---

An Answer

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A friend asked a really good set of questions on the "What's Eating Me?" post.  He asked, "I've heard you discuss this behavior as self-protective in the past, and I've always been puzzled by that terminology. How is it self-protective? Against what (or whom) are you protecting yourself? Are there healthier alternatives available that will give you the same - or at least adequate - protection?"

That's a really good set of questions and I'm going to see what answers I have. The specifics are different for everyone, but eating disorders and other addictions in general are about control. In my case, it hearkens back to my high school years and even before when my entire life was controlled by my parents. I really never felt like I had any kind of autonomy and this was the way I exercised that for myself. They really did try to control my eating as well, but I found some pretty ingenious ways around that - like breaking into the locked freezer in our basement. Yes, they actually locked the freezer for the specific purpose of keeping me out of it.

I could go round and round with the blame game but that also doesn't serve a purpose any longer. It all just is what it is and I'm trying not to hold them responsible for choices I've made as an adult.  I'll be honest - some days I still get very angry about things I remember, but I also remember that they did the very best they could.  They never set out to hurt me - in fact I know that pretty much everything they ever did was what they felt was in my best interests.  Sometimes that makes it worse because how can I be angry at someone who made choices they thought were best for me? It makes me feel like a horrible and undeserving daughter.

So...back to the self-protection issue because I've really not answered that yet.  The shortest answer is the strangest - I protect myself from being hurt by hurting myself first.  My brain follows a twisted and convoluted logic that is often paradoxical.  I don't want to enter the labyrinth because there's a 50/50 chance that there just might be a minotaur at the center, so if I hobble myself at the outset then I never have to face that possibility.

My eating disorder provides me an excuse.  "Well, it's not really ME they've rejected, it's my weight, which is clearly changeable, and I could change it any time I want to, so that proves that I don't have to."  QED.  Make sense? Yeah, not to me either, when I'm in my right mind, but when I'm immersed in my disease, this is a perfectly logical train of thought to me.  In the end, I'm really terrified that someone - anyone - will reject ME, not just my weight.  As long as I have the built-in excuse, I don't have to face reality - I can just live in that fantasy world where it's all the fault of my weight, not my choices.  This is what Attila and I have been battling over for so long.

As for what are the healthier alternatives....  I'm not sure that "alternatives" are what I'm looking for.  What I'm looking to do is combat that thinking altogether, not replace one bad choice with something a little less bad.  First, I need to be able to recognize these thoughts for what they are when they come up.  It's not as easy as it sounds because these thoughts are the disease speaking, and it's good at disguising its voice to make me think this is my good, solid logic speaking.  Once I've recognized it, the second thing is to understand that these thoughts are, principally, lies.  The next step is to combat these lies with the truth about myself.  Then...believe these truths in the moment.  This is the trickiest step because that voice is still there insisting that these lies ARE the truth - but I know they are not.  I am not an ugly, horrible person.  I am a nice, kind woman who has a lot of amazing and wonderful friends who are my friends because they LIKE me, not because they want something from me or because they pity me.  (Yes, all these things are actual lies my disease tells me.)  Sometimes I'm good at combating that, sometimes not, but every time I fight back, I get stronger and my disease gets weaker.

Does that answer your question?

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Another Diagnostic Moment

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So tonight I'm having a few similar feelings to last night, but not to such extremes. My dinner was much more controlled than last night, but I recognized an urge that I can't remember recognizing before. Once I had eaten an appropriate plate of dinner, I went back to get the remaining portion of mashed potatoes. I realized as I was putting them on my plate that I could and should wait for a bit before having seconds so that my body could adjust to what I had already eaten. Immediately on the heels of that thought was the recognition that I did not want to wait because I was afraid that I would hit my fullness point and would not get to eat the mashed potatoes.

Why fear? I don't understand what I'm so afraid of. I have never wanted for food in my life. I was not deprived either as a child nor as an adult. I cannot understand this pathological need to fill my body with food to the detriment of the rest of my life. I want to know what drives my need because maybe if I learn that I can figure out how to stop it.

I know, though, that the answer lies not in the comprehension, but rather in the obedience to what I know to be right action driven by God's will in my life. It's hard for me to stop myself and ask God if this is His will for me right now, but I have to begin to do it. The funny thing is, the very need to ask that question generally indicates that I already know the answer, but I don't like it. Here's the kicker: neither God, nor OA, nor Attila have ever told me I have to like it; in fact all I have to do is do it.

---

What's Eating Me?

---

I wish I had an answer for that question. Eating the way I did today makes me feel less than human. I'm really outing myself today and laying my vulnerability bare here by talking about the specifics of what I ate, which is not something I usually do to this degree except with my most trusted inner circle of friends, but maybe I can learn something or help someone else learn something by bringing my secret bingeing out in the open.

Lunch was leftover sesame chicken (about half a standard Chinese restaurant serving, sans rice) followed by a soup bowl of homemade chicken and noodles. I knew while I was eating the sesame chicken that it would be sufficient on its own. I knew this, and yet there was this odd fear in my gut - a feeling that somehow it would be insufficient and that would be A Bad Thing. My gut, however, couldn't tell me anything about why it would be A Bad Thing, it just did its utmost to convince me that my only path to survival lay in pretending I hadn't recognized my knowledge.

And so I did. In effect, I ate two lunches. This does nothing to convince me that I know what a proper portion size is, which was the topic of my latest conversation with Attila (my therapist). It also does nothing to convince me that I have any means at my disposal to actually defeat this ugly disease.

I followed the same foolish path with my dinner, only it was lemonade I filled up on, having not realized quite how thirsty I was until a large glassful had gone down. The funny thing is that that's a trick used by many dieters - drink a glass of water before eating so you will feel full faster. Ironic, seeing as I didn't want to feel full so I could eat whatever I wanted. Musta been the rebel inside me because I did it anyway and am really pissed at myself for it. I ate 3 mutantly enormous cheese-stuffed mushrooms, a bowl of baked potato soup, a large garlic cheese-stuffed chicken breast (and as if the cheese were not enough fat, the chicken was lightly breaded and fried), asparagus, and a mountain of mashed potatoes. I ate all but half the mashed potatoes.

I'm still unhappy even sitting here writing about it, but all I can do now is pray for God's forgiveness (done), try to forgive myself (or at least not beat myself up about it), and use this as a "diagnostic moment" as my nutritionist calls it. I can think about what moved me to do this today, pray about it, and plan for the next time I feel like this - for when I feel that need to eat past my levels of comfortability and fullness; past that knowledge that this is not what is best for me, not what I need, not even what I really want. I need to plan to think about what hole I'm trying to fill and find a healthier way to fill it. I did try to think about this today, but I was all too willing to do what was comforting and familiar - the behaviors I've engaged in for the past almost thirty years - the very behaviors that no longer protect me the way they I designed them to do.

What's eating me? I am.

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Perspective

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I've been under siege for the last couple of days. It hasn't been anything earth shattering; just a constant barrage of small, irritating arrows fired in yet another spiritual battle. Some of those arrows - OK, many - have found their mark. My skin is spiderwebbed with tiny, stinging cuts. None of the individual arrows has been enough to stop me in my tracks, but when I start adding up all the little slices, I start to feel the pain:

• Running late after work with no time for my planned dinner.
  
• Having my deposit held for 7 business days (though I need the funds now).
• Experiencing transmission trouble on the highway.
  
• Doing laundry solo.
• Washing only two loads of laundry because of a broken dryer button.
• Getting home later than I wanted so I wasn't in bed at a reasonable hour.
• Waking up to a lovely cold morning with light snow flurries!! (No, wait - that was a GOOD part!) a dead car battery.
  
• Losing my wallet with my AAA card.
• Finding that my AAA card is expired anyway.
  
• My car battery not keeping a charge even after my neighbor jumped it.
• Paying $250 for car work that did not fix the problem.
• Waking up to a dead car battery, verse two.
• Going in to work 2 hours late for the second day running.
• Having to replace my alternator to the tune of $400.
• Having my credit card declined because I forgot to transfer money from one account to the other so I can't get my car until tomorrow morning.
• Having my eating completely off schedule all day.
  

Well, that's most of it. Like I said - nothing earth shattering, just ... a really bad couple of days.

Yesterday, when I recognized I was dealing with spiritual warfare, I called my friend Blondie. Blondie is truly a Godsend. An amazing lady with a wonderfully peaceful presence, she reminded me straight off that God is right there with me. She reminded me that I need to turn that worry over to the God Who carries me through all things. I was reminded of a favorite Bible verse:

"Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God, and the peace that passes all understanding will keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus our Lord." --Philippians 4:6-7, paraphrase

I've kept that in the forefront of my mind and have recited that many, many times over the last 2 days.

Then something occurred that put it all in perspective.

A 28-year-old new mommy - a friend of a friend - had a massive heart attack while working out. She was taken to the hospital where it appeared she was brain dead. Her boyfriend and family have been preparing their goodbyes. As soon as I heard about this, I put urgent prayer requests on my facebook page: "Her chances of survival are impossibly slim, but we are the people of God and we know that, in the words of Max Lucado, 'He still moves stones.' Please pray for an outright miracle. With God ALL things are possible." In moments several folks had joined me in prayer.

It was Gideon all over. Remember him? God worked it out that Gideon's meager army of 300 water lappers defeated an army of well over 100,000. The reason? He wanted to prove beyond all doubt that this victory could only belong to God. He wanted there to be no question at all that He alone wielded Gideon's sword. Um, wait. Did I say sword? My mistake! There were no swords - only trumpets. God defeated an army of 100,000 + sword-wielding men ... with trumpets. Seriously. Does that leave any question as to Whom that victory belongs? It's absolutely unbelievable - impossible, even.

Or is it? This grieving man brought their baby girl to see her mommy, and her mommy ... woke up. Such a simple, yet unquestionably profound event. She simply woke up. The miracle we prayed for happened! In His omnipotent sovereignty, our ineffable God can and does do anything He chooses - His might is limitless! He took a situation that was completely outside the realm of human control and brought it to an amazing conclusion for the benefit of His children.

I am a woman of faith, and yet I find myself amazed at this result. I am a bit abashed at my amazement. I prayed for this result, yet even I did not truly expect that God would save this young woman. Oh, foolish me!

And yet I look at these minor irritations in my day - the car trouble, the cash flow, the little blips that don't even register on the radar - and I have the nerve to complain. I have the nerve not to trust that my Father, who held and healed the broken hearts of this woman and her grief-stricken family, will bring me through these momentary hassles. I repeat - Oh, foolish me! He brought Lazarus back from the grave, yet I worry about how I'm getting to work in the morning.

So. Perspective, anyone?

Yeah. Perspective. I haz it.

You know what? I choose to shift my perspective on each of these events in my life. I choose first, to see them as only minor irritations, not life-changing catastrophes. And let's go one step further: I choose to be grateful for each of these events, including the car trouble. I choose to see God's protection in that. He ordered it that I would experience these troubles here at home rather than in three weeks when I'm traveling through a probably-snowy Iowa. He ordered these events so that I would take stock of my finances; so that I would remember that life is about much more than having the perfect Christmas dishes; so that I would be reminded that my car is a gift, not a birthright. He ordered these events so that I would grow closer to Him - so that I would always be reminded Who has already won any spiritual battles I might encounter.

And that's what perspective is all about, Charlie Brown.

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Girl on the Couch

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Some months ago I read Girl on the Couch: Life, Love, and Confessions of a Normal Neurotic by Lorna Martin. It was an eye opener.

p. 46: "...[W]hat I liked to call spontaneous and adventurous was really nothing more than reckless and irresponsible."

p. 47: "Do I value my life so little?"

p. 48: "Impulse drives the inner brat. Spontaneous people are flexible and like to do things on the spur of the moment. Impulsive people take spontaneity to the extreme. They are ruled by their inner brats. They don't think about the consequences of their actions. They can be naive, like children."

pp. 58-59: "...[T]he client's experience of psychoanalytic therapy was rarely easy or smooth."

p. 59: "For therapy to be effective, the client needed to be unsettled and challenged."

p. 65: "It's not pleasant discovering you're not the person you thought you were."

Conclusion: Therapy should be a disorienting experience.

Dandy. ><

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Christmas Peace

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So I had a hard time at church this afternoon.

I pulled in to my sister's house at 1:40 with ten minutes to spare to change for their Catholic Christmas mass (I'm Lutheran, but I go to church with them because I want to be with my family). We get there and I have to walk in in the sleety rain with no umbrella and we parked way out.

Then, we get in the church and my nephew's father-in-law is ushering. He seats my sister and her husband in the pew with all the rest of my family - my nephew and his wife and their little guys, my niece's sister and her hubby and kids. There's no room for me.

Their pews are not squish friendly because they have barriers halfway down, so I get stuck back 2 rows on the opposite side of the church in the middle of strangers. After driving all morning to be there to be at church together, I am separated from my family by a gulf that felt so much more than physical.

The people in front and behind them had only 3 people in a pew built to accommodate four fannies. The people behind them said they were saving a spot for someone. Right. This person mysteriously never showed. In my opinion, it was completely rude. They clearly knew that we were family and just didn't give a crap.

Being across the aisle in the midst of strangers made me feel isolated, not cared about.... Silly maybe, but it brought home with Windex clarity the fact that I am alone in my world. I no longer have my mother to be my foil, my partner, my best friend and that grieves me to the soul. My sis tried to come sit with me but I wouldn't let her. She should be with her hubby and son, you know? I didn't want to split them up just so I'd be not alone. It would have felt really selfish to me and I would have had an attack of the guilts.

I couldn't help it - I started crying. I cried through the first half of the service. I knew Sis felt bad, but what could she do? It wasn't her fault. But there I sat on Christmas Eve, the most wondrous, joyous night, and all I could do was cry. I just sat realizing that I am completely ... superfluous. They were a complete family without me and I ... am not a family on my own.

It just hurt so much to recognize that.

When I told my dear friend Oregano (name changed to protect both the innocent and the horribly guilty - you'll have to figure out which one he is on your own) this later tonight, he responded, "Hon, you've got your own kind of family. We're your family."

Lord bless the man. He's right and I know it, but the family he speaks of is built from an online community of wonderful, loving people. Many of us have met in person and we are valuable to one another, certainly, but they are not HERE and it wouldn't disrupt their daily lives if I disappeared off the planet. I know if something happened to me they would mourn, but in very realistic terms, I am superfluous - peripheral, maybe - in the lives of everyone I know, online and in real life, including my own blood family. Not negligible, necessarily, but not intrinsic.

I did try to put my big-girl panties on and deal with it, and I mostly did because I reminded myself that the purpose of being in church is NOT being together with my family, but rather worshiping the God I love and serve and glorifying His name. Thus, I shook it off for a while, until I came home and started recounting the tale to Oregano this evening and then I cried through my mascara for the second time today. (Memo to me - buy waterproof mascara.) I kept telling myself earlier - it's NOT all about me. There are plenty of lonelier people in the world, and plenty of people who can't even visit a church on Christmas because Christianity is illegal in their lands. But there I sat revisiting the awful feelings I had in the church.

Sometimes just saying or writing things makes all the difference - sharing that awful feeling inside. It makes me feel so much less alone.

Oregano told me to "keep smiling." Right. Can't always smile on the outside when it's not true to the inside, you know?

And then it spilled over afresh, and the tears came anew and I realized I wasn't over it. I was bruised and lonely and hurting, and that's NOT trivial and I had no need to feel embarrassed, even though I did this afternoon. But it washed over me in a great wave and without thinking, for once in my life I did the right thing.

I looked up and said "I have to take this to You, Lord, 'cuz ain't nobody else can fix it. No one 'cept You." And then came the peace. The peace that passes all understanding. It was there and it filled me. And even if I cry with grief for my mother, I don't have to cry for my own loneliness. I am loved by the Lover of my Soul, my Father and Creator. And on this wonderful, beautiful, sad, joyous, sparkling Christmas, that is all I need.

I pray that each of you receives all the miraculous blessings of this holy season.

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Goodbye

---

I have been moved more than I thought possible by this last two and a half hours of remembrance of the life of Michael Joseph Jackson. It has been an elegant ourpouring of emotion and love, celebration and grief from the family and friends of this remarkable man. I was doing just fine until Jermaine sang Michael’s favorite song, “Smile,” from the Charlie Chaplin film, Modern Times, but when he choked up, I felt the tears. He wasn’t the only one who was choked with emotion. A very emotional Brooke Shields gave a very tender personal tribute, clearly remembering not a celebrity but a very, very dear friend and confidant. Her sense of personal loss was poignantly clear. She painted a picture of a boyish person who laughed and loved life and saw the good in the world. She clearly knew the man and the boy behind the legendary fame and reminded us that no matter how the world saw him, he was just a person. Thank you for that, Brooke.

Michael’s brothers all wore yellow ties and sported a single spangled glove on their left hands. A Gospel choir sang Michael in with a solemnly fitting “Going to See the King,” and provided subdued and appropriate backup to a number of performances. Maya Angelou wrote a very fitting poem and Stevie Wonder composed a blues piece which he sang with a slightly wavering voice. These people made their tributes to Michael in the venue they know best – and they did it with elegance, dignity, and respect. Magic Johnson spoke of fried chicken and Berry Gordy talked about Michael as a father would. Even the Reverend Al Sharpton spoke with grace and without an obvious political agenda about Michael’s contributions to black society and the world. The musical tributes were more subdued than I expected, and included new arrangements of several of MJ’s works – like John Mayer’s rendition of “Human Nature,” in which the electric guitar took the part of Michael’s sweetly pitched vocal line. Unexpected, and I believe it would have pleased Michael greatly.

The sweetest, most touching, and most tragic tribute came at the very end of the memorial when his beautiful daughter Paris spoke just a few words to let the world know that he was the best daddy in the world and that she misses him very much. Janet gathered her into her arms and comforted her as she burst into tears. Such a strong little girl in such a grown-up world. Her fragile little heart was shattered, and that grieves me most of all.

The most fascinating and important tributes, however, had nothing to do with Michael Jackson himself, oddly enough, and I can’t seem to shake the impact they must have had around the world. I heard the name of Jesus spoken or sung frequently throughout this service, and maybe that’s why God took this broken and resilient genius at this time in his life. This service glorified Michael Jackson, yes, but it also glorified the God and Father Who gave Michael the drive to be a humanitarian and a caring soul. God, and His Son Jesus were glorified through the words of the Gospel pieces, Lionel Richie’s song and in the words of Jermaine Jackson, among others, and that makes me very, very happy. There was meaning in his death, after all.

“There’s nothing that can’t be done if we raise our voice as one.”

--Michael Joseph Jackson, 1958-2009

Amen, Michael. Amen. Rest in peace, and may God bless you.

Goodbye.

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R.I.P.

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“It feels good to be thought of as a person, not a personality.”

-- Michael Joseph Jackson, 1958-2009

I'm of two minds about the public memorial service for Michael Jackson. MSNBC keeps talking about how it's getting close to "showtime" and that there are performers, including (possibly) members of his own family, which makes it feel sordid instead of respectful and reverent - but is that my own prejudice speaking out? Who am I to put a restriction on anyone else's expression of grief? I simply pray that it will be a celebration of the life of a remarkable, if tortured, man and that it will be respectful and sincere rather than self-aggrandizing. I pray that tributes will be tributes and not self-promotion. I think I’d like to see folks singing his music rather than their own.

One of our librarians put it well when she called it a "cultural event,” which is how the media is viewing it as well. They're so fascinated by all the celebrities who will be attending/performing, and quantifying the number (30) and type (5 Rolls Royces) of vehicles in the motorcade as if an ostentatious display of wealth indicates a greater outpouring of love than 7 guys going to their best friend’s funeral crammed into a ’78 Olds because they don’t have gas money.

I guess it’s the spectators on the street and those watching by TV that interest me the most – our voyeuristic society at its worst and best. Are they truly there to be a peripheral part of a mourning public? Have they fallen prey to a false sense of grief brought on by the iconic celebrity status of the deceased? Are they there to be part of a global event? Are they there to watch grief and catch a glimpse of celebrity? Do they really care, or are they caught up in a mob mentality?

I can’t fault folks who simply want to be a part of a truly global event, myself included. There is an internal drive in all humanity which longs to be part of something greater than ourselves, and this international phenomenon will certainly unite countless individuals around the world even if it’s just for a brief moment. That is a powerful desire in our spirits, to be sure.

So I will be one with my world and take part in an event that is larger than myself.

---

Bravo

---

I applaud the very classy Elizabeth Taylor who will not be attending Michael Jackson’s public memorial, stating, "I just don't believe that Michael would want me to share my grief with millions of others. How I feel is between us. Not a public event." Bravo, Ms. Taylor.

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Redefining

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(This note was penned by Mandy Moore (no, not THE Mandy Moore). The only edits are for punctuation and capitalization. :)

The closer you get to recovery the scarier it may be to leave your disorder behind. Remember you have a full self and you DO know how to be satisfied and happy - without the guilt of your old behaviors. Emptiness is just an illusion - you are inherently full of ideas, thoughts, emotions, love and wishes. You were meant to love yourself and accept love from others. Look at old pictures
of when you were young - you will see it! Trust others that want to give you love - you do not have the right to judge negatively what others meant to give you as positive!

Recovery is not an "if," but a "when": you are by nature introspective, self-aware, intelligent. You are not destined to feel shame, disgust, or fear. It's time to start moving away from old definitions of yourself and writing your own. By replacing your old thoughts and behaviors about yourself with positive ones, you are taking control of your life. You are saying that no label will define you - you are believing in your right to be free of judgment and pain. That is the right you were given by God - in Christianity it is not your place to disown that. You believe in recovery, because recovery means you are taking control of your life, and not letting previous habits control you. And isn't control over your life what you are really seeking in the first place? Challenge yourself to own your recovery. it does not happen to you - you are working to claim the happiness that you deserve every day. I know you can do it! I believe in you!

---

Girl of Glass

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Photo: "Shards" by *ether
(from deviantart.com).

is a fragile piece of glass afraid of its invisibility
as i am?
in my mind i know i am loved yet
in my heart hides a scared lost little girl
so fragile, vulnerable,
afraid of losing
that precious love, that belonging
ashamed she does not deserve it but
scared of being pressed aside unnoticed
forgotten in the wake
of a real girl
prettier, brighter, gentler, sweeter,
more vivacious, sparklier, smarter, happier,
more alive
twirling around the floor in her shiny dress
drinking in all the attention
showing me as dull and drab and unimaginative
and i am convinced
once again
that i am so much less than others
so easily bypassed, forgotten
and dismissed.
i quiver in fear.
i am so afraid to be ignored.
my courage flees.
i am afraid to tell you i crave your attention
afraid that will run you away
and i will cease to be.

Photo: "The Invisible Girl" by Michael J. Armijo
(from redbubble.com).

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The Balancing Act

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Fractal print: "Feelings" by Titia VanBeugen
(from deviantart.com).

This post started out as a response to someone else's blog posting on anger and the subsequent comments. You can find the original post and comments (I'm Diva) on Joyce Lee's blog.

The participants were discussing anger and how to live without it in their lives, but as I read along, I realized that what they were discussing was really what I would call reactionary behavior; not the feelings - the emotions - of anger, but rather the behaviors that often accompany it. Reactionary anger is very different than responsive anger. Reactionary anger lashes out; responsive anger seeks resolution. In reactionary behavior our emotions rule our actions; in responsive behavior our spirit (our wisdom) rules our actions.

Lots of folks seems to consider anger as a "negative" emotion, but that's a misperception. Emotions simply are - they are neither positive nor negative. We may not like how some of them feel in our bodies and spirits, but they are God-given and we need to embrace them, live with them, and work through them. That is “responsive” (and responsible) behavior.

Emotions are nothing more than gauges. They are highly intuitive and impart to us valuable information that we need to know. We have a responsibility to ourselves to listen and really hear what our emotions are telling us.

You walk into a room and suddenly you find yourself feeling sad. Why? What is it about that situation that brings out sadness? If you can identify the source of the feeling (hint: it’s probably something long past), you can work to resolve it and get back to the business of living.

Someone cuts you off in traffic and you get enraged, pounding on your steering wheel and shouting obscenities. Why? You know you've done the same thing yourself and probably will again. What is it about this situation that triggers such anger? If you can identify the source of that anger, you can seek a resolution and next time you’re in that situation, your actions will likely be less reactionary and your emotion less intense. Now you are regulating the gauge instead of it regulating you.

When you feel a strong emotion - not just anger, but any emotion: happiness, anger, sadness, loneliness, fear, etc. - explore it! Don't just take it at face value or bury it because you don't like it. Sit with it and let yourself really feel it for a little while. Usually it means that there's some unresolved issue in your life, sometimes even in the far distant past. Caution: when you're exploring it, don't let it become your sole focus. That's just as unhealthy as ignoring it. Find that middle ground - that balance.

Anger is no different than happiness. It's simply an emotion. We are the ones who charge it as "negative" or "positive." Truly, without anger, we have no motivation to change injustices, to rework unworkable laws, to find and punish criminals, to live a balanced life.

What if your child were molested? Would you feel anger at the molester? Would you consider that anger to be “bad?” Would you seek to put it behind you and move on?

If you did that, I would say you were deeply in denial about the issue and that you would need some very heavy-duty counseling to work through that intensity of emotion. In this circumstance I would consider intense anger – rage, in fact – to be an emotion perfectly fit to the disastrous circumstances and your powerlessness over them. You have to allow yourself to feel that anger, and work with it before it can release you from its grip. Anything less is burying it – which is just as unhealthy as dwelling on it. Burying an emotion does not mean that you stop having that emotion or that you are “at peace” or “balanced.” In fact, that is a misconception about peace, in my opinion, and a sure-fire way of UNbalancing yourself.

A peaceful person does feel anger (and other intense emotion), and does not deny it, push it aside, or bury it. The peaceful, balanced person recognizes that anger/emotion, investigates it thoughtfully, then digs up the courage to work on the issues it reveals. Sometimes those issues are incredibly painful, but you cannot live a life of wholeness without working through the rough parts. If you do, it's no different than a surgeon who closes up a gangrenous wound without cleaning it out. Just because you stick your fingers in your ears and say "lalala I can't heeear you!" doesn't mean it's not there.

What happens when you leave it untreated is that it festers and begins to infect the whole body. That is what happens to a spirit that does not confront whatever issues place them in the path of overly strong emotions. You will find that unresolved anger coming out in other ways, like the road rage I mentioned above. Unresolved emotions demand your attention with increasing intensity over time until you find that your every action has become reactionary rather than responsive.

A healthy life is lived in balance. That means experiencing all parts of it - good, bad, and indifferent – and working with and through those parts so that you can become a truly whole person.

In short:

• Emotions are neither positive nor negative.


• Emotions are a gauge and you need to be willing to listen to them.


• You must be willing to investigate and feel your emotions to reveal their source.


• Once you have revealed the source, you can seek a resolution to it in some fashion.


• Choose responsive behavior rather than reactionary behavior.


• Peaceful, balanced people feel intense emotions from time to time, but they treat them in a healthy manner.

It's a tough balancing act, but I have faith that we can do it!



People all have expressions
Upon each and every face.
Yet you are like a canvas,
A blank one, without a trace
Of any emotions appearing upon
The surface that I see.
You are about as readable as
A water drop in the sea.

- tiannangel from deviantart.com



Print: "Tightrope" by Vera Brosgol
(from gallerynucleus.com).

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Sam Levenson's Beauty Tips

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Many thanks to The Yearning Heart for the correction - this poem was a great favorite of Audrey Hepburn, but written by Sam Levenson. Audrey read it to her grandchildren, and clearly took it to heart in her own life. Her beauty was far from surface only. I strive to be like La Belle Hepburn.

For attractive lips
speak words of kindness.
For lovely eyes
seek out the good in people.
For a slim figure
share your food with the hungry.
For beautiful hair
let a child run his/her fingers through it once a day.
For poise
walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone.
People
even more than things
have to be restored
renewed
revived
reclaimed
and redeemed
never throw out anyone.
Remember,
if you ever need a helping hand,
you will find one at the end of each of your arms.
As you grow older
you will discover that you have two hands
one for helping yourself
and the other for helping others.

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The Body Image Bear

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Today I happened upon a Crosswalk.com Women's article called "Wrestling the Body Image Bear." Holy crap that struck a nerve. It's an amazing article about women and physical body image and how it affects their marriage relationships. As a single woman I don't get that part so much, but I surely could identify with the whole concept of feeling undesirable and ugly, yet having someone love me because of or in spite of those things - looking at the real me.

I've been very, very blessed with a wonderful community of friends who remind me daily that I am a beautiful woman. They remind me that beauty is who a person is, not what she looks like. Beauty is a product of love, and if that's the case, then considering all the friends who love me, I am the most beautiful woman in the world.

I have a God who places my worth above rubies. He showers me with blessings and gifts that I cannot begin to thank Him for. He loves me with an everlasting love and He designs all things for my best. Even in a situation as bleak as Monday's, He can bring beauty out of that ugliness. He has given me back my voice to speak words of pain and healing and power so that the evil done to me cannot rule me.

As I was researching images to use to illustrate this article, I came upon a blog called "fat feminism" which I plan to read religiously. The woman who writes it calls herself a "Rubens Woman," referring to Paul Rubens, the famous painter of curvaceous, voluptuous, larger-than-life beauties of a time long past. On her blog I found an article, "Spock Does Fat," about a wonderful photography collection by none other than the inimitable Leonard Nimoy. The collection, "Full Body Project," is online and fabulous.

My favorite photo is at the bottom of this page. It is a wonderful shot of sexy, vibrant women who are beautiful, joyful, and unashamed of who they are. I want to be that. I want to BELIEVE I'm as beautiful as these women. I want to BELIEVE I'm as beautiful as my friends tell me. And you know what? One of these days I will.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find a stairway and dance.

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Primal Scream

---

god is a son of a bitch
with a sick and twisted
sense of humor

i am too fat
for the people
who study fat people
i have no worth
and they can't see me

numb numb numb
numbnumb
numb
dead inside
screaming in my head
sound with no words
a shell echoing
my skin a shroud
an animated corpse
flesh sans anima
undead

what game are you playing
how many arrows will pierce
my armor

i died
and my body doesn't know it
yet

---

There's been a lot going on over the last six months. I have had periods of great joy and fun - like going on a cross country adventure with an internet friend whom I'd never met in person. We had a BLAST! I met Dave Barry, met a whole bunch of other internet friends and just exhausted myself with fun and pleasure. I didn't know I was gonna need such a storehouse of it to draw on.

More recently I have had a prolonged period of great despair, depression and grief. My mother died ... (I don't think I've written that just that way yet ... deep breath ....) My mother died September 1 of an acute attack of pancreatitis with renal failure. I have now survived the very worst day of my entire life, barring the death of a child or spouse. In fact, my mother was very much like my spouse in that she was the person I always went to first for everything. Her death has left a gaping, raw wound in my life and it can never be filled. Not ever.

Let's add insult to injury now, shall we?

I had my group therapy last night and it was going so well. I felt like I was getting so much out of it. Then our therapist (who is also my individual therapist now) mentioned that right as group was finishing, we were going to have a graduate student come in to talk to us about a study of binge eating disorder she was doing for her doctorate. It's a study on the brain's reward recognition system for binge eaters because there's been some indication lately that whatever makes up this system in normal eaters is lacking or missing entirely from binge eaters. I was so psyched because binge eaters are the stepchildren of the DSM IV. Or maybe it's V or VI now. Anyway, we're given really short shrift in the psychiatric community and I can't help but think that there's still some stigma, even among eating disorder specialists, that what binge eaters are lacking is simply discipline or willpower. That is not the case.

Anyway, I was so excited that finally someone was doing some work in this arena and I was really excited at the possibility of being a part of this survey. It would mostly consist of an interview and an MRI taken while engaged in two games with monetary rewards with the purpose of mapping the neural pathways used. Then she dropped the bomb. Participants have to have a BMI between 30 and 40 to participate. I was crushed and felt utterly humiliated - I was stunned because once again I was simply inadequate, incompetent, worthless. Here I was being given a chance to do a study on fat people* but, oh, so sorry, honey - you're too FAT for it. SONOFAFUCKINGBITCH!!!!! I mean WHAT THE HELL? You come into a group of eating disordered patients, get their hopes up and then tell them they're not QUALIFIED for your STUPID study?! What kind of a moron ARE YOU?!?! You claim to have six years' experience working in this field and yet it NEVER OCCURS TO YOU that you are preying on the minds of extraordinarily vulnerable people?!

(OK, so it's really not a study on fat people. There are plenty of folks out there with BED who are not fat like I am fat, but that's how I felt upon hearing this, so that's how I wrote it.)

Honest to God, I was completely numb for about 5 minutes. I knew that I was upset, but I didn't know how much. I did manage to ask why the limitations and learned that the MRI machine can only take a body so big and still have room to maneuver. THEN WHY NOT DO YOUR STUDY AT A LOCATION WITH AN OPEN-SIDED MRI so that you can actually serve the population you claim to be studying?!?! At this rate you're only going to get moderately overweight folks who will suffer from BED in conjunction with restriction and/or purging. How can someone suffer from BED alone without being my size? Maybe my view is narrow, but I can't see how that's possible.

I was furious, but well beyond that I was HURT. The adjectives that exist to describe the intensity of the pain that ripped through me over this are perfectly inadequate. I am well aware that I have extremely intense feelings, but I make no apology for that fact. As Monk would say, it's a blessing...and a curse.

By the time I realized how much pain I was in, I was in the car and driving away. I was WRACKED with sobs to the point I couldn't breathe. I had to detour into a parking lot and just sit there while I raged impotently and screamed and beat the ceiling of the car with my hand. It was some minutes before I was capable of anything remotely resembling rational thought.

One of the things we learn in therapy is that all emotion is the same - it comes, it peaks, it passes. Period. So I let myself ride the wave, as overwhelming as it was and as much as I felt like I was drowning in pain. And indeed that pain was made far more intense by understanding that the person with whom I would have shared it is no longer with me. My mother, my confidante, my best friend. My Significant Mother. I wept and wept for that loss as well.

How's that for a hideous fucking day?

Eventually, the pain did begin to recede, much as waves at the shore. They roll in until high tide comes and erases all the beach in its path, then it gentles and rolls out and each successive wave comes in a little less far than its predecessor. So it is with pain. We cannot live on a steady diet of pain any more than we can live on a steady diet of celery. We have to have joy to balance the pain, and that also comes in waves.

Today I am angry. The hurt is still there underlying the pain, but today I can work with it instead of feeling like an overused pin cushion. I will call my therapist. I will talk with her about how I felt about this. And I will tell her what I need from her, starting with an apology.

There is great embarrassment and shame in admitting to the depth of my emotion, but at the same time there is great empowerment in telling my story. Thank you for letting me.

No, I am not insane. Yes, I have issues - BIG ones. Yes, I am working my way through them. No, I am not generally violent. No, I am not as private a person as perhaps I ought to be. So be it. I apologize for nothing.

Pardon me while I comfort the beast chained in my heart.

---

Lessons from the Grave

---

We buried my roommate's sister today. Nancy was a lovely, loving woman who smiled constantly, and I don't mean a simpering "Mona Lisa" smile; I mean a big, broad grin. She loved Jesus and she loved talking about him. She would tell you all about her Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and she meant every word. She honestly had the faith of a little child.

Nancy had cerebral palsy since birth. The last several years she lived in a nursing home and was confined to a wheelchair. Her right arm was virtually useless, and her vision was fading. It didn't matter - she smiled and laughed all the time. Her heart was simply overflowing with joy. Her circumstances just never seemed to matter to her.

One of her caregivers asked her a question once. "Nancy, you are always smiling, always laughing; don't you ever get sad or depressed or blue?"

Nancy's response was quite enlightening to me, and I intend to take her lesson with me. "Yes, I do get sad sometimes when people are not nice or when I think of my situation, but then I remember who I am. I am God's child. He is my heavenly Father."

Well said.

Enjoy your crown, Nancy. It is radiant on you.

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I'm Not Overweight, I'm Undertall

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Some time ago I calculated my BMI index and figured out the extra weight that I'm carrying with me. Then I figured out how that weight measures out in terms of a person. Currently, I'm a 5'4" woman carrying an average 6'4" man on top of my body. To be sized appropriately at this weight, I'd have to be over 8 feet tall.

My friend Jeff (pictured below) makes a PERFECT foil for this because he's EXACTLY an average-sized 6'4" man. It's disheartening and humiliating to admit this in public.

I learned a couple of weeks ago that I now weigh 2 pounds more than I did when I went in for rehab 2 years ago, so I'm at my max weight this minute. BUT - today is the new day, Jan (my therapist) is my company clerk and Paula (my nutritionist) is my aide-de-camp. I also have Kori (my group therapist), my group, and my blogits as cheerleaders.

My goal is to make myself more conscious of every choice that I make. If, for instance, I'm buying lunch, I will say out loud to myself, "I am choosing the chicken salad because it's better for me and fits my program, even though I really want the artichoke casserole." Or, conversely, "I have had a bad day and I want to binge on McDonald's burgers and fries." I have found that speaking my choices out loud - positive or negative - makes me more aware of that particular moment. For now, that's part of the plan.

Also, I need to figure out some rewards for good behavior. If you have any suggestions, please send them along. Paula will be sending me a list of rewards that folks have given themselves when she finds it. I'll post it here for all of us!

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It's All About the Health

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My university is getting with the program. They are getting involved in the fight against unhealthy bodies, unhealthy body image, and eating disorders. I applaud them! Several articles were printed in the most recent issue of the University News:

UMKC Counseling, Health and Testing Center celebrates healthy body image

Why are you eating?

American Women are dying to be thin

Here's my favorite quote thus far from the first article: "Health should be the overall focus of someone who is unhealthy. We want to focus on getting them to a healthy place so that their body can do all the amazing things it is designed to and capable of doing."

An outstanding point, that. HEALTH should be the focus, not size or appearance. Let's shift our viewpoint.

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Living Large

---

Today I read a Lenten devotion at Writings from the Wilderness that struck home for me in a BIG LEAGUE way. It should be clear to you all that I possess a highly addictive personality, which explains part of my eating disorder. I am very, very thankful to God that I have never been offered any kind of drugs and that I don't really like the taste of alcohol because I know what my path would have been, otherwise.

Even without drugs or alcohol, I know that the god of my life is pleasure. I have no idea how long it has been thus, but it's been for many years. I procrastinate on tasks I don't want to do in that "ostrich" sort of way - if I don't see it, it ain't there and I don't gotta deal with it. Stupid, yes; short-sighted, certainly, but I don't believe I'm the only one with my head in the sand.

Where has this pursuit of pleasure led me? To a sedentary life in front of a TV or computer; a life in which I do not feel fulfilled, with no husband or children (the deepest desires of my heart), a job that's just a paycheck and a house that's always messy because I can't be bothered to get up off my rump and do anything about it. And did I mention that as of Wednesday I weigh more than I ever have at any other point in my life?

I struggle on a daily basis to change my life. I have discovered a technique that is becoming an invaluable tool in my box. Whatever decision I need to make - what I'm having for lunch, whether I should wear my seatbelt, anything - as I'm making that choice, I speak my choice out loud.

Example One: "I'm going to have chicken salad for lunch today because it fits my food plan and I am NOT going to have the cheesy artichoke casserole, even though that's what I would prefer."

In this case, it is easier for me to stick to the choice because I have spoken it out loud which reinforces it for me. I try to do this in advance (and out of the hearing of those who would call the mental hospital).

Example Two: "I am choosing not to wear my seatbelt today because I don't feel like it. Besides, I am only going three miles to work and it's highly unlikely that I will have an accident on the way."

Put that way, it sounds rather absurd, doesn't it? Especially considering that I have HAD an accident on the way to work.... Putting it in this kind of language makes it easier for me to make the choice to do the right thing.

No, this is not an easy method. First, I have to be aware that I'm making a decision at the moment, second, I am a weak human being and I still face the temptations to go against my better judgment, but speaking and hearing it out loud means that I cannot pretend any longer that I'm not making a decision. I cannot stick my head back in the sand.

Even though recognizing the decision points is tough in the beginning, I know that with practice I will be able to spot them more readily and the more I practice good choices, the easier it will be to make one the next time.

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Empowerment

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Some time back, I came up with a statement that I felt defined empowerment for me: "I think true empowerment (feministically or otherwise) is liking what you like and doing what you feel is right in any situation, and not merely in reaction to someone else's decisions, choices or approval. In other words - true empowerment is being and liking yourself."

I sent that around to some friends and got a response from my nutritionist: "I agree with your thought. The only thought I would add is something deep about knowing what is right-having an ongoing source of counsel and knowledge to learn and challenge yourself in this regard. Because I believe empowerment is also about truth, which can be very difficult to determine, both in the greater world and for oneself."

I agreed with her. So - incorporating her comments into my original thought, my definition of empowerment:

True empowerment (feministically or otherwise) is liking what you like and knowing and doing what is right in God's eyes in any situation, not merely reacting to another's decisions, choices or approval. It means having an ongoing source of counsel and knowledge from which to learn and challenge yourself in regard to Biblical Truth.

In other words - true empowerment is being and liking yourself, and it is about seeking and acting on God's Truth, which can be very difficult to determine for our human minds, both in the greater world and for oneself.

How does that hitcha?