Rehab Truth: Why Orthorexia and Exercise Go Hand-In-Hand

As so often happens, “weekend Orthorexia” creeps into me after I’ve worked out. What is it about that voice in your head?

Had a nice, 6-mile run and then immediately came home and couldn’t decide what to eat.

“If I just DON’T eat, well then those calories will be saved,” I always initially (and gleefully) think. “Whatever I eat will make me bigger. NOTHING is safe.” My Braveheart chant sings.

I’ve always had a little bit of an issue with working out and then eating. Somehow, it feels like when I work out- my appetite tends to dissipate for awhile afterwards; Even though I know I need to be eating. Does anyone else feel that way?

Anyway, I went to the little grocery store by my apartment and found myself doing what I always do when I’m in this position; walking up and down- and up and down- back down and elsewhere- into the store unable to decide what is “acceptable” to my ED to eat.

But alas, at the end of the day it’s a choice to hurt yourself- and I’m enough in recovery to understand that. It’s a choice to live by your ED and a choice to weigh your healthy voice over what your weird, instinct desire is telling you.

Fruit? Do I need the (natural) sugar? Cheese? Do I need the protein and fat. Bagel chips? Do I need the carbs?

Yup. I do. Cause I can’t live my whole life being scared of food.

I spent years of my life researching food; memorizing calories.

Years of my life google searching until my eyes felt like they were burning out of my head.

I’m tired of it.

I deserve better.

Flaming Self-Respect-

And it just ain’t no life at all.

Happy Saturday!

Rehab Truth: See Ya Orthorexia

Remembering tonight that 2 years ago pineapples had “too much sugar,” strawberries had “too many pesticides.” iceberg lettuce held “not enough nutrients,” soy sauce had “too much sodium,” cashews had “too much fat,” and quinoa salmon patties held “too much olive oil and breadcrumbs.”

2 years ago I ate like a rabbit- I picked and sorted and moved and analyzed. I could binge eat a box of cereal yet not eat a sweet potato because “carbs.” I wouldn’t eat a bowl of fruit because “natural sugar” but would binge drink a bottle of wine at happy hour. My orthorexia was a mad woman in my brain- and I was miserable.

2 years later, I’m sober; I’m cooking every meal- and I’m realizing that I enjoy it (something I never thought possible). I’m googling what sounds interesting and coming up with Asian lettuce chicken wraps and quinoa patties and homemade yogurt parfaits.

Im feeling useful to myself and I’m taking care of my body. I’m eating foods that I once deemed inedible and finding myself full and content on a level that doesn’t give me massive anxiety (I.e. My mind screaming: run it off you lazy bitch)

In short, I’m waving goodbye to the pieces of orthorexia that still remain as I enter this sober side of my life. I didn’t comprehend how much of me was still skewed by this ridiculous logic of my eating disorder brain.

Orthorexia is a real deal. People discredit it because our culture is unhealthy in nature, but taking clean eating too far is real. It’s obsessiveness and habit-forming in the same way bulimia and anorexia are. It carries the same warped values and illogical patterns.

As I continue down my sober epitome, I find myself waving goodbye to a part of my existence that just didn’t make sense, and thankful to be cooking- even if it means I’m not necessarily the girl with the most “fun” stories from the weekend anymore.

I’m content living this way lately. I’m content cooking- sometimes successfully, other times not so much (my potatoes are always undercooked-ugh) but hey- I’m learning. And I’m sober. And I’m finding a happiness that’s consistent- and that’s all I could ask for tonight.

Cheers-

One Month Sober Sally

 

1 month sobaaa!

You never know how much wine is a part of your life till you let it go. In 31 days, I’ve gone to a wedding, baby shower, client meeting(s), office party, bar (x3), Halloween, had bad days, good days, happy hour, meetups, brunch, a 3-hour ex “what went wrong” phone call, and multiple Friday night Netflix reruns:

And the truth is I don’t regret any of them. It’s hard to not drink, and it’s hard to eat sober in public with an eating disorder – I thought after a month my skin would look superb and my growing crows feet less rigid- but alas, neither has happened thus far. Assumed that perhaps all the clarity I ever needed about life would come as well- but looks like I’m still working on that too. The beautiful part, however, is that I feel good. I feel healthy when I run. I feel talented right now and productive and mostly, honest.

Working on my eating disorder in the most active way I’ve ever known. I’m pushing myself to be uncomfortable- truly uncomfortable- being sober at times is handling discomfort, and I’m learnin’ how to sit with it.

Got no time limit on sobriety- but for now, I’m incredibly pleased and thankful to be doing this <3

The Truth About Being A Millennial Drunkorexic

This is Rehab Day 15:

And you’re sitting on the Renfrew community couch writing your best friend a letter when Lilly comes in and lays down beside you.

I’m bored, she mumbles- her limp hair falling in her face.

Got a book? You ask, barely looking over.

Read them all.

Wanna play a game?

God no. She makes a face. But I do wanna get drunk.

You grin. Me too.

Like stupid drunk, she says. Like blow some shit up drunk.

You put down your letter. Okay, well that escalated, you pause. But yes, I’d love a Pinot Noir.

She scoffs. You and your rich girl sorority shit. She sticks out her pinky and pretends to hold a champagne flute. Oh yes sir, she mimics. I’ll have a touch of the Rosé if you could ever be so kind.

You can’t help but smile. It’s not really like that, you know. I drink the same way you do, Lil.

Out of a bag?

You snort. Okay well no, not usually. But it’s happened.

You think back to college frat parties. Slapping the Franzia bags.

It’s all the same, you say. Everyone just trying to reach some place they can forget.

She waves her hand at this. I just mean you don’t really strike me as the type to get all that drunk.

You’d be surprised, you admit. Got myself a DWI a few years ago. Bet ya didn’t know that?

Her eyebrows raise. That’s actually pretty shocking- yeah.

Was for my parents too.

So you’re a drunk then?

No, you say. Not conventionally anyway.

Ah- more like a desperate housewife?

Something like that.

One too many glasses of wine a night?

A medicinal drunk, I’d call it. I don’t really need it; just prefer it.

A medicinal drunk. Nice, she grins lazily. I’ll use that in our next AA.

Go for it, you say. I’m taking a break from it once I’m out anyway.

From AA, she asks. Or alcohol?

Both, you say- scratching your head.

God, you think to yourself. You’re almost positive this couch has lice. You just know it.

I need to anyway, you say- trying to forget about the lice.  I drink to not eat so it’s not really something I should keep doing.

She rolls her eyes. Yeah- alright then, she says- plopping her hairy legs in your lap.

You look down. Have they literally not let you shave since you got here?

3 months, she says. But yeah, we’ll see about that no alcohol thing.

What do you mean?

I’m just saying it’s hard, she pauses. I’ve been in and out of treatment more times than I can count and it’s hard to give up all your vices. You’re already dealing with your eating shit, she says. And you’re doing a good job with that- so just go with it.

And I’m not smoking, you add in smugly.

Yeah well, she pauses. Don’t get all holier than thou. She lays her head back on a pillow- her tangled headphones on her chest. I just think it’s harder than you know, to be back in the world and sober. She nestles one of the earbuds in her ear. Even if you are some yuppy bitch from Dallas, you’ll want to go out with your friends.

You smile. Thanks for the advice.

But she’s already lost in her world of Wu Tang Clan.

Leaning your head against the wall that day, you wonder if she’s right.

You wonder if you even mean it:

It takes you 2 years to realize, you didn’t.

Continue reading “The Truth About Being A Millennial Drunkorexic”

5 Reasons To Take A Solo Recovery Trip (Or, Ya Know, Just A Solo Trip)

… ‘Cause not everything *really* has to be about your eating disorder.

Likely, we are all recovering from something.

A bad break up, alcohol addiction, divorce, death, loss of job, 20s changes, mid-life crisis, parents aging, you name it.

But after my recent self-proclaimed “recovery trip” to Colorado, here are 5 reasons I will continue to advocate for that total EatPrayLove adventure, and that Wild hike experience:

      Continue reading “5 Reasons To Take A Solo Recovery Trip (Or, Ya Know, Just A Solo Trip)”