Post-Thanksgiving Thoughts
As a kid, when people would ask what my favorite holiday was, I would say thanksgiving. For one, I wanted to be different, so while most kids my age would have Christmas or Halloween on their minds, I liked to think I was spicing things up by favoring turkey day instead. More significantly, I loved that day because it was filled with connecting with the family I didn't often get to see and I enjoyed celebrating the start of the Christmas season. Everyone would cook and contribute to a fantastic feast that, if we were hosting, my mom would being preparing for days in advance. I loved having my family over to my house because it felt like I was able to share a piece of myself with them by merely inviting them into my home. In these times I would be joined by other younger kids at a separate table, always secretly longing to be with the adults. I don't remember that much about the food in my early years other than the classic funfetti cupcakes and pillsbury holiday cookies my aunt would bring for dessert. I wasn't fixated on the kitchen and I didn't feel consumed by the thoughts that came with a negative relationship with food. That day was more about the social gathering and celebrating the season of giving.
However as I grew older and my relationship with food became more complex, the daunting thought of the household buffet served on these occasions fostered a growing sense of dread in the the pit of stomach. I feared what I believed was the inevitable, the loss of control I strived to have over what I put into my body. I would experience an inability to redirect my attention to anything but the delectables always feet away from me. I would eat, and eat, and not want to eat anymore but continue to indulge in everything around me. This is not to say that overeating is inherently bad! If these behaviors were because I truly was listening to my body and I was having cues of hunger or pleasure from eating, there would be no issue with becoming overly full for these occasions. But I was eating out of compulsion. I wanted to stop eating because I was full and I wasn't enjoying the food anymore. I was also experiencing immense guilt and shame for eating what I did. An almost fail-proof indication of a negative relationship with food. I anticipated these feeling and soon began to fear celebrations such as these. It didn't apply to all social events or food festivities until probably the last year or two. While in school I began avoiding events where I knew my drug of choice would be available for grazing. You can see pretty clearly how, especially in college, this would foster isolation.
Food is such a large part of culture, but unfortunately unhealthy attitudes toward food are as well. I want to be able to partake in this part of life and be present while doing so. Food has consumed my mind for years now, robbing me of memories and moments while I was too worried about when I would allow myself to eat, how much, and how much I would hate myself if I didn't stick to my plan. I wanted to use this thanksgiving as a starting point to being more present when around food. I didn't specifically iterate that before hand, but reflecting on my preparation the week before, this is what I had in mind. I intended to allow myself to eat what I wanted to eat and forgive myself if I did overeat. Something I also hoped I would have the opportunity and courage to do was to talk honestly about what I have been up to the past six months. I wanted to even be slightly aggressive in combating the food myths that fumed through the air next to the pumpkin pie and stuffing. I cannot report much success on this intention, but this won't be the only opportunity I will have to try to debunk some of the most widely accepted beliefs that exist in our society, so I am not too disappointed. So what did happen this thanksgiving?
The day begin with an early commute to my aunt's house in College Station, TX. Immediately as we walked in there was a cooking frenzy in the kitchen as one would imagine. Something I was proud of myself for was that instead of isolating with my sister and staring at my phone screen to avoid any potential uncomfortable social situations, we both sat at the bar with my family as some cooked and others congregated near the kitchen. I was as engaged and present as possible while the meal was being prepared in front of me. I tried to ignore the unsettling fear in my gut and my restlessness as my knee bounced up and down below me. It was only around 10:45am and something I still sometimes struggle with is eating my meals before I am "supposed to" according to ed's interpretation of my meal plan. I was relieved when it was asked of my sister and I to run to the store and get more pecans for a recipe. This relieved a lot of my anxiety by just being able to get out of the house with someone I was completely comfortable with instead of staring at the food to be served for the next hour. When it was time to plate our meals, I was a bit overwhelmed. There were so many dishes and so many of them that would count as a starch for my meal plan. I felt vulnerable to ed and maybe avoided some of the dishes that I perhaps wanted to try but distanced myself from out of fear, reverting back to old restrictive tendencies. After eating what was on my plate and feeling satisfied, I suggested a short walk down the street with my sister, I wanted to get away from the food, but I was also proud of how the day had gone so far. I took another walk after coming back inside with my sister with another Aunt who pushed my grandfather in his wheelchair. I really enjoyed getting outside and simply spending time with them, for it makes me appreciate the bliss of being alive. Now at this point it had been about two hours since I had eaten my food and then a piece of dank pecan cheesecake. I wanted some more. My sister expressed that she also wanted another helping, and I used this as support as we ventured into the kitchen together. I had another piece of cake, and another, and unfortunately ed slipped into my brain when I thought I was doing the most recovery-minded thing: eating when I wanted to eat.
I had a very vivid and clear thought from the unhealthy part of my brain, from ed. As I was grazing in the kitchen while most of the family had wondered into the front yard, I heard a dare. A dare from ed that said, "I bet you could finish that pie even though you are really full already and I BET you can get away with purging in the bathroom before everyone comes back in the house". I already was feeling really guilty for eating what I had, so as soon as I heard this thought I didn't even have a split second to use a skill to combat it before I was shoving the pie in my face and going to the bathroom as strategically as I could. I was ashamed. I was ashamed but also validated. Ed consoled me and told me I had done the right thing and that if I hadn't done the behavior then I would be facing existential loneliness. I couldn't talk back to him right then, but I could use my actions to show him he was wrong. I removed myself from the house and joined the crowd outside. I laughed and played and talked with my family. I was able to forget the food indoors and connect with those surrounding me in that moment. Like I said, it wasn't a perfect day, but there were some recovery wins that I recognize and applaud myself for.
I did something before leaving that I knew I probably shouldn't have looking back on it. I disguised it in my head as something positive, and maybe in some ways it was. But I also knew my own limitations enough at that time to where there were also some ill intentions in my motivations. I asked to bring home an entire untouched pumpkin pie. I wanted to have it to eat normally, but I also, deeper down, wanted it to binge on. My eating disorder was getting bored of the foods we had readily available at home and needed something interesting to change things up. It gave me too much power in the next couple of days to binge on that pie and purge it in every slight window of opportunity I could. Maybe it wouldn't have been that tempting had I not gone clothes shopping the next day.
Like I have mentioned before, I really like shopping and clothes. I couldn't just ignore the ads on Black Friday, especially for Plato's Closet. I picked up a friend and headed there to see if there was anything exciting I could get my hands on. I have been going to Plato's Closet for years now. I am pretty familiar with spending too much time in the store and in their dressing rooms. I have some pictures in those rooms from years ago that (admittingly) I should probably get rid of. Hence, I probably should have been more cautious and deliberate in making a plan of action for trying on clothes. Because I didn't think to do this in advance, I allowed myself too much time in front of the mirror. I got sad, and then I got mad. A microcosm for my emotions over the next couple of days in reaction to this trip to the store. Initially I was sad. I was sad because I had let down ed. I looked too much like one set of pictures I have in those dressing rooms and not enough like another. I felt like a failure and for some time I wanted to go back to the months when I had my eating disorder at my disposal with no one to tell me any different. When I started to fantasize about how that would look like in my current circumstances, all the memories of feeling enslaved my the bathrooms, isolating, wandering the streets at 3am trying desperately to find food with no money in my bank account came flooding back. I shut down the fantasizing. I got angry. I looked in the mirror again and asked myself, "why does my changed appearance make me think I am a bad person?" And, "why is my weight a barrier that is stopping me from seeing myself as beautiful?" I realized it wasn't my doing. I didn't ask to see myself as unworthy and less than because of my weight and food intake. I was given covert messages throughout my life subconsciously tricking me into believing this so that the diet industry can make a profit off of my feelings of inadequacy.
When people are told to change their bodies to "improve themselves" and "feel better about themselves", they are taking away a message that the way that they already are is wrong. That they must be "fixed". They will search for cures and remedies (ex. diets and weight loss products) that abuse the negative feelings they have toward themselves by using those feelings as a gateway into a cycle of self-hatred. Diet industries promise to "fix" this self hatred. When this promise falls through, which it will, the person is on to the next program or diet that promises success. It is a profitable cycle for companies, producing these health myths, and a miserable one for those participating in it. Thinking that I was tricked, and in a sense, abused by this system of calculated self-loathing pissed me off. In fact, it pissed me off so much that for the next few days whenever I was thinking of using a behavior and I didn't want to do anything to help myself not engage in it, I thought of this and followed my meal plan in spite of people who would argue I need to work out more. In spite of people who would tell me ice cream everyday isn't good for me. In spite of all those who know fucking nothing about true health but who just want you to spend money on their products that DO NOT WORK.
All I can say is how dare they. How dare they take advantage of me, my friends, my family, and anyone else who is hurting. Don't let them do the same to you. They don't deserve your energy, for it is much better spent learning to spit in their faces with your own self-love and acceptance. Easier said than done, I know. It's hard as fuck, actually. But if you could just try to remember the next time someone tells you or you hear that you need to change your body to better yourself, that it is just someone brainwashed by the diet culture and they likely don't even know it. Recognizing it is an important first step in fighting it. Help me fight it.
I did something before leaving that I knew I probably shouldn't have looking back on it. I disguised it in my head as something positive, and maybe in some ways it was. But I also knew my own limitations enough at that time to where there were also some ill intentions in my motivations. I asked to bring home an entire untouched pumpkin pie. I wanted to have it to eat normally, but I also, deeper down, wanted it to binge on. My eating disorder was getting bored of the foods we had readily available at home and needed something interesting to change things up. It gave me too much power in the next couple of days to binge on that pie and purge it in every slight window of opportunity I could. Maybe it wouldn't have been that tempting had I not gone clothes shopping the next day.
Like I have mentioned before, I really like shopping and clothes. I couldn't just ignore the ads on Black Friday, especially for Plato's Closet. I picked up a friend and headed there to see if there was anything exciting I could get my hands on. I have been going to Plato's Closet for years now. I am pretty familiar with spending too much time in the store and in their dressing rooms. I have some pictures in those rooms from years ago that (admittingly) I should probably get rid of. Hence, I probably should have been more cautious and deliberate in making a plan of action for trying on clothes. Because I didn't think to do this in advance, I allowed myself too much time in front of the mirror. I got sad, and then I got mad. A microcosm for my emotions over the next couple of days in reaction to this trip to the store. Initially I was sad. I was sad because I had let down ed. I looked too much like one set of pictures I have in those dressing rooms and not enough like another. I felt like a failure and for some time I wanted to go back to the months when I had my eating disorder at my disposal with no one to tell me any different. When I started to fantasize about how that would look like in my current circumstances, all the memories of feeling enslaved my the bathrooms, isolating, wandering the streets at 3am trying desperately to find food with no money in my bank account came flooding back. I shut down the fantasizing. I got angry. I looked in the mirror again and asked myself, "why does my changed appearance make me think I am a bad person?" And, "why is my weight a barrier that is stopping me from seeing myself as beautiful?" I realized it wasn't my doing. I didn't ask to see myself as unworthy and less than because of my weight and food intake. I was given covert messages throughout my life subconsciously tricking me into believing this so that the diet industry can make a profit off of my feelings of inadequacy.
When people are told to change their bodies to "improve themselves" and "feel better about themselves", they are taking away a message that the way that they already are is wrong. That they must be "fixed". They will search for cures and remedies (ex. diets and weight loss products) that abuse the negative feelings they have toward themselves by using those feelings as a gateway into a cycle of self-hatred. Diet industries promise to "fix" this self hatred. When this promise falls through, which it will, the person is on to the next program or diet that promises success. It is a profitable cycle for companies, producing these health myths, and a miserable one for those participating in it. Thinking that I was tricked, and in a sense, abused by this system of calculated self-loathing pissed me off. In fact, it pissed me off so much that for the next few days whenever I was thinking of using a behavior and I didn't want to do anything to help myself not engage in it, I thought of this and followed my meal plan in spite of people who would argue I need to work out more. In spite of people who would tell me ice cream everyday isn't good for me. In spite of all those who know fucking nothing about true health but who just want you to spend money on their products that DO NOT WORK.
All I can say is how dare they. How dare they take advantage of me, my friends, my family, and anyone else who is hurting. Don't let them do the same to you. They don't deserve your energy, for it is much better spent learning to spit in their faces with your own self-love and acceptance. Easier said than done, I know. It's hard as fuck, actually. But if you could just try to remember the next time someone tells you or you hear that you need to change your body to better yourself, that it is just someone brainwashed by the diet culture and they likely don't even know it. Recognizing it is an important first step in fighting it. Help me fight it.
Glo
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