Eating Well with a Busy Schedule

A twitter follower and recovery warrior asked me about how to eat well with a busy schedule earlier in the week. It got me thinking about what a very good recovery topic for a video this would be. So, without further ado, I give you a thorough bonus video: EATING WELL WITH A BUSY SCHEDULE.

Eating Disorders on Vacation

Here is last week's video. I was out of state and didn't have a chance to post it.

Taking Your Power Back (From Your Eating Disorder)

This week's video is a half reminder, half empowerment. :)

Mind Versus Body

How can you know what to do? Life can be so crazy and frustrating. It's so difficult to try to get a handle on something as complex as disordered eating. Especially if you've been disordered a long time. It's like a label, a mechanism for survival, and your mind is trapped inside of it.

As usual, I wish had magic comforting words. I wish I could say the things that would make you feel better and be able to do something with the situation.

If you’re really struggling, you don't have to know all the ins and outs of how to eat. You don't have to have this big plan that looms and feels so difficult to achieve. You just have to eat to sustain. It's not a long-term solution, but it's the beginning of one. Sustain yourself. You can worry about re-learning how to eat once you've gotten a handle on eating sufficiently enough to survive. Understand what I'm saying? At the very least, you need to give your body what it needs to function. To "fulfill" might seem tough for you; to "deprive" is much worse. So, "sustain." And when your body begins to thank you for nourishing it, you can let your mind pick up the slack and work on the other issues at hand.

Setting a big mountain of a goal for yourself isn't easy and can be daunting. Set some hills instead.

When you don't eat properly, your mind works against you. That's the best way I can think of to describe it. I always felt that way. It was amazing how much my mind seemed to "clear up" as I got better and better.

Sometimes, when you're at the end of your rope, the best thing you can do is NOT think. Don't think. Just do. Just try to eat. Just try. And deal with the aftermath when your mind is better able to deal with it (i.e. after it's been fed). It's a struggle and you may have negative emotions afterwards, but it's better than slowly dying or making yourself more and more ill...because taking a step backward every day is no way to climb a hill.

It's a lot easier to make yourself feel better mentally once you are doing better physically. You have to make your strongest voice become your true and only voice. It takes a lot of work and perseverance, but you can do it if you really want it. It's okay to have feelings of despair as long as those feelings don't cause defeat. And if you don't give in to defeat, those negative feelings will eventually dissipate.

You're already fighting a battle with your eating disorder. You don't need another battle going on inside yourself. It's already You Versus Eating Disorder. Don't let it be Mind Versus Body too.

Condition Your Intuition

Many of us have heard of intuitive eating. It sounds good. It sounds difficult. It sounds…interesting. So how is it accomplished?

Well, to be able to practice intuitive eating properly, you have to have good intuition. Working intuition.

I was not always good at this. But I am now. It is how I eat.

In order to do this, you first have to really want what is best for your body and do what it tells you at all costs.

As I'm sure you may well know, this can be extremely difficult. If you can't do this or your body doesn't accurately tell you what it wants when it wants it, you are not ready to do intuitive eating that way it needs to be done to keep you healthy.

I've found that a strict meal plan can keep a person in a restrictive mindset--it was always the case for me. You can, however, follow a meal plan that incorporates intuitive eating. That is, one that leaves room for your own desires and inclinations. It's designed to give you what you need, has lots of guidelines, but is loose enough to make you feel comfortable. For example, if a strict meal plan keeps you in a restrictive mindset, a looser meal plan that provides basics to go by (types of things you should always eat) plus some room for playing around with intuitive eating might be the way to go.

The bonus to this approach is that you slowly learn your body, its responses, and are able to listen to yourself without worrying you will go crazy and have major setbacks.

I'm no nutritionist, but I would suggest integrating intuitive eating into a regular food plan so you can get the hang of it and be ready to try it in the future if you're ready and able. There are some who rave about intuitive eating and say it's always the way to go, and there's nothing wrong with it, but it's not for everyone right away. It takes practice. Relying solely on intuitive eating right from the start might not be a good thing. If you eat based on intuition for two days and then review what you ate and your intake wasn't enough to be considered healthy and nutritional, then you need to work on some more things first before using intuitive eating on a daily basis.

But it can be a goal.

As I said earlier, intuitive eating requires working intuition. :)

Advice? Talk to your therapist/nutritionist/parents/spouse and tell them that you are having trouble recognizing the signs of being full/hungry and the other things that go along with that, like poor perception of proper intake, etc. See if a looser meal plan might work for you—a plan where there is space for you to play around with what you eat as you become more in tune with yourself and your body, and as you make your way farther along on the path of recovery. It takes time to learn yourself again. Be patient. Be kind.

Fighting, Facing--and Finally Embracing--Food

Let me take a moment here to talk about food. Yes, that’s right: food.

In the wild ride that is life, some of us seek to find control in food. We use it to make ourselves feel better or worse. We restrict. We binge. We purge. We deprive. We use. Why food? Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? It’s just like anything else—some people use alcohol. Some use drugs. Some use exercise. Some use video games.

Addictions. Vices. Habits. Whatever they are—whatever you want to call them—they can be self-destructive. It takes time, patience, effort, and desire, but we can learn to co-exist with the very things that make us crazy or take us on a downward spiral into pain and emptiness.

There were times in my life I fasted for days, consuming nothing but water or diet Coke. There were days when I’d allow myself a mere granola bar to get my body moving for an entire morning, afternoon, and evening. I had moments of ravenous hunger where I’d eat a salad or a bowl of soup with such ferocity that I was afraid people would notice. Sometimes, as I went between wanting to recover and wanting to wallow in my disease, I’d eat one meal a day—dinner—which was not nearly enough to satisfy my deprived body and mind. I remember summers of living on rice cakes at night after a 12 hour day of work.

I did not have a good relationship with food.

When I taught at the Boys and Girls Club and supervised the kids at lunch time, I would eat my packed lunch with a dedication I’d never experienced before (and it was rough), because I didn’t want to set a bad example for the little girls who were sitting there with me. I wanted to be good and real and helpful. I ate for them.

I remember pretending to go out for food on my dinner break when I worked at the mall and coming back with just a Sprite. I remember obvious habits that caused my parents to scream at me, cry for me, and feel helpless. I used to have a lifestyle that made my room mate crazy with worry. I was obsessively worried about eating in public. I would stand near a counter of muffins, deciding for ten minutes which one I would choose, changing my mind back and forth. I was, in short, a mess.

I came to a crossroads. I really wanted to recover. Really wanted to be all right. Really really wanted it. Wasn’t just wishing, wasn’t just hoping—I was willing to do something about it. I was willing to work, to learn, to try.

I got good at just saying “No.” That’s right: “No.” When I’d feel that familiar grip of anorexia, I’d say, “No.” Figuratively, literally, whatever it took. I was bold with myself—with my disease. I did not take shit. When I was feeling low, I’d do something good to pick myself up. I learned to cope without using food. When I felt myself slipping, I’d say, “No.” I’d push the disorder away, say I didn’t want it, and I’d say, “NO.” Sounds simple, and it is. But you can’t just go about it half-assed. You have to scream it, mean it, use it like a weapon. You’re better than all the crap bringing you down. Remember that and just say “NO” when you feel you’re being pulled in the wrong direction. It takes a lot of willpower. More willpower than it takes to starve.

I wrote. Oh, I wrote. Daily. I used my writing to help me, to save me, to direct me. I stopped using food to control and to deprive. I stopped using food as something mental. I tried to embrace it. It was difficult. I didn’t like it.

Then, I forgot about food. I focused on my eating disorder for what it was without the elements of food. There was so much more to my problems other than food. I mean, come on, food doesn’t have the ability to destroy.

I learned about myself, sought to love myself, wrote about my pain and my feelings, wrote about my struggles. I began to feel better. I began to stop counting. This was tough—to forget about sizes, forget about calories, forget about a number on a scale. I didn’t weigh myself. I had no scale. I did this purposely. It was weird and it was hard. I wanted to weigh myself. But I didn’t have a scale. I kept wanting to weigh myself. It went on, but I had no scale. And eventually, I stopped wanting to weigh myself. It didn’t matter. An inkling of curiosity wasn’t the same as an aching need.

I still don’t weigh myself.

I don’t care now.

You can get to that point—to that point where it doesn’t matter—but you have to work at it. You have to be strong and not allow yourself to give in. And in time you will be okay. You won’t be a slave to a device that conquers your mood and your sense of well-being. And let me tell you, without a number to dictate your daily mood, you begin to listen to yourself and to how you feel without that number. You know yourself as you never knew her before. You feel good. You feel free. You begin to finally see that you feel so good that there is no way you’d ever want to go back to that dark, horrible place you were before. You want out with a passion when before you just wanted out with a desperation.

I was eating. And I was trying not to think about it much. It was necessary, but not enjoyable. I was okay with it as long as I didn’t think on it too long. I had moments of worry and panic, moments of stress and distaste, but I got through. I just plodded through. Food and I were still not friends. But we were no longer enemies.

I trudged on, doing well, but worrying that I might relapse into old ways. I gained weight, but instead of being horrified by the way I looked, I appreciated the curves that were slowly showing themselves. The mirror was—strangely, I thought—more of a friend to me when I had put on some pounds than it was when I was sickly thin and longing to be thinner. I felt good, so I looked good. I was learning to love my body. It was fascinating, liberating, and astounding. I felt like a different person.

I surrounded myself with the right people, I tried to stop worrying about what others would think. This was a big one. I still have to remind myself not to concern myself with what others think. It’s not easy. But it’s possible. If I couldn’t stop myself from worrying what they might think, I tried at least not to spend too much time on it. As I grew to be happy with myself as a person and as a woman, I found that I was content to cook food and eat it. More than that—I enjoyed cooking. And I enjoyed eating what I’d taken the time to make. It took me a while to get over the shock of this.

It remains the same. I like to cook and I like to eat. Yes, you heard me correctly: I like to eat. I eat when I’m hungry. I stop when I’m full. I enjoy letting myself enjoy. I cook for my fiancé (husband in one more month!) and he loves it and appreciates it, which is so nice. He cooks for me. We eat together. We nourish. We’re healthy.

So how can a girl/woman who suffered from anorexia and had such an unbearable relationship with food come to love it and live with it? Well, I just told you. But words on a page are not actions, and the actions are much harder to accomplish than writing the words. And don’t forget that it doesn’t happen overnight. It can take years.

You have to try it for yourself…when you’re ready…but I can tell you one thing: It’s worth it.

Arielle