“Oh, I Can’t Just Eat Pirates Booty Through This Pandemic?”: Coronavirus and Recovery

It’s 8:30 on a Monday morning, and I’ve been in quarantine for 23 days. Or more. I’ve lost track of time. As I wrote that, I had to double check if it was Monday on my phone calendar.

A month ago, I was on a connecting flight in San Francisco to go to Europe and Morocco indefinitely (okay, probably like a month because money doesn’t grow on trees):

It was to be my Eat, Pray, Love debut. I was going to write my book, figure out what I wanted my career to be (I’m going through a quarter-life crisis, we’ll call it), go makeup free, taste Cafe Con Leche at cafes, wander the streets of Europe again in flowing skirts and stop in Seville in southern Spain to reminisce of my year there as an au pair (I do not recommend being an au pair FYI but I DO recommend living in Spain), and generally have this momentous moment of human freedom in recovery. 

Look at that grin.
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A Letter To You, Anorexia

This one’s to you, anorexia

For you continue to change my life.

The last time I saw my best friend alive, it was 9:00pm at a house party at The University of Arkansas, and I stood there, in the front yard of someone’s house, backing away from him because I wanted to finish a run.

18 years old – our first week of college – he was visiting on his way to a Mississippi school.

Linds, he pleaded, reaching out for my shoulder. Just stay. Christ, don’t run.

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Sh*t Rehab Never Taught Me: Part One

In December 2013, I was gearing up to go to treatment in Florida after 8 years of living in the eating disorder cycle.

In my mind, I had this notion that rehab was gonna be this all-knowing descent into radical self realization.

More or less, I expected to come out of it being Basic B*tch Gandhi… or at the very least, Mother Teresa’s sinful pseudo-daughter. Meditating on the reg – zen-like in feeling, and – of course – still thin because in my jacked up head I thought the weight I felt was “extra” was only there because I binge ate about as much as I starved.

L-O-L.

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CURRENTLY SCHEDULING: Interested In Receiving Recovery Coaching 1×1? Or Tips on Blogging? Let’s Talk!

I’ve been a slacker on the blog this past month and some. Tis’ true.

I’d love to make 100 different excuses as to why (and will totally take this as an opp to shamelessly plug the fact that my partner and I are engaged as of a week ago!) but the truth is I have really just allowed myself to overextend commitments.

Whether it’s recovery meet n’ greet coffees or planning recovery speeches or my 9-5 job or traveling for my 9-5 (and recently for a recovery speech) I am at the point where I can no longer give a present (and meaningful) amount of time to any one email, Instagram direct message, or phone call.

Someone told me once that I needed to create boundaries in my advocacy work or I would get burned out and be of no help to anyone, least of all myself. I ignored this for another two years.

Of course I can, I told myself. I cherish ALL conversations and emails. (I do.)

But, it’s dawned on me since that that person had a point.

While I cherish all connection, I also cherish the privilege to show up and genuinely give my invested time, energy and presence.

I simply cannot do that in unstructured ways.

Over the last year, I have received daily emails that range in various needs: from assistance in finding local resources to treat eating disorders, to starting a personal recovery blog, to general recovery coaching, to parents asking about how to talk to their children.

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Why I Hope I Always Regret My Eating Disorder

2011 vs 2018

I’m having a moment y’all.

I have something that I’m itching to write.

PRAISE BE!!!!!!!!!!!!! If I could figure out how to insert emoji prayer hands in this post, I would.

But instead, I’ll just use an excessive amount of exclamation points and hope that you choose to keep reading and forgive me.

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“New Year, New You”: Post-Holiday Body Image Meltdown

We are 6 days into 2019, and here I am – brimming with possibility, opportunity, a new job, dreams:

And, like clockwork, a post-holiday body image crisis steaming Titanic-force ahead.

#Bliss.

via GIPHY

Maybe it’s the fitness Instagram ads peppering my feed, or the insidious amount of leftover sweets positioned as a shrine on our kitchen counter, haunting my waking hours.

Or the return to schedule after 15 days of nonstop travel and eating out.

Or maybe I’m just basking in the blooming guilt of what I ate over the holidays.

Whatever the reason, it happens almost every January.

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HelloFresh, GrubHub Or Whole Foods: Tips On Cooking With An Eating Disorder

I’ve written quite a bit about cooking over the years.

From the days of meal planning post-rehab (that lasted all of a month) to New York small apartment cooking (that also lasted approximately 22 days) to Grub Hub’ing  (more often than not) to cooking meat for the first time (disaster) to present day Hello Fresh meal plan subscriptions, I’ve phased through it all – which led me to this post, and a comforting realization.

Saturday morning, I woke up in one of those frenzied moods, shoving the comforter back so forcibly that my dog jumped up in fright.

I HAVE X, X, AND X TO DO, I announced aloud, leaping up to brush my teeth – as though I was about to set out to save the world from the Bubonic Plague (or Trump.)

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5 Tips If You Wanna Start A Blog About Eating Disorders And Recovery

Comin’ off 10 days on the east coast – and booooooy did I miss my NYC life.

Sometimes, I don’t know why I left. Sometimes, I know exactly why. It’s a forever battle – so I’m forewarning you that you’re probably about to see an excessive amount of NYC pics.

ANYWHO.

Every week, I receive a message along the lines of “HAAAAALP. I’m so and so and I have an eating disorder. New to recovery, I’d like to start writing about it. I want to help people and feel like I need that community. How’d you do it?”

In pure honesty, I rarely answer these emails or DMs. Not because I don’t appreciate them – but because it’s quite difficult to pinpoint or understand exactly why my blog seems to resonate with people. If I do answer, I usually say something along the cheesedick, admittedly unhelpful line of “I was lucky – and I wrote with little regard to other people because I didn’t actually think other people would read it. That, in turn, made all the difference.”

Eyeroll. I know.

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Eating Disorders Unveiled: The Truth About Weekend Anorexia

Have any of you  – out there blogging in the universe – ever noticed how bloody difficult it is to start a post?

This clearly has nothing to do with what I’m about to delve into, but I noticed that I spent like 30 minutes trying to come up with some “catchy” intro – only to land here – admitting my utter defeat to the intro paragraph.

I lothe introductions and pleasantries. So, Happy Sunday – all the jazz. Hope it’s been a good one. Etc. Etc.

Now, let’s proceed:

DISCLAIMER: I’m covering a topic today that I’ve never seen mentioned in the eating disorder world, and I’m interested to see how you respond. Bash it, critique it, relate to it, I’m open to all feedback (except, like, hateful 1,000-character rants. Then, I’ll just stop reading and repeat over and over to myself “people will love and hate you and none of it has anything to do with you.”)

Anyway, there’s this cultural mantra we live by: “80/20 dieting.” Goes something like  – you eat “clean” (i.e. arbitrary set of often mishmashed food rules) through the week, and then you can go ape-shit on the weekend and eat whatever mounds of processed crap you feel like consuming.

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