much better

I took my anxiety meds yesterday at work.  They helped.  I was able to breathe and make it through the rest of the staff meeting.  Unfortunately it made me pretty spacey for the rest of the day which is abnormal. 

Anyhoo, just wanted to tell you that I'm ok, that I survived yesterday and that today looks much brighter. 

I love you all and wish you a beautiful Thanksgiving filled with love, courage and not one single orange thought!

7 almonds a.k.a. screw the new health class

I swear that if I hear one more person tell me that you can only eat 7 almonds for your liver to function properly, that I will scream!  If I hear one more conversation in the lunch room about sugar grams, fat grams, appropriate forms of protien, I may pull out all of my hair! But hey, at least I could make bald a new fashion statement, right? 

I think that for the next 6 weeks of this stupid health class I will be enjoying lunch anywhere but the lunchroom!  Sitting at my desk with my oatmeal and facebook suddenly seems like the best option EVER.  I want to scream at the top of my lungs.  I want to tell people that sometimes there is such a thing as "too healthy".  I want them to know that sometimes people like me take knowledge of health and distort it and use it as a weapon against my body instead of a tool to help my body.

I still read labels.  I still refuse certain ingrediants.  And I also am trying really hard to balance that with moderation.  You know, the kind of moderation that says it is ok if someone brings in cookies to work to have one in spite of the fact that there is no label for me to read.  The kind of moderation that that knows that homemade veggie lasagna is still a healthy option, even though it has noodles in it.  The kind of moderation that has lacked in my life for a while now.

For the record, work is very orange enabling right now.  I could count my almonds like they recommend, or I could trust that my nutritionist knows what she is talking about when she tells me that 1/4 cup is a serving and to not measure or count but instead trust my intuition.  My health depends on trusting my nutritionist right now and not letting other voices interfere with the plan that she has laid out for me.  That is so much easier to say than to do.

she's only 8

We had an interesting conversation today in the lunchroom and I want to throw it out there to you guys to get some thoughts.  My friend and co-worker has an eight year old daughter who has been using the f word.  FAT.  "I'm fat" with her hands on her stomach. 

They have tried to affirm her with some healthy thoughts but she still doesn't see her beauty, she sees her weight.  Of course these conversations terrify me because I was the eight year old who thought I was fat too.  All of these years later my inner eight year old still points at my thighs and moans, "So fat."  I never want another girl to hear those words.

I want her view herself with truth.  I want her to see the beauty she possesses.  She is a darling girl with a fabulous smile.  She is perfect.  But she can't see that.  She is seeing through distorted eyes.  And I have to wonder, do all girls see through distorted eyes?  Maybe, but not all girls go as far as eating disorders to fix the perception of distorted vision.

How can my friend help her daughter?  Can she avoid the road I've walked or is it as some have said genetic and cannot be stopped?  What do you say to an eight year old who thinks she is fat?  I seriously want to cry and I want to hold her and I want to protect her from this. 

Or do all girls say they are fat at eight and I'm just hyper sensitive to their negative body image?  Aren't eight year olds supposed to be more concerned with puppies and dolls than weight?  Or is that just the ideal image in my head that doesn't really exist?

are they really watching my plate or is it all in my head?

Yesterday was a working lunch.  In other words, my work provides lunch and we eat while we continue our meeting.  I hate working lunches.  I despise them.  Yesterday had me desiring to run away, to cry, to swear.  Thankfully I was at a table of people I'm fairly comfortable with which eased my tension a little.  I always feel like people are watching me eat and it makes me really uncomfortable.  Which really, especially here where no one knows about my past, probably isn't happening.

At least this meal was Panera so it was sandwiches and salad rather than pizza or bbq.  Having healthy options should have made it easier but for some reason yesterday's lunch was still harder than usual.  My friend now works with me.  She sits in the cubicle next to me.  I really like having her there.  I was scared at first to have her there because having her there crosses the line of keeping work and personal separate. 

It means that someone in my office knows that some days I don't eat.  It means that someone in my office not only knows about it but was the one to get the text saying that I was in the hospital under 72 hour watch nearly two years ago.  It means that someone at work knows about things I don't want to share at work about my past. 

It also means yesterday when I was staring at my food contemplating for a few moments running away, that I got a quick touch on the knee and a concerned, "You ok?"  Wow.  That was a life giving moment.  I still excused myself to my cubicle to cry for a minute or two but I came back to my meeting and was able to eat the lunch.  That simple gesture helped me bring my head back in the game.

Maybe I still feel like everyone noticed my plate because I noticed someone else's.  I noticed the woman who ate only half of her sandwich (which they were half sandwiches to begin with) and gave her salad away and never ate dessert.  Maybe I feel it because I couldn't stop my leg from shaking violently once the food time arrived.  That was probably more of a tell than my plate.

I feel vulnerable.  Not necessarily in a bad way but still vulnerable.  I feel like there will come a point that my story is going to be asked about and as I've said before, if you ask, I don't lie. I am a little afraid of that but I'm learning that I trust majority of the people in my office.  I want to be known and at the same time I want to be invisible.  It is a scary spot.

I also yesterday realized that I think God brought me here to prepare me for what is next in my life.  I hope to work with this organization for a very long time.  I love it, I'm passionate about it, I feel called to be where I am.  I also feel like the stretching and growing that will happen here is to prepare me for the next step.  I don't know if that step will be within this organization or outside of it but I feel fairly convinced that this is training ground.  That is exciting and terrifying all in one breath.

And today I can eat lunch alone if I wish, with no one watching me.  Even if I do eat with others, knowing I don't have to eases the anxiety a hundred times over.

lunchroom chronicles

I'm trying so hard and I'm so tired.  Office lunch hour I must figure out how to do healthily.  After 2 days of being able to skip the whole horrible affair, today I tested the waters again.  At first it was manageable with the anxiety not being overwhelming.  I made sure to sit with the 2 ladies who were in the lunchroom.  After all, my job is with a Christian ministry and much of my job revolves around cultivating relationships.

Shortly before my lunch time ended, several other ladies came into the lunchroom.  Someone pointed out that everyone had a salad for lunch.  I had already finished, but boy was I glad that I had brought salad, wouldn't want anyone to think poorly of me based on my lunch choices.  And then it started, fat talk.  Diet talk.  I'm not good enough just the way I am talk.

"Are you doing THE diet again?"  "Yeah, but only for ten days."  "I need to do IT again."  "You shouldn't do it, you are supposed to be training and you need the extra protein and calories."  "I'm just going to do it for swimsuit season and then get back to training."  "Yeah, I'm doing it too, I need to lose about 10 more pounds."

The talk was swirling around in my brain and I just wanted to scream "STOP" and run from the room and hide.  I guess I had hoped that working in this office, though filled with women, would be different from other places.  I thought a place of ministry would be my refuge from the storm of orange inside of me.  I so wanted a shelter from the storm, a safe place, a place where orange would be easier to keep at bay.

I guess it turns out that women are women and we all battle this perfect body bullcrap, even in places that should be safe.  My anxiety skyrockets just thinking about lunch tomorrow.  Do I eat at my desk, like I did on Monday, just to avoid the triggering conversation?  Do I keep trying to make friends and build bridges and eat in that lunchroom? 

I've had a hard time wanting to eat anyway but I have been putting one foot in front of the other, making myself stay present and in the moment, and making the choice to eat anyway.  Everything in my head is screaming at me.  I want to say that the voices aren't bothering me, but I'd be lying.  The diet talk in the lunchroom has my head spinning.  I'm wondering what food games will be played here and wondering how I can minimize their damage to a firm and yet very shaky recovery place.