The Atomic Grill Saved My Life - or at Least My Evening

The Atomic Grill is the Empire Café of Santa Fe, and I couldn't be more pleased to have stumbled upon it.  The restaurant I had gone in search of was already closed (at 8 pm on a Sunday), and I worried that I would go into a hunger-psychosis if I didn't find something else quickly. Anyone who has experienced my hunger-psychoses knows that they are to be avoided at all costs. Fortunately, I kept it together with a few soothing mantras as I proceeded to get totally lost near downtown Santa Fe. 

I can only assume that a higher power guided me to a vacant parking spot on the street. After checking the menus of two places on that block and deeming them too expensive and too devoid of vegetables, I happened to cross the street toward a park square where I saw twenty-something hipsters hanging out on a brightly lit patio. Something told me it was the perfect spot!  It stays open late, serves breakfast all day (including build-your-own omelets), provides free wifi, employs emo/hipster servers, and offers an assortment of homemade pies.  The Atomic Grill is an Empire Café doppelganger if I ever saw one.  And I loved it!

I was finally able to get a little bit of work done tonight while sitting in the cool evening air on the Atomic patio. I drove from Lubbock to Santa Fe this morning, landing at the Puye Cliff Dwellings 45 minutes north of town, in Espanola. I not only drove into the mountains, I climbed them… or one of them… to see the places in the lava rock-faced mountains where the Pueblo Indians lived centuries ago.  Needless to say, I was bushed.

While visiting the Puye Cliff Dwellings, I dared to also tour the mesa top, where tour guides show you the remains of a Pueblo fortress and take you inside an actual Pueblo kiva. Many Native American tribes use kivas as their places of worship and ceremony. Kivas are large circular pits dug in the ground where the people would come to enact rituals and speak with the gods. The top is covered with wood, and the people dig a small hole in the side to allow the fire to ventilate a bit. It felt healing just to be there—and fabulous to get out of the sun.

I was so high, above the valley, amid mountain ranges and ancient history, with my trusty Pueblo guide to answer all my questions. It brought on feelings I haven’t felt in a long time.

I am thrilled with this day—exhausted but thrilled. I wanted to wander around Santa Fe more and will try to get some wandering in in the morning. But I need to keep trucking if I want to get to Oregon in time for my cousin's wedding.  At this point, I'm not sure what's going to happen, but I do know that I can't wait to see my family in both California and Oregon… and that I'm going to bed very very soon.

Should I Eat the Cookie?

On an online question and answer forum, where people pose questions to the entire web audience, I noticed that someone had asked (essentially), “Should I eat the cookie?”

The number and variety of responses alone was enlightening. It was like reading a transcript of all the voices that compete for my attention when I ask myself that very same question. Eating the cookie can become a debate by committee.

After reading most of the long list of answers, I mused at the number of people vying to offer the “right” answer, knowing that none of the responses would ever be the “right” one.  When the debate begins in my head, I’m often searching for that illusive “right” choice. I’ve been around long enough to know that such a thing does not exist.

The answer to “Should I eat the cookie” is completely irrelevant, because the question itself is the only wrong thing in this scenario.  Why is the question not: Am I hungry?  Do I want the cookie?  Can I afford the cookie?  Is the cookie fresh?

“Should I eat the cookie?” encompasses all of those questions, but it also masks all of them.  When “Should I eat the cookie?” is the question, eating the cookie becomes a test—something that will determine whether we or our decisions are good or bad. 

When we ask, “Should I eat the cookie?”, we bury all of the questions listed above under a moral debate.  However, I tend to think that we aren’t as concerned with burying those questions as the questions we’re more ashamed to ask, like:

Will others approve of me eating the cookie? Will this cookie lead to five more cookies?  Would a “healthy” person eat this cookie? Would a “good” person eat this cookie? Am I a good person?

Instead of hiding the questions you want to ask, siphon through the ones that come to mind. Ask the appropriate questions.  Ask the questions that matter, and don’t hide behind “shoulds.” Admit to the hidden questions and move past them to answer the most important ones: Am I hungry?  Do I want the cookie?

Eating or not eating a cookie does not determine your worth. If the decision of whether to eat it is not a simple one for you, use the choice as an opportunity to ask yourself, “What am I hungry for?  What do I really want?”  The answer often isn’t food…  even though sometimes it is ;)

The Battle Is On

Well, I'm at it again.  If I said I was reminiscing about my time bingeing in college, I would be misrepresenting the current state of affairs. For the past two (possibly more) weeks, the binge has been all sorts of ON.  I am not bingeing every day, nor am I eating all the time.  However, most days, I cross the line.  At least three times, I've completely gorged myself—and not on the low-cal fruit and veggie fare that has become a staple over the last couple of years.  I'm veering more in the direction of my fantasies, the ones I never fulfilled during college—the boxes of cookies, assorted desserts, whole loaves of bread, and more. 

I am completely aware of what I am doing as I do it. I know I'm eating too much, and I usually embark on the binge when not particularly hungry. I know that I am using food for the following reasons:

• Reduce anxiety
• Feel comfort
• Gain a sense of liberation from rules and restrictions

It’s a distraction from the overwhelming amount of things going on in my life.  The vast majority of my life is positive and good.  I feel empowered.  Sure, I feel frustrated with my day job, longing to live without the time constraint of a 40 hour work week. But I am taking conscious steps to one day move into full time writing and music making.  I struggle to remain patient as opportunities spring up around me and as I grow and mature in new ways.  Doors are opening, new people are entering my world, and I am uncovering untapped emotional worlds to investigate and unknot. 

These are all positive movements, but movement requires energy. And if I don’t know where I’m moving, it entails fear.  It’s difficult for me to book gigs, which requires facing rejection and dealing with unpredictable (and often unreliable) human beings.  As I deepen my relationships with others, I trust and am let down multiple times.  I wonder if I really am strong enough to continue to speak my truth and be myself out in the world.  Will people like my music?  Will people be annoyed by me?  Can I ask for the time I need at work?  Will I have enough money to live on?

I eat not only to distract myself and feel numb or slightly comforted.  I eat because I’m afraid.

Food is safe.  Food has been with me in good times and in bad.  Now, as I chart new territory, can I leave it behind? I think that, in a way, the food obsession itself is afraid of me letting go of it. 

I will let go; I will move into my new quarters. Until then, though, I seem to be inching my way along, with the food as a crutch to get me through this initial fear and pain. 

Examining old scars, working to make new connections, and walking through doors is scary but necessary. I do not want to stunt my growth any further with an eating disorder. It’s time to say goodbye.

My first instinct in the midst of turmoil is to redirect, to change course, to figure out what I’m doing wrong and fix it.  I used to think (and still often do), “What is wrong with me that is causing me to binge?”  This time, I’m not changing course.  This time, I believe that the bingeing is not an indication that I am on the wrong track.  It’s a sign that I am on the right one… and that I am afraid.

How I Speak

I speak through food. Yes, I express myself in MANY other ways, discovering more and more as I grow in eating disorder recovery, but I still speak through food. When I can find no other voice, I use food. I use the cooking of it, the consuming of it, the way I prepare it, the place I go to get it, the time and speed of the process, the specific foods that I select (and do not select), and much more to say the unsayable.

Right now, I am also using food to prevent myself from saying something, to prevent myself from feeling emotions I am afraid to feel. I don’t want to admit that I am anxious about one of my relationships. I don’t want to admit how much I enjoy this relationship and want it to continue. At the same time, I’m embarrassed that I can’t commit 100 percent.

I can’t seem to divorce myself completely from the eating disorder—that and all the other activities and people in my life take up a lot of space that I don’t want to give up, even for something as wonderful as what I currently have with this particular person. It would be nice to have a relationship in which I feel complete abandon—to the extent that I would abandon everything else for it. There’s exuberance and freedom in that. But I have yet to experience that.

The desire to preserve myself and my way of life is healthy. Nonetheless, the part of me that wants to go crazy and run blind, headlong into inticing activities or relationships, is whining a little more than I’m used to. I really wish I could let go this time, but I'm following a familiar pattern.

When I allow my emotions to run wild, two things seem to happen. 1) I do ridiculous things and behave in silly ways, complete with emotions that bewilder me. 2) I find myself eating more frequently, taking more care when ordering food to get EXACTLY what I want, and possibly bingeing in my trademark, methodical way. If I cannot control my emotions, then I must feel in control somewhere else. The default choice is food. When I allow myself freedom in one area, I grip the other (food) more tightly.

But it need not be! I have uncovered the pattern and gained awareness. I don’t need food to make me feel special. I can feel special in a relationship and in other activities. Food is not the only avenue to satisfaction. Realtionships do not mean I have to give up food or my means of expression. I have many ways of communicating my needs. Just because I live in relationship with others does not mean that I discard my desires for theirs. My feelings and needs are equally legitimate and deserving of respect and attention, and I can express them through multiple means, even when food is not an available option. I am a grown-up who needs not fear losing her voice or herself.

I have learned many ways to speak my truth over the years. The fears I have of drowning and enmeshing in another person are unfounded. I demonstrate discernment and self-awareness on a daily basis.

The key is to open my mouth. I have decided to start thinking aloud more often. Sure, this could result in weird looks and confusion, but in more cases, it has already led to greater understanding and connection between me and the people I’m near. If others can hear the thought process that their comments or the situation catalyzes, they can understand where my responses come from.

Often, I think aloud after the fact. I try to explain what I was feeling I behaved a certain way by describing the process that went on inside of me. As the other person hears my story, I become less of a mystery and much more accessible and welcoming toward feedback. I feel much less insane when others indicate that they have felt exactly the same way or done the same things. I’m not so alone in my craziness. I’m closer to normal than I realize.

And when I voice my inner turmoil, I need not speak through the cryptic language of food. Of course, there are times when cooking, eating, ordering, or giving food serve as appropriate expressions of love and other feelings. There is space for that in my life, no doubt. But I don’t have to use food all the time. It need not be my go-to for every issue. I can say what I feel.

It’s time to think aloud. It's time to speak with words, not food.

The Joy of Replacing Bingeing

May I say how good it feels simply to come home and NOT BINGE? Sometimes, I have to be reminded of this simple joy. Note that I did not say “come home, exercise, and not binge” or “come home, accomplish a dozen things, and not binge.” I forget that I can choose not to binge and then waste my time in some more (or less) creative fashion. No need to work out every second of the day or complete a single goal I’ve set. I don’t have to jump through hoops in order to ensure sane eating.

The sun is shining, and I feel good. I don’t have to exercise compulsively, I don’t have to binge, and, moreover, I don’t have to do a single thing. Of course, there are certain things it would behoove me to do, but no one will force me to pay my rent or clean my bathroom. I choose to do those things because they benefit my life. In the same way, I can choose to do nothing or even to do things that impact my life negatively. The main thing is that there are a million different ways of doing things, and most, if not all, of them are not “wrong.”

I want to try these different ways of living. I have reckoned a slower, softer side of me these past few days, reminding myself that I can take it slow and still get hungry. I can still accomplish important things, too, and stay in touch with people I love. The main thing preventing me from allowing a slower drift through life is mistrust in myself. I imagine that if I don’t do everything NOW, I may not do it all. But really, I have proven my responsibility, creativity, and capability time after time. Now is the moment to trust the universe and me.

I’ve seen remarkable things happen in the last couple of days. I have taken pleasure in the ways lives of people I know have intersected. They see miracles in their life, and it’s nice to talk about it with them. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m the only one who appreciates such little miracles. But other people do see it and love it as much as I do. And wonderfully, simply by observing or listening to the occurrences in their lives and then discussing them, I become a part of that miracle. It can extend to me, and I can connect with others, even help them.

Observation. It’s an important element of my non-binge time. I can sit and simply observe the world. That action never seems to have much worth until I look back at the convergence of all the things I’ve learned by observing alongside my association with others and things I read. Serendipity is everywhere. Every piece of living is worthwhile.

Anyhow, I mostly just wanted to share the simple joy of a gal in recovery, something I somehow stopped believing at some point during my disorder: I can eat a healthful amount (i.e., not binge and not restrict), abstain from exercise, and still get hungry later. My body really does take care of things! Added bonus: I experience more of life.

Sure, there are many things about food I want to explore and lots of ways I want to push my body in an energetic way. So many desserts, vegetables, mountains, and roads! But how much more is there if I will simply slow down…

Lasagna - Multi-Layered, like Me!

I made myself lasagna tonight. Not a bad first attempt I must say, especially considering that I mishmashed different recipes together until I had included all the elements I enjoy. I'll use less tomato sauce next time (I tend to get overzealous with the 'mato - I love them so.), have a more compact layer of pasta/ricotta cheese/caramelized onions and mushrooms/pasta in the middle, and find a more inventive ricotta mixture.

I love to cook. People struggling with and recovering from eating disorders have a wide range of attitudes toward cooking. Some avoid it; others revel or even obsess over it. Although I didn't cook much during the midst of the disorder, I remember being quite the baker before. I made heavenly cakes, and still can. My ability to follow recipes to the letter leads to that. Perfectionism has a few advantages. Cooking, as opposed to baking, requires a bit more creativity, so I like doing both for different reasons. At this point, my relationship with this expressive art (as I do consider it) seems healthy.

I have endless patience while cooking because it is such a pleasant, meditative time. I love coming up with new, more colorful combinations or getting totally immersed in the execution of a challenging recipe. It's flat-out fun. Plus, I don't mind the taste too much either.

Confessedly, though, I haven’t been trying many new things in the past few years. I still question my ability to control myself around food, and planning meals often feels like obsessing. Plus, cooking can be a hassle I just don’t have time for. Check it out! I’m like everyone else, eating disordered or not.

Tonight was about stretching. I undertook a more involved recipe with a baking time that requires a span of time without eating between the actual assembly of the lasagna and the plating of it. I tend to start grazing while cooking and then just continue on into the meal once it's finished. (I'm great at 30-minute wonders.) But tonight I proved that I could complete a full preparation/cooking/plating cycle without getting full before mealtime. I decided what I wanted beforehand, shopped for the ingredients, prepped, cooked, and ate, all without feeling compulsive. I ENJOYED it. The recipe included challenging ingredients for me, so it stretched me a bit there, too.

In any case, I'm proud of this achievement. A lasagna, I know, simple. But I'd been wanting to do this for weeks, if not months. And lately, I'd been fantasizing about it more.

Usually, constant fantasizing about something means I need to look into what the obsession is about. Is the fantasy leading me somewhere good or somewhere harmful? For me, food fantasies can be either.

In this case, I shied away from the fantasy because preparing this kind of a meal (with lots of prep-work involved) requires an extended focus on food. And I don't need help focusing on food! I always fear that cooking that sort of meal will lead to an increased food obsession in me.

However, I am examining my food more closely lately and trying to take chances. By cooking what used to be a complete no-no food for myself, I worry that it might lead to a binge. However, the case more often than not lately has been that eating a fear food DECREASES my binge urges. It may increase my anxiety, but I usually am able to put the fork down. This is what happened tonight. I feel fine. I stopped. It tasted good, but the meal had a beginning and an end.

I am slowly dismantling the power my fear foods once held over me. After many successful lasagna meals and similar patterns with other fear foods, I know the reality and liberation that results from diminishing their stronghold. Reintroducing foods like lasagna takes a while, but I am usually able to succeed. In the beginning, I often try to make the food "safer" by choosing certain ingredients, or I'll make it myself before attempting it at a restaurant (or vice versa, depending on the nature of the fear). I usually freak out or stop short of eating enough to be satisfied a few times before I get really comfortable. But my comfort level with the food typically increases naturally. If I'm having difficulty getting over a specific one, I pray for moments when I'll be forced to stretch. Usually, I get what I ask for (a challenge from the universe I usually have to accept begrudgingly and with much fear).

This has only been possible in the last few years of recovery. For a long time, I felt no desire to include no-no foods in my diet. Eventually, though, I saw that my anxieties were inhibiting me. At parties, at restaurants, in moments when nothing was available but a fear food, I found myself weak and disappointed in myself. I decided that reintroducing these foods would enable me to feel freer about food and my body in general. I would also be more likely to get the amount of calories needed to sustain a healthy weight.

The urge to eat these foods has come back slowly, and I still display marked resistance to certain items. But countless foods have moved into my consciousness over the past few years, things I want to try. And by acting on those visions responsibly, instead of just ignoring them and starving or bingeing on “safe” foods, I have become a far healthier and more relaxed eater.

My fantasies typically guide me toward the next food or activity I want to try. Yes, I added activity. I follow this same pattern with anything I fear - or I try to. I decided a couple of years ago to start living based on faith instead of fear. A treasured friend once told me how she had started examining her decision-making process and day-to-day living by asking herself, "Am I acting out of faith or out of fear?" She decided to make choices that required faith instead of avoiding things that caused fear. I now challenge myself to the same test. Following faith has always acted in my favor.

I am not talking about rushing into rash actions simply to fly in the face of fear. When acting impulsively, reasonable caution can be mistaken for fear. To rebel against that caution is not the same as looking at a situation and determining what will take more faith.

Do I always choose the shaky path of faith, wading through a boggy field of fear? No. But I try to go that way.

Right now, I'm admittedly afraid. Eating the lasagna was an attempt at finding strength. Afterward, I feel content but also an undercurrent of trepidation. I don't want to start bingeing, gain too much weight, or sit here forever alone, eating lasagna… The fears run deep – to issues seemingly unrelated to food.

Why are these fears coming up? Well, I may address that in future posts, for lasagna is not the only fear-inducing fantasy I have actualized in the past few days. I broke up with my boyfriend - my best friend - last weekend.

To clarify, this was not a couple-month fling blown out of proportion by my romantic mind. We have been together long enough to develop something remarkably special. If anything was meant to be, we were.

Although I recognize that breakups are a typical kind of tragedy, it hurts and brings up many issues for me. I knew it needed to be done; the persistent fantasies of breaking it off indicated that. Nonetheless, making healthy choices can be difficult. Trusting myself to be alone can be difficult. To still love someone but not want to be with him anymore hurts, as I'm sure most of you know.

But that's for the next post. No doubt that I use food to express my feelings and care for myself. For now, let's just be proud of the lasagna-enjoyer over here!

Admitting the Truth

When I sit down to eat, I sit down with myself. It has been a long time since I had a bowl of cereal - a simple concoction of grains and milk, maybe some fruit or cinnamon added for pizzazz. I just finished eating one. Delicious. I was hungry.

For months, I've been attempting to sate this hunger within, a hunger fueled by long bike rides, walks, and all my daily energy expenditures, with fruit and energy bars. I eat more than four or five times per day easily. I eat all the things I feel comfortable with. But it's never enough. I don't WANT to eat the things that will help me sustain my weight. I don't WANT the high-fat and/or high-calorie foods I've long avoided. But in order to survive, I have to start asking myself if I should try these foods I don't want, just to see if I like them enough to reintroduce them to my diet.

I'm living on the teetering edge, it seems. That's how I feel. My mother commented this weekend that I was looking thin. She asked if I was doing anything about it. I told her, honestly this time (as opposed to many years ago when I never really tried), that I was working on eating more, that I am working on eating until I am satisfied. The only difficulty with this lately is that I never feel satisfied. I want so much more than is normal. And I believe this is because I am underweight. Of course, my mom is the only one with guts enough to say it aloud, perhaps because she's one of the few who understand the havoc this disorder can wreak. That is why, instead of doubting her (For who can help but doubt the over-protectiveness that comes with being a mom?), I'm believing her.

Admitting this now scares me. I want to be a normal weight. I know that the thoughts about food and the focus on food diminish when I eat enough and reach a healthy weight. But I have yet to fully step over the food hurdle. I have broken through with many fear foods in the last year. But it's time for more. I long for FULL recovery, and that takes "risky" moves sometimes.

Right now, I'm just below where I want to be weight and diet-wise. Notice that I said, "where I WANT to be." It's no longer about where I NEED to be. I have no answers to the question of where I should or need to be. I am not at a dangerous weight or doing anything monumentally perilous with food. Where I need to be is with my healthy desires. I am wise enough to know what is best. I believe that. I get more and more in touch with that part of me every day.

Let me outline the main points of this difficulty:
1) I am underweight.
2) I think I would be more beautiful/healthier/able to think more clearly if I were at a higher weight.
3) I must eat more in order to get to that higher weight.
4) I must be willing to eat foods that I have some anxiety toward in order to consume enough calories to gain weight.
5) I am still afraid of those foods.
6) I still have some worries about actually being bigger and staying that way (loss of power, loss of "special-ness").

So there it is, laid out as simple as day. My goal is to think more clearly and feel better. How does that happen? Gain weight. How does that happen? Eat enough. How does that happen? I must be willing to eat until I am actually SATISFIED - and this includes eating foods I am uncomfortable with while trusting myself to know when to stop eating.

I also have to realize that I am special without this eating disorder and powerful without being thin. I am unique and strong in and of myself, regardless of outside markers.

I want the food obsession to end. And until my body knows it is out of a physical danger zone, I will naturally, biologically focus on food. It's time to end this!

In light of my new goals, changes have to be made. I have made so much progress over the past decade, especially in the past four years, with this eating disorder. I must let go of it as an obsession to make room for the other things that wish to occupy my mind, like music, writing, friends, and general exploration of life. Right now, I tire myself out, and all I can think of is consuming food and then expending the energy I take in.

I have moved. I'm settled in, both in my new physical home and in recovery. It's time to release control.

This is not as simple as eating more. Or maybe it is that simple, but it's still not easy. It means letting down strongholds I have built up that dictate when I will eat, what kind of food, in what location, in addition to how much. It also ties into notions of my body and if I am willing to release the thin, childlike one I have for one more appropriate for my age and stature. I wouldn't mind looking more like a woman than a girl, would I?

Society approves of my current weight. I am no thinner than a typical movie actress. But I am thinner than I feel is optimal. I can tell. I hate looking in the mirror and thinking, "I look like a high schooler." No. I want the strong, sufficient woman on the inside to shine through on the outside. More food would give me the energy and appearance to do that.

So I am also bucking society. I have to do what is right for me. It means resting more and listening to my body, trusting that it knows how to take care of itself. I can enjoy food while not overindulging or restricting all the time. I don't have to be a tiny size to be loved or successful. I will find success that is not based on superficial things. And I will be focused and sharp enough to pursue my dreams. Food will not distract me from my goals.

Creative expression - musically and in my writing. Helping others with eating disorders or depression. Loving those around me. All of these are worthy goals. And I want the stamina to achieve them. I still want to ride my bike and rock climb and walk and swim and do all the active things I do. I have made huge strides in putting exercise in its place. Now, it's time to see what lies beneath my resistance to new foods. It's time to release control. It's time to let my body be my body as I let myself be me.

All these things seem like Eating Disorder Recovery 101 to me. But sometimes I have to work my way around, through all the abstract concepts and underlying factors in my eating disorder to get back to the plain truth: How I look and what I eat ARE components of this, and I must use all the deep emotional and spiritual work I've done to combat what lies on the surface. I will win, and how I feel physically will be an expression of that.

Come with me.