can’t eat like that this whole time you’ll become huge.”

For example, last night we went to Chipotle.

I haven’t had Chipotle in years.

I always get some kind of burrito bowl. But pretty plain. Rice, beans, meat, veggies, salsa.

But last night, for I think the first time in forever, I got the burrito bowl , but I added sour cream AND guacamole AND cheese. I know that my fellow fighters will understand my capitols AND’s because that is what it felt like in my mind.

It just sounded so so so so good. And right now, when things sound so bad, when something sounds good, I have given myself permission to just fully enjoy and enjoy every last bite.

But I left there thinking, “Ok Shira, stop. Just because you are pregnant doesn’t mean you can eat like this. Seriously, you need to stop.”

I go back and forth with myself over that.

Part of me is thinking, why did I have to wait until I was pregnant to get a spoon of sour cream, guacamole and a sprinkle of cheese? I feel like that should have been something I allowed myself to have anyway. Not like every day. But if you somewhere once every few years, why not enjoy  it all the way.

The other part of me is still thinking, “ah…that was kind of a lot. Don’t do that all the time.”

And that is the truth.

I wish I could say I had no thoughts but happy recovery thoughts the whole time, but that is just not true and the reason I love this blog and our journeys is because they are true.

On that note, did it stop my night? Nope.

Did it stop me from eating today? Nope.

Is it going stop me from eating ravioli tonight? Nope.

And to me, that is the victory right there.

So apparently my baby likes sour cream, guac and cheese. It’s not the end of my world.

Every day that this precious little soul develops healthy, I feel like it’s one more point for recovery and one less point for the Ed world.

Because at the end of the day, that is what matters.

Not the burrito bowl. Not the number that Brock say on the scale at the doctors. Not the weight gain.

But what matters is that little tiny human life, with a heartbeat and a little tiny soul that is healthy and growing inside of me.

What matters is life, period.

My life, our little soul’s life and last but not least, I cannot forget the stretchy band thing for your jeans because honestly that is as important as life itself.

So, here we come next 6 months of pregnancy and next honestly forever after that, because like I’ve always said, this is a forever journey.

I have no idea what this pregnancy will be like, and have no idea what it will be like without a scale.

But I am so grateful that I have the opportunity to find out, because this is something I have wanted for so long.

Here we go…again, fighters.

Hello Life.

baby pic

Three Year Flashback To When Coffee Was Lunch

Happy Thursday beautiful fighters,

I came across this photo today.

brothers

It’s a picture of my three little brothers that I took three years ago today.  I had taken them out for a fun day of lunch and bowling.

Do you see that cup of coffee to the right hand corner on the table? That was my lunch that day–my lunch and breakfast actually.

I remember that day because I specifically remember every single Ed thought that I had that day. I even remember the jeans that I wore. (I remember because I chose them because they were my baggiest pair).

It was a Sunday so that meant that I was going to my then-boyfriend’s mom’s house for dinner that night. How was I possibly going to go out to a lunch and to a dinner? I remember not knowing how it would be possible to do both.

But I wasn’t going to give up my time with my brothers, either.

So, this was my solution: coffee all day and that’s it.  I remember us sitting at that lunch table and I remember all I could think about was the food. I had one tortilla chip and I broke it into several tiny pieces so it would last me as long as it could.

I don’t remember any of the converastions I had with my brothers at that lunch and I don’t remember what we laughed about. But I remember what each of them ordered because I remember wishing I wanted a bite of it so badly.

I remember every ounce of my time being consumed by Ed and that’s what made me so sad today when I saw this photo.

It reminded me of the heavy and overwhelming thoughts I carried around with me for years when I was suffering from my eating disorder.

It reminded me of the thousands of moments that Ed took from me.

It reminded me of the kind of role model I was for my brothers at the time: the sister who didn’t eat.

My heart has felt broken all day thinking back on that day and the many days I had like it with them and with others.

But at the same time, this photo gave me a chance to appreciate where I am now.

Recovery ebbs and flows, and lately, I haven’t been in the happiest place with what I look like, and while I know it will pass, I needed to be reminded today of how far I’ve come and why I choose to live in recovery.

I would rather spend every single day for the rest of my life fighting to learn to love my new healthy self than spend another second back at that lunch table being a prisoner of Ed.

I don’t want to go into the past two years of recovery and how I got here because I’ve told that story already through this blog over the past two years. That’s not what this post is about.

This post is about remembering where we used to be and never forgetting it.

I feel like sometimes it can be easy to forget where we used to be and focus so much on where we are now. Focusing on where we are is great because it shows we are present- but without remembering the pain of where we once were, we forget how special our recovery is.

It’s also a reminder of the pain and suffering other people who are suffering from an eating disorder are going through right now at this exact moment. If you are one of them, please know that you are not alone in that pain.

For me, this picture will always speak emotions of sadness.

It will forever be the day that I was so stuck in my eating disorder that I don’t even remember what I talked about with my three little brothers.

And it will forever serve as a reminder of how far I’ve come and where I never want to be again.

But to put things in perspective, all five of my siblings were visiting me in Washington two weeks ago, and not only do I remember every single tiny thing each one of them ever said, but we all went out to dinner at a steak house to celebrate Hello Life’s second birthday.

We all got steak, including me.

And we all got dessert, definitely including me.

And coffee was no where to be found.

Hello life.

Celebrating A Year And A Half of Recovery

Hello lifers,

Today I am celebrating a year and a half of being in recovery and of course being scale-free.

Essentially, today we as a community celebrate, as this journey has become the journey of hundreds, not just mine.

Today marks a year and a half that I have not used a number on a scale to define me and it marks a year and a half of Hello Life being alive and reminding people that they are never alone in their fight to recovery.

When I started this journey a year a half ago, I only knew myself as X pounds. That was it. At the time, I didn’t even know what made me happy anymore.

I thought reaching a certain goal weight every week or eating as few calories as possible were elements of happiness.

Originally, I decided to give up my scale for one reason: and that was to break free of my eating disorder. In that moment when I gave my scale to E to hold onto for me , I didn’t know anything about what I was doing or what my journey would hold.

The only words that came to mind when she asked me if I wanted to say good bye to my scale was “hello life.”

And to this day, those two words are the best two words I can use to describe this journey.

But giving up my scale, as those of you who’ve followed this journey from the beginning know, was a lot more than learning how to recover from my eating disorder.

It meant finding out who I was without this number for the first time in my life.

It meant learning how to live without a label. And that didn’t just mean a number label.

There were times in my recovery that I had to use other labels instead of numbers to help me navigate through the gray areas when I wasn’t sure who I was without my weight.

If you remember, I would say I was a sister, I was a daughter, I was a friend, etc. When I moved to Washington I said I was a reporter giving people a voice.

And while those are all true, looking back on this year and a half so far, I can’t think of any label anymore that exactly defines me or this journey.

I used to think that I needed labels, words, numbers, or titles to define who I was.

If I wasn’t a number, I was a career. If I wasn’t a career, I was a family member. If I wasn’t the best family member at the time, I was something else.

I started this journey living life as one label: a number. And I also started it in a hell controlled by Ed, at which many times I felt I had no way out.

I started it with a one year goal that has far passed and yet here I am still dedicated to it.

I started it with a boyfriend who is no longer in my life.

I started it living in California.

I started it thinking that once I gained the weight I needed to gain, my journey to recovery would be over.

Everything I thought I knew I didn’t know. And every label I thought I needed, I no longer need.

My whole life, I was always the one with all the answers.

I had an outline of my life when I was 8 years old, saying what age I would get married, when I would get my first job and when I would have my first kid (which by the way, none of it, and I mean none of it, has occurred according to my grand plan).

A year a half of trying to find out who I am without a number, I can say this:

I am no longer the person who wants to know every answer. And I don’t have the answers.

To have the courage to figure things out as they face me is the truest sense of bravery, I think.

I am discovering that maybe self-love is about having the courage to love ourselves without titles and labels of any kind-to just love ourselves as is-no strings attached.

Six months ago today I reached my one year milestone and I smashed my scale to pieces on video for everyone to see.

I closed that part of this journey not knowing what would happen next, or where I would end up, but only that I would continue to walk the path of self-love and self-acceptance.

That path changes every day.

Some days it means telling myself I love myself in the mirror ten times in a row.

Some days, like today, it means celebrating with champaign and home made tacos with a new friend.

Some days it means taking time to pray and thank God for everything I have.

Some days it means crying because I am lonely or because I am having a hard time.

My point is, my path to self-acceptnace changes day by day, sometimes hour by hour,and to be able to be brave enough to let myself mold with those changes is a beautiful place to be.

When we live in an eating disorder, change is our enemy. It doesn’t even exist actually. We live in routine, rules and rigidity.

I now live in ebb and flow.

I live not knowing what I weigh.

I live with the unknown as my guide rather than my fear.

And I live without labels.

I am not the girl in recovery for an eating disorder, I am not a blogger, I am not a number, I am not a reporter.

I am finally the person who is just figuring it all out. And I like that.

I live in freedom from the grasp of my eating disorder that once kept my spirit, soul and heart isolated from the world around me.

Thank you to everyone for standing by me from day 1 of this journey-thank you to my family, my friends, both new and old, E, and to my girls in the hello life fighter support group-for all of you are my legs that keep me walking this path.

To all of us who continue to have the courage to walk the path of self-love, hello life.

Day 336: Rolling With The Punches

Hello everyone,

So we don’t choose our bad days and we don’t choose life, life chooses us.

It chooses when we face certain issues, it chooses when we face certain destinies and it chooses which battles we each need to fight to make us who we are.

I guess I am trying to say I have learned yet again that we can’t choose the way things happen to us all the time.

So, when I was invited to a totally unexpected dinner yesterday and lunch today with the new guy I am dating, you can see where this lesson was taught to me yet again.

On the day I was really despising the way I looked, I got invited to dinner–a big, heavy, fancy dinner.

And on the day after that dinner where Ed was ready to go crazy on me for what I ate at that dinner-not only do I skip my regular Monday gym session, but I go to lunch (lunch with desserts may I add).

I had to two choices.

One, I could stay in my Ed, anti-social and isolated world, or roll with the punches and just go and get with life’s program, and forget Ed’s program.

And so I rolled with it.

I smiled, and ate, and laughed and was present with everyone around me.

I may not be feeling good about all the food I’ve eaten since yesterday with these unexpected social eating experiences, but I am really proud of myself that I did it.

I rolled with those punches.

I went with the flow.

I did recovery in real life.

It wasn’t what I had planned, which was staying home around my nice and comfortable and safe meal plan.

But, it’s what happened.

In a time in my life where everything from my job status to my body changes to what I will do when this blog is over is so unknown to me, rolling with the punches is the best advice I can seem to give myself.

I guess if we can’t choose our bad days, and we can’t choose what life has planned for us, we can choose to just roll with it.

And on the same note of rolling with things as they come: my Facebook forum didn’t workout.

Either I am technologically challenged or it is just not meant to be, because it’s a public forum and I want everyone to feel safe speaking with each other. So that plan didn’t work.

My next idea is to have everyone who wants to be part of this fighter support group  send me your email, and I will send everyone a group email with everyone’s contact info. We can do a group thread or people can email seperatley with whoever they want.

What do you think?

And as always, sorry if I am repeating myself, but thank you again to everyone’s support yesterday and today. I honestly almost cry sometimes at the beautiful messages and comments you all write, thank you so much.

We are rolling on this journey together, and I am forever grateful for that.

Let’s roll with the unexpected punches, the unexpected dinners, the unexpected issues that are bound to come up with the holiday family gatherings coming up, and the unexpected social eating experiences.

We can do it.

Hello life.

 

Day 335: We Don’t Choose Our Bad Days

Hi guys,

Well, I guess it’s safe to say that we don’t choose when we have bad or good days, right?

I didn’t want or choose for today to not be the greatest day, but so far it hasn’t been.

Do I wish that the day after I celebrated one month left of this journey was a good day ? Yes.

Do I wish that these bad days stopped popping up so randomly? Yes.

And when I say bad day, I don’t mean not eating . At this point in my recovery, eating on my meal plan (at minimum) is just a daily thing like brushing my teeth.

Today, I am talking about the way I feel about my body.

I am uncomfortable in my own skin today.

This entire week has been a battle of being uncomfortable with the fact that I still don’t have a job and it’s caused me to really look at how I define myself and now it’s returned full circle to the battle of being physically and mentally uncomfortable in my own skin.

I can’t choose my bad days, but I know that I can choose my reaction.

To sit here and write that I am going to just smile and move on like I am OK today would be a lie and it wouldn’t be realistic right now.

While on some bad days I can do that, today is not one of them.

But what I can do and will do is accept what is.

I can try to fight this feeling and make myself feel guilty about having a bad day, and feel guilty about all the body checks I did today and feel guilty about the complaining about my body that I’ve done to my sister today.

But why?

Things happen. Days happen. And bad days happen even after good days.

There are a lot of things about recovery that have nothing to do with our bodies, but then there are days or moments where the harsh reality that my body is changing and clothes are fitting differently are elements that I can’t avoid.

So, today is one of those days.

I might not smile and be the happiest of people today, but I will get through it.

I think getting through is sometimes the best thing we can do for ourselves, especially on our bad days that we don’t choose to have.

Here’s to getting through until tomorrow.

Hello life.

 

Day 297: It’s Just A Day-Not My Life

Hi everyone,

What a day.

Let me start off by saying that remember how yesterday I said I felt huge, yet I was able to kind of push it aside and not let it bother me as much?

OK, well today, it’s bothering me a lot more. A lot, a lot, a lot more.

I had a job interview today, which meant I needed to go find my nice work clothes, clothes that I haven’t worn in  a very long time. But ironically, I actually used to wear these clothes when I was not in my eating disorder so I thought that they couldn’t be triggering.

But, they were.

Naturally, I had to try every single thing on; every skirt, every pant, every shirt, just everything. And when the pants that I tried on that used to fit snug on me when I was X amount of weight, now fit me the same way, it made me wonder if I weigh the same now as when I last wore them (not a number I like).

I don’t need to describe this whirl wind of events  that occurred after that because I am sure by now, you all know what happened.

I stood in the mirror and tried to think of what I weigh now and what I weighed last time I wore them and how big I look.

What can I say? I thought about it for quite a while and then I had to go get ready and leave so I just left the thought where it was .

I am still not sure what I think about it, but I don’t like it.

Moving on to my job interview which took place an hour after my mini guess the weight game with myself and Ed.

I was grilled in this interview. Four people interviewed me asking me questions as ifI wasn’t qualified for the job that they had called me in to do the interview for.

No small enough weight in the world could have saved me from that hard interview today . I left there wondering if I wasn’t up to par with  what they wanted in a candidate for this job.

Combine not feeling up to par with people’s expectations of you with feeling huge and trying to estimate my weight a few hours earlier, it’s safe to say that today hasn’t been the most fabulous of days.

However, it’s just a day-not my life.

On to tomorrow.

On to the next interview (ok, well wishful thinking, but let’s hope there will be other interviews).

On to another day where even if I spend all day trying to guess my weight, I’ll never know it.

On to another day of hard earned recovery.

For anyone else not having the greatest of days today, on to tomorrow we go.

Hello life.