in denial about being in denial? say wha?

so i have a few things I want to say, but i was stalling because up until a few seconds ago I didn't know how I was going to say them.
here goes nothing. (what does that even mean??? more like here goes something.)
I think i've been lying to myself. <---i'm resisting the urge to put the phrase "a little" at the end of that sentence. lies are pretty black and white. you either lie or you don't. period.
i think i've been "messing with my food". (again, resisting the phrase -urge)
Carrie just wrote a really great post on "needing a gps" and how we kind of need a "gps" in recovery.
i think i just realized that she's right.
today was a little bit of (ah, shucks, gave into the urge, sorry!) a wake up call for me.
i was sitting in therapy and then i started talking about my food and somehow we got to the place where D was like "Are you messing with your food, Rose?"
I was all like "um, well, no i just---"
                     "What just happened to your voice?"
                     "My what?"
                      "Your voice. Your voice just completely changed. You're messing with your food,                             aren't you?"
                     "No, i mean, i'm not. I'm just not hungry. I'm really, truly not hungry. I don't eat when i'm not hungry. that's normal. "
                       "You need to eat. Does L (dietitian) know about this?"
                       "Yes. And so did you. L knows, she weighs me for gosh sake."
                       "I did not know about this. I thought you got over that little period of time a few months ago, you didn't tell me about this"
                      "I didn't because it's not a problem, i'm not doing it intentionally"...blahblahblah rose's eating disorder continues to fight a losing battle with her therapist for a good ten minutes of a 3/4 of an hour-long session
Eventually my brain kicked ED out for a few seconds of clarity and I realized that I have been lying to myself, and to all of you for a little while.
(I say "to all of you" because I feel that as a recovery blog, I have an absolute obligation to reveal when I am struggling, so as not to let my eating disorder lurk anywhere in these pages.)
Here's the deal. I cut back on my food a little over a month ago because my anxiety was getting super bad (i've now switched meds) and my stomach just couldn't handle a lot. That kind of triggered a little bit of restricting that I thought I had put an end to but it has still been trickling in.
I thought I had totally kicked ED out when, this weekend, i basically had a food fest and just ate tons of delicious food at every meal and was totally chill about it. (pictures of said deliciousness to come, no worries)
But then on monday and yesterday and then again today my food has been kind of off.
It took my therapist getting pretty effing angry at me for me to realize i had fallen off track. And i was in denial. And i was also in denial that i was in denial. woah there.
so, there. i said it. and it's awkward and weird (especially because my parents read this from time to time and that thought just embarrasses me a little bit but i'll get over it)
just now I ate a bagel (after solemnly eating a proffered [more like irritatedly insisted upon] balance bar in my therapist office, and i'm going to get back on track. (i hate that phrase. can we come up with a new one, perhaps one that doesn't rhyme quite as cheesily?)
i'm grateful that Carrie posted about a recovery GPS because it really helped me put this whole thing into perspective. I just needed my therapist to be my GPS, I needed someone to tell me that i was lost, so i wouldn't spend the extra hours roaming around before I realized I was going south instead of north.
That being said, it was also a really icky feeling to have my therapist be "mad" at me back there. I didn't like it one bit. I think that's almost a reason not to restrict in itself.
A reader recently emailed me and told me how much my blog has helped her. I love hearing that. And for that reason also, I know I need to keep going, because if there's one thing I want to do in this world, it's help people, and I only have a shot at that if i can help myself first.

PHEW. now wanna see some #MomofukuMadness???
now that all of that is taken care of, wanna see some photos of deliciousness?
sure ya do!

went to Momofuku's Milk bar with my daddyo

i was immediately drawn to the crack pie, of course.

they also have all these weird milks...i think they have something called "cereal milk" too...

the goods:

the compost cookie. uh-mazing. very possibly the best cookie i've ever tasted.
and i know my cookies, ladies and gents.

last but definitely not least, the famous Crack pie.
it's a drug no doubt. thought it's definitely cooler than crack, i assure you

thanks for listening to my rambles!

xo

rose

The Sorcerer's Apprentice and Eating Disorders

today in my (amazing, exhilarating, totally awesome) Popular Culture class, we watched Fantasia. 
For those of you who don't know, Fantasia is a film that was originally produced by Disney and released in 1940. It was all about the merging of cartoon and classical music, a phenomenon that was really well received by film critics but that pissed a lot of music critics off (because they think Disney was "cheapening" the music)
For my class, we had to read an essay about "Reception theory" , which is basically what it sounds like, a study of how audiences receive or understand certain media based upon their personal experiences, outlook, socio-economic status, race, etc.
I had never seen Fantasia before. What's funny is that my favorite part of it was definitely the Mickey Mouse as the Sorcerer's Apprentice segment, which i've embedded below.
In it, (if you don't want to take 8 minutes to watch it, which is totally understandable, even though it is a Friday - thank god!!!) Mickey is the apprentice to a sorcerer. He is shown carrying heavy buckets of water up and down stairs, and feeling tired and strung out from all the heavy-lifting. He then starts playing around a little bit (by putting on the sorcerer's hat) and tries to make a broom come to life. It does. And then Mickey tries to teach the broom to do the heavy lifting for him.
The broom starts going up and down the stairs while Mickey just enjoys himself, sits back and relaxes. then Mickey falls asleep, and the next thing he knows, he is drowning in water because the broom  has totally overdone it and is out of his control. Mickey doesn't know what to do. He freaks out and tries to get it to stop but then the brooms multiply and there are tons of them and they go faster and faster and Mickey is drowning and scared.
Eventually, the Sorcerer comes along and stops all of this madness, and Mickey is left ashamed and, well, in trouble for playing around.
I "received" this as an analogy for eating disorders. It hit me immediately that we are Mickey.
Tired and bored of the hum-drum of everyday life and feelings and all that other stuff, we tried to find a way out of it. We tried  to find a way where we wouldn't have to do all the work. Feel all those bad things. The broom is our eating disorders.
At first, it was nice. We had a nice system going. The brooms were doing all the heavy-lifting. It gave us a nice break, a chance to relax, "take the edge off", kick up our feet (as Mickey does, literally) and just sail smoothly for a while, not feeling any feelings or having to actually engage in life.
Inevitably, though, we somehow let it get out of our control. We couldn't stop restricting. Or purging. Or bingeing. We begged and pleaded with our eating disorder to just stop, stop the awful thoughts and the crazy behaviors, as Mickey fruitlessly pleads with the brooms. It doesn't work.
Eventually, someone intervenes and we are left ashamed and confused as to how we got there. I mean, c'mon-- we were just playing around a little bit! Skipping a couple meals. Seeing if sticking our fingers down our throats would make us feel better. Trying on the proverbial sorcerer's cap. We then spiraled out of control and were drowning in our own, self-made flood of anxiety and fear and food. Finally, (hopefully), someone steps in and makes it all stop. Calms the waves for a little bit. Takes control. We, having (again, hopefully) learned our lesson walk away, not unscathed, but at least we didn't drown.
We are the Sorcerer's Apprentices. 



xo,
Rose

you don't know how lucky you are.

 i was talking in therapy today (isn't it just darn comical when people start their sentences [or blog posts] like that?) about how i am always jealous of girls who are sicker than I am, or was.

I've always kind of been curious about this phenomenon, as it, being related to eating disorders, has always kind of seemed different, or somehow more complex than just your standard, run-of-the-mill jealousy.

i'm pretty sure this is a  common theme in eating disorders...jealousy/competitiveness/whatever you want to call it. It's kind f the source of a lot of tension the "ED world", so to speak, because most people with an ed do not think they are "sick enough" or as "sick" as the next girl (in the waiting room, the dietitians office, the doctors office, on the street, etc). 

(Source: Samantha Conlon)

some quotations...

18036) My best friend is my trigger.

18126) I secretly wish that all the ED girls who I follow will have a bad day, so that I can feel even better about my good day.

(from Confessions about Eating Disorders (i'm only posting the link b/c i have to for copyright reasons--but don't visit this site if you're easily triggered, please.)

so...what the hell is up with us? 

What's with all the competition and jealousy? 

Anyway, so i was talking in therapist about how
yes, i, too, still get really upset/jealous/whatever when I see girls who are visibly very sick, or when girls who I know relapse. I was talking about how I hate that they get more attention than I do.
D (my therapist) asked how I know they get more attention. I said, in my experience, they just do. 

And i, being bulimic, i have always felt that I do not warrant the same kind of attention as a super-underweight anorexic. (see this post for more on that)

(Source: 1000 nightmares)

I was saying how I "hated" the girls who came into treatment, kicking and screaming and ridiculously underweight, usually between the ages of 14-18, forced by their parents or doctor. I said I hated them because they didn't know how lucky they were. how lucky they were to have people who noticed early. How lucky they were not to have to take responsibility for choosing treatment. How lucky they were to be in the position of stubborn, sick, anorexic girl who needs lots of care, attention and coaxing and support. 

How lucky they were to still be stuck in the oblivion of their eating disorder, making the rest of us miserable with their stupid comments about how "this place just wants to make me fat", and not having to worry or  think about recovery because, in fact, they didn't care.
I talked about how I'd always wanted to get out of my chair or off my couch in the group room and scream at them, lungs full and face red you don't know how lucky you are, you skinny fucking bitch!

But then D said something really smart. (lol, look at that, Rose-a therapist said something insightful!) She reminded me of something I had totally forgotten. she said, I think you want to tell them how lucky they are in general, but you're just minimizing it down to food and body-weight and ed-stuff.

true, true or true?

I pick all three. 

I forgot about this.

I forgot about how eating disorders do this.

How we feel something very strongly but then we make it all about food and weight and ed-related stuff. 

just cause we're programmed like that. or cause it's easier. I don't know.

but when I thought about it, and I mean really thought about it, I realized D was right.

What I really wanted (and want to) say to all those girls (and not only the very sick ones, but also my friends from school and many people in my life) is you don't know how lucky you are. 

Because, at times,  I feel unlucky.

Whether that is depression, anxiety, teenagerness, ed-ness, or circumstance, I don't know. But I assume I'm not alone in this. I think we all envy others when we are feeling down ( I know i have days where i'd rather be the homeless man on Fifth Avenue than be myself), and I think those of us with eating disorders just attribute it to weight/degree of sickness or acuteness/ ed-related attention, etc and so forth. 

I'm not really sure what the remedy for this is. I think for those of us with eating disorders, it can simply be remind ourselves that it's about more than what that girl weighs, or what you weigh. 

(Source: Tumblr Photography)

And it's about more than how she is still "allowed" to starve herself, etc, etc. And for all of us, I think it's about being grateful for what we have. Even if it feels like not a lot sometimes. I know my ability to be thankful for the things in my life changes from moment to moment, but i think no matter what, i can always find something, even if it's just a blanket or a cup of tea, to be happy about. 
What are you grateful for today?

And can you relate to any part of my crazy-jealousy?

 Let me know in the comments :)

Save Sofia, Save Ourselves.

does anyone remember this lovely girl?

it's okay if you don't.
i forgive you. 
just go read my post: How to Save a Life. 
For those of you who weren't around or don't remember, this is Sofia.
Sofia has an eating disorder. 
She needs our help. 
Badly.
Back in October, I asked you guys to check out her fundraising page because she was trying to raise money  to get into treatment. The same treatment facility that I trust because I, personally, was able to find a peaceful place to being my recovery there. 
Starting today, I'm doing a Momofuku giveaway (scroll to the bottom of this post for details), and begging you to donate.
You see, after she did some fundraising and after Sofia's father took out money from his savings, Sofia was able to go into treatment like we all were hoping she would. Phew.
But her insurance cut out super early again. Big Surprise there, right? 
She also is still in the appeals process. It's kind of a bummer. 
Sofia has worked so hard and come so far, even in the midst of her debilitating mental illness.
Here is some of Sofia's wisdom about recovery that I think you all deserve to hear:

                                             “it was then that I realized, my moment of clarity wasn’t 

 going to come. That moment in movies where the heavens part and the addict wakes up and realizes their illness is 

going to kill them and it scares them into changing their behavior. I mean I’ve had little moments like that. Where I saw the reality of my situation and it terrified me. I’ve had moments where I come out of it enough to realize the insanity of my behavior and the seriousness of my medical status and the very potentially fatal consequences of my actions…and this is part of why I realized that I needed to reach out and find a way to come up with this money, because I will die before I'm just startled  enough to just stop."

[she is implying here that she needs proper treatment, she understands that she can't do this on her own]

And you see, all of this is why Sofia inspires me. She's a fighter.

She sets off a spark in me. 

She makes me think of this quotation:

It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. It’s not just in some of us, it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Nelson Mandela

I wouldn't ask you all to take a moment of your time, and possibly a cent  from your wallet if this didn't mean something. Sofia means something. I know it. 
But she's just one person, right?
What's the point of giving money to just one person?
You might be asking yourself this question. 
I know i did.
Here's the thing, though. While physically yes, Sofia is, in fact, just one person in this universe of ours, she means more than that. 
really, she does. 
Don't believe me?
I see myself Sofia. 
I also see you in Sofia.
Yes, you, you, the one  reading this right at this very moment. 
Sofia represents all of us when we are at the very bottom of our ropes. the end of the line. desperate. pleading. needy.
this, my friends, is not a fun place for anyone to be. But we've all been there. 
I have. I will again. 
You have. And you probably will again, too.
Your low and my low probably don't look the same. 
Maybe the last time you were at the end of your rope, it was because a loved one was sick. Or your dog was lost. Or maybe you lost a job, or a friend, or maybe you just spilled some coffee and stubbed your toe and just wanted a shoulder to cry on.

Was somebody there to help you up?
Really, think about it.
Or did you do fix it, get better, get well, become happier, yourself again all on your own?
Was it the smile of a kind stranger that knocked you back into reality? Or maybe a husbands' firm hug?
Whatever it was, I hope you were not alone. I hope that somebody helped you. I hope that that inspires you to help Sofia. Sofia is in all of us. We just need to see it. 
The question then is, really, will you help yourself?


here's the link to her fundraiser: http://www.giveforward.com/stillfighting


and one last quotation from Sofia:

                       "I really don’t know what more I can do but be totally honest and be persistent…and not 

                       worry about what people think about this persistence [to raise money], because the 

                       persistence is for my life…I can tell you about my passion to help the world, I can tell you 

                       that I understand that I am just one person, no more or less important or special than the 

                       next, but that I also believe we are all worth saving."

with love and gratitude,

Rose

EDIT:
GIVEAWAY IS NOW CLOSED, AS THE TECHNICAL FUNDRAISING TIME IS OVER. If you still feel compelled to promote or donate please, by all means, go ahead. That would be what they might call noble. ;)

molasses cookies and subtle changes

i baked molasses chocolate chip cookies last night!

a strong urge to bake kind of hit me at 9 pm, because i hadn't done any baking over the weekend. Since i didn't have too much work to do, i decided to roll with it. I got the recipe from the lovely Joy the Baker.

2 sticks unsalted butter
2 cups plus 2 Tablespoons bread flour ( i used all-purpose)
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/4 cup plus 1 teaspoon dark molasses, not blackstrap
1 egg
1 egg yolk
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

2 Tablespoons almond butter

LOTSA chocolate chips!

i messed it up at first by accidentally half-ing all the ingredients except the molasses. After i fixed that i decided to add a little bit of almond butter just for kicks.

i decided to be a little fancy and press them down with a fork. cute :)

i may or may not have had some left-over cookie dough in my cereal this morning :P

the finished product:

yum!

you couldn't really taste the almond butter, but the molasses-brown sugar concoction is great. I baked them for barely 8 minutes so they're a little prone to falling apart, but very very delicious and gooey.

I got home from school super early today because i only had three classes and they were all in the morning. 

I love LOVE LOVE this extra free time. 

On my way home, I stopped at a Duane Reade near my house to look for the Candy Cane Tootsie Pops that seem to be popping up on the blogosphere and look totally up my alley. Although they didn't have them and i mostly ended up just wandering around the store and buying some other random groceries, it got me thinking.

Lunch today (plus a couple cookies!)
Props to anyone who tells me whose wonderful blog they spy in the background...

Last year and the year before, if i had had this day in my schedule where i got out of school at 12, i would most definitely have just rushed home to binge &purge. Most days back then, i would go home from school as soon as i could to either hide under my covers for hours or to rush off to buy binge food and then b/p for hours.

I probably would have gone to that same Duane Reade and bought 50 plus dollars of food and rushed home in a frenzy to get it in and out, asap.

i've finally had time to read! I'm loving this. Anyone read any good books lately?

It's so nice to notice small differences like that. I loved my free time today. I was relaxed and blog-reading and ate some yummy food and might go take a nap later and it's just awesome to be able to notice little things like this that would have been so different a year or two ago.

willy wanted to say hi

That being said, i think old habits die hard, because I did feel some weird kind of pull to go to DR in the first place, and somehow it just seemed natural to buy some food, even though this time, of course, i was just buying food that i actually plan on digesting.


Yesterday my mom and i went to see Black Swan. I loved it. Last weekend a few of my friends and I actually watched Requiem for a Dream, one of Aronofsky's other films, for the first time. I was thinking while i was watching the movie how i would have been freaking out before about how skinny Natalie Portman (and all the other actresses) in the movie looked.
I would have been crying and screaming in my head about how badly i wanted to be them.
I wouldn't have noticed or cared about the fact that Portman is miserable and sick and delusional in the movie, only about the fact that she weighed less than me, and that i wanted to look like that.

I still have major body image issues.
Some of which still do include wishing that i was super-thin, or idolizing girls who are thinner than I am.
But the difference yesterday was that i was able to actually enjoy the movie as a work of art, and not spend all of my time thinking about what i was going to do to look like a sickly Natalie Portman.
So, yeah. I enjoyed the movie a lot. Some of it is kind of graphic and hard to watch,  as is Aronofsky's style, but i highly recommend it, it was riveting and beautiful and tragic.*
Anyone see Black Swan, or any of Aronofsky's other movies? Thoughts?
Anyway, that's what's going on with me today. Hope you all had a good start to your week! Happy monday!
xo
rose

my version of an Apollonian Gasket, for those of you who watched the video i posted last week. :)

 * Maybe skip it if you're deep into an eating disorder, or get triggered easily. Just FYI.

use your words & eat your food

DON'T eat your words and use your food. k?


I wanted to say thank you to everyone who commented on my last post. Your words helped me more than you know. 
I've hopped back on the recovery bandwagon and am feeling much better because of it.
I'll post more later, after i go out to dinner & hopefully write my religion essay but i wanted to share this poem that i wrote with all of you. 
I had to write a poem based on Allen Ginsberg's Howl for Carl Solomon for my english class.
If you haven't read it, Howl is a great poem. Ginsberg writes about the suffering he experienced and it speaks to the "outcasts" of American society (those who are more focused on love and meaning in life, rather than material "success") and he does it beautifully. We had to write a poem "to someone who understands" (you). I wrote to to a dear friend of mine who i met in treatment. I changed the name for the sake of her privacy, but i thought you all might appreciate it.

Whisper

For Sarah Halper

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by hunger,

Fakeness, lonesome, searching for something beautiful.

Abandoned and unloved, they paint their mouths shut with silence.

Whispery silhouettes run down the sidewalks of insanity,

And stop to glare at grotesque fun-house mirror projections

Of fat and tired limbs,

Glistening with the sweat of hate.

Shells of women who sit on concrete

Smoking endless cigarettes, burning up their lungs

As payback for continuing to swallow air

Organs stubbornly gripping to life

Even when a fragile heart patters like early rain

It beats at the wrong

Moments.

They damn their stupid hearts

For beating at all.

They drink whole pots of coffee

Black liquor, free of sins.

Poured into sad paper cups

During early hours of black mornings

When the rest of the population

Finds solace in quiet minds, minds that

Have not forgotten how to rest, to dream.

Sleepless with self-loathing and malnutrition

They grip fire-hot mugs

Blue-boned fingers, numb and cold

Sipping freedom liquid.

Girls who spend all the seconds

Of melancholy

Photographing mental x-rays

Of beauty beyond their grasp.

Who look at dirt and see holiness,

God and redemption incarnate, sad skeletons.

Twenty thirty and forty-somethings

Trapped in the pain of adolescence

Who never found their way out

Of uncertainty and un-belonging.

Stuck in a sea of mental agony

Riding waves of want

Trampled by harsh, un-caring waters

Hitting the ocean floor over and over again

Choking on salt, gasping for breath

They flail their arms in vain

And No-one sees them drowning.

They hunger for love and affection

Skip lunch, dine on crackers and wine.

Or gorge themselves on cakes of saints,

Stuff themselves to the gills with counterfeit care.

The rumble of their bellies, the pangs in bed at night

Fails to make loneliness seem less Encompassing.

Sarah, I’m with you at midnight

When the crack of light dawns on your kitchen floor

And all before you, you see breads and soups and chocolate

The beginnings and end of your love.

I’m with you in Colorado,

When you play houseguest as your Norwegian father

A connoisseur of disaster

Offers you the finest cheeses,

Not knowing that all you wanted was a second glance.

I’m with you when you read my words

And your mind insists they don’t apply to you

That nobody knows you, that you are not one of us.

I’m with you in Los Angeles

Where hippies disguise themselves as buddahs

And bow down to vegan, soul-less gods,

Chanting the words that will save you.

I’m with you in Santa Monica

Where you hide from yourself

And look to better women of the past

Who might teach you how not to need, not to be so much.

I’m with you inside heavy- closed doors,

When you cry salty tears,

Asking anyone to make you less.

I’m with you in Agoura Hills

Where hypocrisy and beauty made us sick to our stomachs

And we were terrified, tranquilized, frozen in time.

What is beauty? You will ask.

Beauty is the warmth of your cheek

As you embrace my shaking body.

Beauty is the flash of your teeth when you laugh.

It’s the crackle of the fire near my chilled feet.

Beauty eludes us, dear Sarah,

In our search for something unconditional.

It’s a receding horizon, a firefly we’ll never catch.

A glow we can only see in front of us

Never to be held, contained within a see-through jar.

If beauty is love

And love is food

Well then, we are screwed, you say.

I bite my tongue before I suggest

That perhaps, you should come for supper.