Thanksgiving came, and Thanksgiving went. I had a plan, and then the plan kind of had me. I had a delightful time in the woods by myself, some intimate time with Mike and his family, and then some distracted mental psychosis around food and emotional hunger and exposure and more. My plan was to …
I used to think eating for joy was being a glutton; consuming things I hadn’t in a while, eating more, eating way past capacity. I used to think eating for experience was having a buffet style meal, regardless of venue or company or occasion. Ordering the “worst” thing (most decadent) on the menu, the …
My disease hates when I’m happy. My disease hates when I stray from needing it to tell me my every move, validate my every thought, and rely on it for comfort. Especially when it has to do with my body, the food I put in my body, and people commenting on either or both. And …
See? Doing the right thing always trumps reacting to … anything. Our feelings. Our mood. What’s happening in the perceived version of to instead of for. Corporate politics and drama almost fucking got me today – almost. As salespeople we are feeling a bit desperate as the world continues to spin without us. We’re feeling …
I feel damned if I do, and damned if I don’t. I feel exposed or hidden. I feel arrogant and seeking, or too modest and quiet. I feel confused and defensive, while simultaneously humbled and challenged. Because I forgot that I want to. In July my shin was killing me, to the point that I …
It’s been a few days of total awareness. It started with a walk and hearing my anxiety gain an audible pulse. It started with the remembering of our date night shifting and the attachment that it must mean something. (Please read the actual text: shifting, not what my brain said: not happening). Then it …
I woke up and I knew I was ready to go home. I didn’t sleep quite as soundly, I felt a twinge of anxiety, and my brain was fully awake and driving me wild. I’m rebooted. When I got to the beach on Sunday afternoon, I was done. I ate dinner in bed at 6, …
I forgot. I forgot that recovery – my entire life – is a continuous journey. I forgot that it is not a destination. It is not a place to reach or to graduate or to exceed. I forgot that it is not a permanent feeling, or look, or experience. I forgot. I forgot when I …
It’s true: beating ourselves up for being human just makes it harder. A lot harder. It’s not my fault that I default to thinking I should’ve done something differently than I did. It’s not my fault that I default to thinking I am wrong, or unworthy, or out of place. It’s not my fault that …
I’m calm. I feel balanced. I’m not in a hurry and I’m not attached. It’s somewhat new. I’ve been practicing hard. Not by choice at first, but willingly now. Life is grey, not black and white. Most of my life I have lived in the black and white. The all or the nothing. The best …