30 Days to Celebrate

Today is a very special day for me. I have worked tirelessly, relentlessly, and fearlessly for 10 months now. I have had the support of specialists, family, friends, and coworkers. I have attended session after session, group after group, and meal after meal. Bite by bite, sometimes with poise and grace, sometimes kicking and screaming. There have been good days and bad days and really really bad days and sad days and days that I just didn't feel like it. There have been road blocks and migraines and last minute changes in plans. And somehow here we are. 180 eating opportunities. 180 times to face the same fear. 30 days and not one single missed meal. Not one laxative. Not one purge. Not one trip to the gym. 30 days of life. One month of recovery.

I really value authenticity and it would be very inauthentic of me to tell you that this milestone didn't come without plenty of struggles. There were days were I was certain I wasn't going to be able to fit one more thing in my body. There were days when my appearance and body image screamed at me all day long, reminding me of every insecurity. And every now and the  there were also somewhat normal days where I just ate as didn't think anything of it. Those are the best days!

My biggest fear right now is that I've met my goal. I've made it to 30 days. It was a struggle. It was exhausting. So now what? I have to find a way to keep myself from flipping. I have to remind myself that despite my craving to manipulate my body, being nourished feels really great! I have to set a new, realistic, attainable goal. Something that feels like it will be worth celebrating, but still something worth working for...one day at a time.

"One thing we know for certain is that chasing meaning is better for your health than trying to avoid discomfort." -Kelly McGonigal

Recovery means a life worth living. And that's something worth chasing.

The Beautiful People

Beautiful People,

I'll admit, you caught my eye. I stared once and envied your perfectly white smile that was the force of attraction for the world around you. You've found a way to impress this world and fool them into thinking that you have a life worth wanting and, man, do they want it. I can't see your teenage years, but based on your poppy colored blush placed perfectly on your always lifted cheekbones, I would say you were a 10 out of 10 - the boys wanted you, the girls wanted to be you, and your parents definitely loved you. Thank you, beautiful people, for existing. In 10 years, you'll have stories to tell that will become the premise of a rap song or something and you'll probably end up in a low-key famous commercial starring my favorite comedian, but the jokes won't be about you because beauty protects you from the punch lines.

But the punch lines are more like puns and if we back up the story a little that rap song probably wasn't actually about you because the facade of a life you've lived couldn't be captured in a lyric because you were never authentic with anyone. Your teenage years really weren't that great, but you only cried yourself to sleep because it was important to make sure no one knew about the things you hated about yourself. And this attraction that the world has to you just leaves you feeling lonely because no one takes the time to get to know someone that's as stigmatized as you are... Marred by something you didn't choose.

So when you catch my eye, perhaps I can look past my own insecurity and lay down the shield I've created to keep inferiority away and for just a moment ask you to be something other than beautiful. If you were offered an alternative identity, what would you choose? If the people who judged you by your looks could peer into your soul, what would they see? Perhaps beauty isn't actually what you want to be defined by.

When I take a step back I realize that all of these beautiful people have insecurity just like me. The probability that their lives are awesome all the time is low and the probability that they've been through some painful things is high. Judgments based on looks are like trying to describe a book you haven't read so either start reading or stop judging. There is beauty in all of us and our flawed society only allows us to see it in others. But trust me when I say, someone has wished for your life too. "The beautiful people" ... That social class doesn't exist. There are many beautiful people in this world and you are one of them. Read it again, YOU ARE ONE OF THEM.

A Solo Hike

Yesterday was my first, dietitian approved, solo hike.  I can't explain how hard I worked, relentlessly asking and always being told "not this week."  It's discouraging to put in work, week after week, and to always be told no to the things that are important to you.  I knew I wasn't ready the many many times I was asking before.  I wasn't even sure I was ready this time.  I tried it once without permission.  It went terribly wrong.  I picked a 6 mile out and back that was completely up hill on the out and completely downhill on the back (if any of you are familiar with Looking Glass Rock, you'll know what I mean).  I practically ran the downhill.  Only stopped once on the up.  I completed the hike in 2.5 hours and I felt incredibly accomplished.  That is, my eating disorder felt accomplished.  Meaning, Leah had failed.  Miserably.  

This time was much different.  I planned my day.  I chose a gentle, 3 mile hike.  I set an intention to walk slower than I thought was necessary because even if it was okay to keep a quick pace that didn't mean I had to.  I chose to notice things along the way and really take in my surroundings.  I stopped a lot along the way to view different parts of the river, little mini falls.  There was one small climb at the end which I took slowly and never got short of breath.  And then I was rewarded with the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.  It was definitely something from a fairy tale.  And I knew that the universe was saying "well done."  

Then there was a choice to be made.  There was an extension.  An exciting adventure extension that definitely was not an approved level of movement.  It was a rock climb straight up to the top of this beautiful fall.  It included ropes and ladders and all sorts of cool things that make my little kid self get overly excited.  I was more than tempted.  I stared at it for a long time.  A very long time.  I can't explain how much it hurt this large part of me that is consumed so much by an eating disorder that it has just become the eating disorder to say "no, you can do that another day.  This isn't the last time you'll ever go on a hike.  We're going home."  I felt sad, initially, walking away from this awesome adventure.  But the more distance I created, the more I began to take pride in my self-control.  I have a really good friend that I call for help in situations like this.  I don't have cell service in the woods, so I just asked myself what she would say.  COSA would have kept reminding me that, because I'm nourishing my body and caring for myself, I'm more certain that tomorrow is a day I'll be gifted with, as is next week and next month.  I'll have plenty of time to take plenty of adventures.  And it would probably be more fun to share that adventure with someone that I care about.  Today, I'm caring for my body.  That means picnics at waterfalls and gentle hikes with my dog.  But my adventure wasn't any less of an adventure just because I chose to stick to the guidelines I was given.  That made me strong and brave.  I imagined COSA then making a few funny jokes or some puns because she's the greatest for those and then she would have changed the topic because she would want me to get out of my head.  So, that's exactly what I did.

When you're faced with a choice that you have to make all by yourself and no one is around to know whether or not you made the right decision - that's probably the hardest time to do the right thing.  Walking away from something you really want that you know is wrong for you and you know that no one would know about takes a lot of courage.  I can stand on the other side of this experience and say that mustering up the courage is really freaking worth it.  The feeling you get later when you get to share with your friends and family that you stuck to your values and you did the right thing, it's lovely.  The feeling you have in your soul that you know you overcame your own demons and you were in control for a day, that's priceless.

I'm really proud of how well yesterday went.  I'm grateful to all of the supports who've helped me get to this point in my recovery.  I'm looking forward to more mindful woodland adventures.  I know that I won't be perfect every time and that there's always room for improvement, but taking each day, one at a time keeps me focused on being able to conquer that challenge.

When Self-Love Whispers

I was making my breakfast this morning when I caught a glimpse of my legs. The reflection on the refrigerator door made me stop. I turned a couple different directions, checking them out and then I did something that I struggle to do. Something that almost never happens for me. I said "daaaaamn girl!" My legs aren't bony anymore. I no longer have the thigh gap. They're pale like the rest of me. Bruised from my many outdoor adventures. But man, am I in love with them today. I might not like them tomorrow. I don't even remember my feelings towards them yesterday. But today my confidence whispered to me and I can't explain the feeling.

I've been waiting for this day. I've been told it happens but I never really believed it. It's the day that I don't hate everything about myself. The day that I can love a small part of me without starving me. It's here...and that means recovery is possible. That means hope.

So I have some thoughts around all of this that I really just wanted to share with the world...

First, there's no guidebook to life. We've all heard that but I'm finding more and more each day that my process is a strange one and hardly ever makes sense, until it actually makes sense. Figuring out who you are, how you want to be, how to love yourself, or how you want to live, well, there's really no way TO figure it out. I've realized that making the best decisions in the moment has carried me to the best places in life. Sometimes the best decision is to plan. Sometimes the best decision is to let life lead me along. It's okay to not have answers and it's even more okay for all of that to be scary and overwhelming.

Second, even though there's no guidebook, there are survival kits. There's no map of life, but there certainly are tools that will help you survive. Find what soothes your soul. Find what helps you hang in there when you feel like you're at the end of your rope. For me, I need tons of support people, therapy, nature, something to keep my hands busy, and reminders to breathe. My survival kit has changed through the years. I've tossed out the things I don't need anymore and picked up more effective tools along the way. Build your kit and build it well.

Finally, when you reach a peak, celebrate! You'll have lots of mountains to climb and loads of valleys to explore. In those periods of life, you'll learn about yourself. You'll be put to the test and you'll have to learn how to adapt to the situation. But when you finally make it to the top, or even just to a nice viewing point, stop to take a picture. Spend a little bit of time celebrating not only the achievement, but the journey. On a day like today, when your self-love whispers, don't just celebrate the moment, but celebrate all of the hard work that brought you to that moment.

So here's my moment: today, I love my legs. And I'm so proud.

Life After Death - A Memorial

Today is the one year anniversary of my step father's death.  Approximately a year ago, I posted the things that I learned from him in his final days.  As it turns out, I haven't actually stopped learning lessons from the guy.  And that's what I want to share with you today.

1. Do something different.

I watched my mom spend a little bit of time being really really heartbroken.  And then I watched her change.  She didn't know what was right or what was wrong, all she knew was that she needed something different because what she was doing wasn't working.  She signed up for a pottery class, took a trip to somewhere she'd never been, started doing home improvement projects.  Anything that made her feel good, she kept doing.  If it made her feel bad, she moved on to something else.  I'm not sure why we wait until we're miserable to make a change.  We can decide that we want to do something different simply because we want to or because we believe that happiness exists and that we aren't doomed to mediocrity.  So try it.  Whatever it is that you've been thinking about, do it.  And whatever that thing is in your life that you dread doing every day or week or month...just stop.  Give yourself permission to excuse yourself from unwanted tasks.

2. It's okay to be selfish, just not all the time.

We all needed different things when Tim passed.  Some of us wanted space.  Some of us wanted family.  Some of us wanted to be near the things that remind us of him while others wanted to be as far away as possible.  There were those who needed to be reminded every day that he'll never be forgotten while others wanted the thoughts of him to quiet down for just a few minutes.  The fact of the matter is, we all deal with grief differently.  And we all have to deal with our grief.  It was important to know when it's your turn.  Being selfish is completely fine.  You deserve it.  Whether you're the widow or a third cousin's friend, you get to grieve.  But also know that, through this process, you can gain so much from other's grief too.  We were stronger together.  And allowing one another to process what they needed when they needed, kept us strong.

3. Don't show up alone.

My mom has been so brave this year.  It has been incredible to watch her heal (she's still in the process, but every day is progress for her).  I wrote her a letter 3 days after his passing about how important it is to continue to show up for life, even when she doesn't feel like it.  But what I've learned from her is how much strength it takes to say "I can't show up alone today."  You guys, she's really so strong.  She wakes up every day and puts on a suit of armor and goes out to fight life like a badass, then she comes home, takes it all off and still makes time to check in about how my day is going.  She's been stubborn and independent her whole life and she's not the type of person that takes no for an answer.  To watch someone like that do that every day, one day wake up and say "today I need help," well, it's beautiful.  Seeing a strong person admit their vulnerability gave me hope.  It reminded me that it's okay to not be okay.  And I realized what I didn't know a year ago is that, while my mom has it in her to show up, she should never be expected to show up alone.  Show up, do.  But take your supports into battle with you.  If you forget your shield that day, ask if you can borrow theirs.  Let them support you.  Let them keep you safe.  Maybe the next day you'll feel strong enough to fight alone, but if you don't that's okay too.

I'm really proud of my family for this past year for various reasons, but I'm not sure this post would be complete without taking just a minute to remember what we lost.  This will be a hard day for so many people.  I have so much respect for my sisters, who have exhibited an immense amount of strength through this loss.  For their children, who keep his memory alive.  For friends and family from all around the world who never stopped sending cards, checking in with phone calls, or even writing books about how incredible he was.  From our family to yours, thank you.  We love you.  And we appreciate all you've done to support us this year.

Any Reason Not To

I've been thinking about this blog a lot lately and the idea of potentially writing again keeps fluttering by.  Then the excuses compound and "I'll write on Tuesday" turns into "I work a long day Saturday and just don't feel like it" and then the blog just never happens.  But then something happened...And I realized that this blog has given me hope in the past, and right now that's what I need.

Last week was the worst week I've had in terms of recovery since leaving treatment.  I was very honest with my treatment team about what was going on and how hard the week had been and how much I messed up.  I have a pretty firm team and while they were grateful for the honesty, they all had the same question: What's it going to take to get you back on track?  How can we make this a lapse in judgment and not a relapse into the eating disorder?  In a later conversation, I was reminded of the anniversary of my step-father's death.  It's coming and it's coming fast.  I remembered how comforting this blog was to me and my family and to so many of those around us in that time.  That spurred some reflection.  Not so coincidentally, I found that almost any time I needed an outlet, support, understanding, or to feel like I could make a small difference in the world, this blog has been there for me.  I've been feeling like I can't be successful in recovery lately.  Like it's too hard or that I'm a hopeless cause.  So it's clear to me that it's time to make time.

There's a poem I like called "Any Reason Not To" and in the poem, the poet says "because any reason not to is a good reason."  I don't know that I can write my way through every single moment of weakness, but if this blog can be my "reason not to" even just once, then it's a skill that's worked. 

So for today, I just want to tell you a story.

Last week, while at work, I met quite the quirky woman.  She was tall with gray hair and a whimsical spirit.  She was sitting in my makeup chair and we were discussing the importance of sunscreen when she announced that while she agreed sunscreen was important, it wasn't a priority for her.  I didn't question it, I just kept working.  But then she said, "I'm not worried about sunscreen because I look really great in hats!  I love to wear a big floppy hat or something sassy.  And I look so good in them."  I was immediately drawn to her.  This seemed so brave to me.  A woman who wasn't movie star beautiful, a size 00, or the CEO of a company just complimented herself...to a stranger.  And she meant it.  She appreciated something about herself and was completely comfortable with saying it out loud.  

As a society, we hate ourselves far too much.  There's not enough encouraging self talk and far too much criticism.  We create these standards and make beauty this unattainable thing, when in reality, the beauty we all hold is in the parts of us that are already there, not the things we want to change.  So, in sticking with this "any reason not to" theme - what if we found any reason not to put ourselves down?  What if we dug deep and searched for any reason not to compare our thigh fat to the model on the cover of a magazine's thigh gap?  What if we just embraced any reason not to hate our bodies?  What if we just loved ourselves...and what if we took that one step further and actually said the things we loved about ourselves and each other OUT LOUD?  

This idea of spreading self-love, self-appreciation, and self-acceptance can't hurt us, so why not try?