Every time a family event looms on the horizon, I’m forced into mental gymnastics: how to enjoy myself without pushing too many buttons of self-loathing.
My mind floods with thoughts of how much BETTER everyone around me is eating, how they’re saintly nibbling chia seeds, or “running off” their indulgences with 10ks, or going completely raw (#ugh).
Your entrée into this realm of the elite can be jarring, which is why we’ve convened to help you through it.
The belly wakes up first: it needs the most protecting. After all, this is where a kind of magic happens.
Self-criticism is common to us all, and if we’re constantly comparing ourselves to dubiously ‘perfect’ humans we’re only fueling that fire.
Like a curious child who’s just discovered the versatility of wondering “Why?” the shadows will keep creeping in until, eventually, you can’t avoid them.
The constant anxieties I’ve already been facing on a daily basis ramp up, increasing their volume just enough so that the struggle is noticeably worse. I’m not eating less now, only beating myself up more for what I do consume.
Traveling with an eating disorder—whether you’re in the thick of it, in recovery, or consider yourself recovered—is a loaded move. While non-ED-afflicted humans rejoice in the opportunity to let loose, indulge endlessly, and take a break from the treadmill, I find myself panicking for weeks (if not months) beforehand.
I’m not sure what convened the other day to tear the disordered gauze from my eyes, but, on an impromptu shopping trip, I managed to see myself in a more realistic light. And, in that light, I saw a sexless, hollow creature with nothing to grab at or touch, someone who looked like she was once again becoming a shell of herself.