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“Stop for a minute…think about what you just said.”

I am sitting in my therapist’s office, curled up in a ball with my cow tuque on to keep warm. Uh oh…I think I’ve just said something “revealing”, something that will lead us to explore further.

I know this is why I dip into my shoe allowance to pay for therapy each week; to be challenged, to be called on my bullshit, to be forced to look at things I would prefer not seeing.

Still, there are times where I wish I had chosen my words a bit more carefully and stayed under the radar.

Ok, Doc, let’s do this.

“You just said that writing your blog is the thing you enjoy the most at the moment; why is it the first thing you are thinking of stopping in order to get things done?“

I blink. She blinks right back. This is just one of the numerous times so far in our sessions where I look at her like she is crazy and she waits for me to share what is going on in my head.

Isn’t it obvious? It is the least important thing on my list, the one thing that doesn’t actually need to be done for life to run smoothly. It is a “luxury”.

This leads to an in-depth discussion about why the thing that makes me most happy and fulfilled is the least important to me.

Huh!?

Later in the week, I am faced with a choice: take the shorter route to my destination or the warmer one. Without hesitation, I pick the fastest route. Efficiency over comfort, every time.

As I walk quickly in the freezing cold, it dawns on me. With few exceptions, I continually put efficiency, productivity, work, the well-being of others, etc ahead of my own comfort, needs and well-being.

Why? Because I don’t value myself as much as I value others.

I won’t pretend to be a saint. I have done things in my life that were epically selfish. In fact, ignorant people might even consider my persistent food restriction despite the harm it causes the people I love to be the ultimate selfish act. I know better…

That said, like many others, I tend to put myself on the bottom of the priority list simply because I view myself as less important. And this has led to some interesting rules to live by.

For example, my job is to ensure everything is taken care of before I can even consider doing anything else. I can only eat when I’ve earned it (either by accomplishing tasks or by waiting long enough). I can only miss one bedtime a week. I can only…if…

These are just a few examples of how my lack of self compassion and love manifests itself in my life.

I am not suggesting putting myself above others at all times. It is about balance. About putting the things that make me truly happy and healthy above some of the other things that matter much less in the grand scheme of things.

Let the laundry pile up once in a while, let others sleep at the office in hopes of getting the promotion, tell my kids no once in a while…

All so I can dance and sing with abandon, do some of the things I love, eat when I am hungry, listen to myself.

And keep blogging.

They’re everywhere…in my head, on the scale, in my dreams. Lbs, kilos, calories, steps…these numbers are the white noise of my daily life.

Thanks Starbucks for reminding me just how many calories are in that scone I am trying to convince myself to buy and eat (all of it, not a bite or a quarter or a half…the entire 400 calories).

Oh and thanks Fitbit for making it so easy for me to not only track how much energy I expend in a day but to also encourage me to compete with others to see who can walk more in a week.

I am pointing fingers at the tools, but in truth, I don’t need them. I can just look at a food item, any item, and guesstimate the caloric content with laser precision. It could be my party trick, I am so good.

Same thing with respect to how active I am. I just know intuitively. Instead of a spidey sense, I have the Peiky ED sense.

And no matter how hard I try – and I have tried, either out of motivation to get well or sheer exhaustion – I cannot turn it off.

The thing about my eating disorder is that I use these data points to fuel my competitive nature and try to outperform. And performance is gauged by whatever lens I am using on a given day (healthy or anorexic).

If I am in a healthy/recovery mindset, outperforming involves taking more risks, consuming the same amount or more, than the day before. It means being less physically active. It means gaining weight.

But if I am looking at things from my ED perspective, I lower the bar daily with respect to my consumption. It can involve small things like removing a coffee from my routine to removing a food intake from my day. And once you lower the bar, it is extremely difficult to stop yourself from lowering it even further. So it feels nearly impossible to raise it again – unless something dramatic (feeling faint, having heart palpitations, professional intervention) propels you to action.

Every day is a battle. And a positive trend can turn on a dime, without reason or warning, and you have to find the strength to start the climb again. And it gets harder and harder to lift yourself. But I do…and then I don’t…and then I do.

Recovery is hard. It is not linear and it can be discouraging…for me and, undoubtedly, for everyone that loves me. The disorder can be incomprehensible…even when you are in it, when you feel it, and especially when the numbers swirl around you.

I don’t know when or how exactly I will reach the recovered stage. But, I know that when I do, it will be my proudest accomplishment. So I climb…

It is performance appraisal time for many and I’m no different. But, rather than an evaluation of my work performance over the past year, I am looking at my recovery.

It is not a straightforward process – there were no concrete objectives set last January and other than my weight, the KPIs are debatable. With that in mind, I would say that my report card is mixed. And I say that without shame because I am proud of the person I have become in the last 12 months. An imperfect person but a stronger, happier and more enlightened one.

A year ago, I was a mess. I was unhappy, my emotions were out of control, I was a prisoner of my thoughts and I felt so ashamed – of being ill, of having to leave work, of not being able to cope and of desperately trying to cling to unhealthy things to make me feel better. I felt I had been stripped of my superhero cape and exposed for the fraud that I felt I was. I hated myself and could not see a way forward.

When I think back to that person, I barely recognize her. I’ve left a lot of her behind. Now, I don’t want to give the impression that I am recovered. Far from it. My eating disorder remains a strong presence in my life at the moment. So I work my recovery every day. And I may for years to come.

But, there is definitely a new Peiky in town. Today, I am happier, I put far less pressure on myself, I can actually shut my brain off and I am fully functional. I don’t waste precious time thinking about past events or anticipating a myriad of scenarios for the future. I take things as they come…well…for the most part. You can’t change everything! But there is a sense of calm I’ve not felt before.

And, I am so much richer than I was a year ago. I’ve long been blessed with the best group of friends a person could ask for. Today, I am even more blessed. I have met so many amazing women during my recovery. They have understood me, they have inspired me and they have joined my team of excellent cheerleaders. I treasure them more than they know.

I am kinder with myself and I am, without a doubt, wiser.

However, there is one big area where I need to be honest with myself about my progress.

Eating remains a challenge and I have lost weight since I left the Day Program. You can shake your head as you read this. I would too if I were you. But, from what I gather, this is not unusual for patients leaving the Day Program. As much as starting the program discombobulates you, so too does leaving it. You go from being “grounded” and under strict supervision to being free; from having full support whenever you need it to feeling alone. I won’t lie, my desire to undo everything I accomplished during the Program took over. I see it and I am working on it with my recovery network; but it remains a struggle.

As I battle on, I continue working on self love and acceptance and on building on all the good things that have come out of this last year. I am scaling the mountain once more. And, even if I backslide, I know each time will bring me higher than the time before.

Let’s see what next year’s report card brings.

“You’re so vain…”

One of the frustrating misconceptions about eating disorders is that they are caused by vanity.

EDs are complex mental illnesses that have a myriad of root causes and triggers. The initial trigger is often not what perpetuates the disorder. And, if you relapse, which has been my case on 2 occasions, the trigger can be vastly different each time.

Just recently, I finally identified the trigger of the relapse that threw me into a tailspin last year. Deep down I knew what it was; my therapist had verbalized it several times. But, I had refused to believe it and to accept it.

It is all a bit too personal to go into in this blog but I will say this: vanity had nothing to do with it.

And vanity is not what keeps me in it. Afterall, there is nothing vain about wearing a tuque all the time cause you are always cold – even if it is a quirky cow hat. Nor is there any vanity in hiding your weight under bulky sweaters or having your hair fall out due to malnutrition.

At my lowest, there were days where I felt so tired that showering and getting dressed seemed almost impossible.

But sure, I kept starving cause I wanted to look like a supermodel!
Trust me, at my height, looking like a supermodel has never crossed my mind.

Too often, in mainstream media, unrealistic body ideals are blamed for eating disorders. And, while I am not disputing that they can be a cause, these beauty ideals are not the ONLY cause. I understand that it is easy to believe it is all down to poor body image. It makes it seem easier to fix. Fix the body distortion and the patient starts eating! Right?

Um….not quite. I know all about unrealistic body ideals. I know that many people find me too thin…that having the BMI of a model doesn’t bring an iota of happiness… oh, I know…and yet…

So if you have daughters and are tempted to ban Barbies, fashion magazines and pretty much all forms of media; if you are considering home schooling them to avoid teenage peer pressure in hopes that you can keep eating disorders at bay…I hate to tell you, it is just not that simple.

“Mommy…why do you dislike Donald Trump so much?”

Woah, that is quite the question for the 7:30 school drop off.

Now, I am not looking to make this Blog political so let’s leave politics out of it. Republic, Democrat, Independent…here’s a fist bump. More power to you.

That said, Zoe asked a question and she deserves an answer.

After some reflection, I think I identified the crux of my distaste – the single thing that makes me truly dislike Trump, no matter his title, his political views, no matter his actions. It boils down to respect.

I won’t delve into whether or not he is capable of learning it or whether or not he actually has to at this point in his life. It is really irrelevant to me.

But it did get me thinking about myself. If I look back at the things that have really hit home for me, the people or actions that have prompted a storm within me, there is a recurring theme, respect, or rather, a lack thereof. It is simply something I cannot stomach. It makes me angry, and has, on occasion triggered me to react very, very strongly.

Everyone has triggers, things they simply cannot overlook. I’ve seen many people face disrespect and shrug it off.

I simply cannot.

I get upset when I see someone mistreat a server at Tim Horton’s. I scream inside when I see someone cut in line. I cannot work for a boss that mistreats his employees. I cannot overlook a sexist/racist/xxxist comment. No matter the extent of the infraction, being disrespectful irks me in a way nothing else can.

Why? Quite simply, it is because it is unkind. And I don’t like unkind behaviour. And that is exactly what I said to Zoe. My Zoe, whose heart is so big but who also has a strong desire to be right, to adhere to the rules.

I shared with her a life lesson I’ve seen in several books. “Zoe, my sweet Zoe, if ever you are faced between being right and being kind, try to be kind.”

Don’t get me wrong. I am no Pollyanna. I can be unkind and stubborn and I love being right. And there will be situations where this philosophy won’t work (cutthroat business for one) but as a general rule of thumb, I think it has served me well in life.

Being kind does not mean being soft, being weak or constantly putting others ahead of you. Sometimes, being kind, can even mean hurting someone…at least in the short term. I’m still learning this.

And I have 2 funny, crazy, sweet, unpredictable girls to learn with me.

You’re a badass…

I am no stranger to therapy. And, one of the things I hear a lot in my sessions is the importance of letting go and “listening” to the universe, a higher power, God, or whatever you want to call it.

I’ll admit to a certain amount of skepticism about this universe business. But, recently, I’ve been finding myself thinking about it a lot.

A few weeks ago, I was feeling unsure of myself. I went onto my iPad to write a blog and the first words I saw were: “You’re a badass.”

My first reaction was to stop and agree with the statement. Yes, yes I am. And, while I agreed with the words, they seemed to come out of nowhere – until I remembered it is the title of a book someone recommended.

That entire day, I felt badass. I was confident, I was happy and I was strong. Maybe it was a pure coincidence. Maybe not. But whatever it was, it changed the entire dynamic of my day.

Hmmm…

When I started the coaching program, I was afraid. After almost a year of being off work, much of which was spent in a haze of deprivation, and after a failed attempt to return to work, I was unsure I could cope mentally with the courseload. On the first day, I skipped breakfast so was feeling a bit weak and particularly doubtful about my abilities. I was lost in negative thoughts when the professor – almost as though she was reading my thoughts – broke my reverie by saying: “each of you is a fascinating individual and we were thoroughly impressed by your applications, your wealth of experience and backgrounds. If we didn’t think you should be here, we would not have selected you to be part of the program.”

Hmmm again.

Now, I can’t say that I’ve been converted into a very spiritual person. I tend to skim the higher power sections in the various self-help books I read. But, I have to admit that there may be some truth to the notion that being more present allows us to hear messages we may have ignored before.

I’ve been encouraged to get more in touch with who I am, what I need, etc. My response has always been, sure thing, what is the step-by-step process to do that. Apparently, it doesn’t work that way. I need to slow down…listen…wait…listen…wait some more…

Ok! I sit down, put on some music, breathe and just wait…Nothing….I’m so frustrated with myself…I cannot hear anything. No inner voice, no inner child…Maybe I’m broken….I have nothing to tell myself…All I hear is my stomach grumbling….

Oh…

Hello body; hello hunger. It has been a while since I allowed myself to hear you. Maybe I’ll start with listening to you and see what happens….

Recently, I’ve started to read a few books introducing the concept of an Eating Disorder as a separate entity to our true selves (Life Without Ed & Goodbye Ed, Hello Me – both by Jenni Schaefer and both highly recommended reads).

I remain unsure about the concept but I will concede that, when you have an ED, inner dialogue is a running ticker tape in your head, in your life. I suppose it doesn’t really matter if it is a dialogue between 2 parts of myself or between my true self and my anorexia. The end result is the same…confusion and exhaustion.

To give you an idea of what it is like to have this inner dialogue, I thought I would chronicle one day in the life of Peiky. (This format is inspired entirely by Jenni Schaefer’s excellent prose).

1:30 am: I’m starving / no you’re not.  Yes I am / ok, you are but honestly, do you really want to get out of bed and go downstairs?  I kinda do / Yeah, but then what will you eat? Maybe you could have a few crackers…no more than 2 though. Nothing more. It needs to be fast and low calorie…seriously, why not just fall back to sleep.  Sigh…ok

4:30 am: Off to the airport…I really am starving / You can’t eat now. It is way too early. If you eat something now, then you’ll be hungry for something else at breakfast time and you’ll wind up having an extra meal today. True, ok, maybe I could have something small, just to have a bit of sugar boost and flavour, like a Hershey’s kiss?/Do you honestly want to start you first day of vacation eating chocolate? You are really losing your resolve these days.                                                                                             
5:45 am: Check in is really long and I feel faint…I’ll just eat the chocolate. It will give me a bit of energy and help me be in a good mood with the girls. Can’t be crabby / Ok fine but nothing more until you are on the plane.

6:45 am: I should get a drink for the plane / Sure, VitaminWater Zero. Tastes like shit but hey, no calories. Oh and buy lots of gum and tic tacs in case you get hungry.

8:30 am: Gum is not working, hungry. Gonna have the Cliff bar I packed / You can, but no one else is eating on the plane right now. Why don’t you wait until beverage service?

9:30 am: Still no beverage service…I’m eating / Ok, take the bar out of your bag and just keep it nearby. See if you really want to eat it

10:00 am: I need a coffee / yup, Imagine how good the bar will taste with a coffee. You will be so proud of yourself for waiting and will enjoy the experience so much more.

10:05 am: I just went to the bathroom and the beverage carts aren’t even ready. Fuck it, I am eating the bar when I get back to my seat / Really? Don’t you want to be proud for having waited? Oh and look at your thighs… But go ahead, eat the bar.

10:45 am: Beverage cart! I can eat / Wait to see what the girls have for lunch. Maybe eat their leftovers instead of the Cliff bar. Ok, 2 crackers and a bite of Lily’s soup.  Still hungry / why don’t you wait a bit, maybe the hunger will subside?                                                                                                                                    
11:08 am: I’m eating this bar…la la la la…I can’t hear you.

12:30 pm: Oh good, here comes the beverage cart…coffee smells good / Nope, coffee means milk, no matter how minute the quantity. Have a Diet Coke instead.                             
1:30 pm: we’ve landed and the heat is making me feel faint. I’m shaking. I need to eat. Where are the snacks? / No more than 120 calories there Peiky. When you get to the hotel, you will have lunch so watch it. Eureka, a bag of fish crackers. 120 calories / SHIT LILY WANTS THEM. I TRY TO OFFER HER A BEAR PAW BUT SHE REFUSES. I can’t find anything else in the bag that will do. Bear paw, 190 calories, Nutella sticks…um I can’t even look. I actually feel panic rise. Wait! I find a bag of dark chocolate covered fruit. 90 calories. Hallelujah.

3:00 pm: ok…lunch time, lunch time / it is too close to dinner. No protein, a plain soft tortilla with cabbage is ok, a little salsa, one, and I mean only one, nacho                               
5:00 pm: Lily wants a virgin Pina Colada. Yum. I’ll have a sip. / WHAT??? Are you crazy. No more sips. Do you hear me??

6:30 pm: I should have a small snack before dinner / Saltine crackers…no wait, if you start eating, you might trigger greater hunger. Best to wait until dinner.

7:30 pm: oh…there is a whole vegan section / Acceptable. Not too much though!                          
8:10 pm: ohhh I feel full / Shouldn’t have eaten so much. I told you!!!! Eat less tomorrow.

Some days are more intense than others. It usually depends on how strong I feel and on how much “idle brain time” I have on my hands. Before starting treatment, there wasn’t even a dialogue going on in my head. At least not a conscious one. Restrictive behaviours and thoughts were standard and so strong that that I could not “hear” any other voice. Now, as I know more, as my awareness of the issue is strong, the dialogue is more frequent. It is like an arm wrestle. At first, I was so far down on the ED side. Now, we are almost back into the start position. And, slowly, I am starting to move closer to the healthy ME side. I won’t lie, it hurts, it is draining, the other side gets stronger some days and it gets harder and harder to move the pendulum back the other way. But, I’m holding on for the win!

This week I did something I have not done since my wedding/honeymoon: I went on vacation without my phone.

I have always struggled with shutting off. Pre-technology, it was simply a struggle to shut my brain off. Once cell phones, then blackberries and tablets came into play, well…I really had a hard time.

I’ve taken calls from advertisers while at the Acropolis, gotten into a heated email exchange while at my daughter’s soccer game, listened to a psychometric report on a prospective hire while on the beach in Jamaica and participated in daily conference calls while at Disney World.

While I may have felt pressure or guilt at times to keep my phone on, the truth is, I did it more for myself than anyone else because deep down I enjoyed it. I felt important, needed.

Of course, I also liked to feel connected to friends and family, to be able to see at any given time what else was going on in the world.

Over time, I began to have a Pavlovian reaction to the red flashing light on my blackberry, to the ding of a text coming in. Apart from my car and my credit card, it became the most important tool in my life. It was my alarm clock, my watch, my means of communication, my news agent, my camera, etc…you get it.

My addiction was so strong that I knew the only way to disconnect even a little was to leave my phone at home. Oh no…I didn’t go cold turkey. I still had my iPad to send occasional emails and check in with friends via Messenger. And, to write my blog.

But, this was the most unplugged I have been in years. And you know what? I loved it.

Without a phone, I had no idea what time it was most of the time – leaving me to simply enjoy things as they happened rather than planning away or breaking the day down into units of time. Also, with little time spent communicating with the outside world, I found my mind so much calmer.

Ok, you could say that not having work demands at the moment helps. And it did. But I have always found things to occupy my mind other than work… other people, past events, future to-dos, mistakes I’ve made, plans to concoct, etc.

But somehow, without my phone to look at every 5 minutes, I started to focus on what was right in front of me. I would go for walks on the beach, iPod in hand and be completely taken away by the lyrics, the music and the scenery.

I noticed things I’ve never taken the time to look at before. I saw the way the water made grooves in the sand, I saw a lone orange butterfly in a landscape of blue sky and green trees, I noticed the way the sand looked like it had gold flecks in it, and I saw pure joy in a girl’s face as she ran into the ocean.

Some days, I would get so caught up in the moment that I would let go completely. I would find myself dancing on the beach, not sure when I started or who had seen me. To be honest, I didn’t care. I felt a sense of freedom I have not felt in a long time.

Of course, that sense of freedom went away at meal times. But I still felt it. And that matters.

That’s progress I thought to myself as I saw my girls running toward me on the beach, limbs flailing and smiling from ear to ear.

That’s happiness…That’s living…That’s me.