Swiss Cheese

My dietitian, once again, shared one of her fabulous analogies.  This time, it had to do with one of my favorite indulgences, Swiss Cheese.

Right now, I'm going through a major transition that has rocked my entire world.  While it is all good stuff that is happening, and great places where I'm headed, it's still left me incredibly unsteady on my feet, and I feel as if the ground is constantly moving beneath me.  That makes it pretty near impossible to feel like I'm able to stand on my own two feet.

Enter the Swiss Cheese analogy.

Imagine a big block of Swiss Cheese.  It's got those holes all over it that go straight to the core of the block.  Now, picture those holes filling up with different things - say, pimentos, pickles, other cheese, maybe even some mold (hey, it goes with cheese, right?!)  What we have is no longer a block of Swiss Cheese.  It's something that resembles Swiss Cheese, yet it's been overpowered by the other flavors that filled in the holes.

Ok.  Let's make it personal.  Imagine a person as a block of Swiss Cheese.  Standing tall, full of holes.  When things happen, when life happens, they dive into the holes and stew on what fills them - the argument, the fear, the stress, the family, the job, the financials, the stuff that is out of their control.  That person is going to be pretty unsteady, full of all sorts of stuff that negatively impacts all they do.

Now picture that same person, only this time, they choose to fill their holes in with positive experiences - like journal writing, exercise, healthy choices, good friends, and so forth.  These experiences fill the holes so that the core of the person is protected.  That way, when things happen, the world will still go on, negative things will still swirl around you, but they no longer have the ability to hit you at your core.  Instead, you filled the holes with self-chosen, positive experiences, and now when the world's chaos hits, you can let it bounce off and laugh.

Pretty powerful imagery in my mind.  Right now, I am so that block of Swiss Cheese, full of holes, constantly being attacked at my core by perceived threats to me and my safety.  However, I am (finally) working hard to fill the holes.  Seeing my therapist twice a week, my dietitian once a week, making intentional choices when it comes to eating, seriously attempting to add exercise to my routine, choosing a career change that will challenge me daily, and encourage me to be truly me.  All of those choices will fill the holes in my world, helping to protect and strengthen my core.

And one day, hopefully in the not-too-distant future, one day, I will be able to stand on my own feet no matter what is swirling around me.  (Knowing, of course, that my "support" team is only a phone call away!)

When Are You Due?

I bet many expectant parents hear this question a lot.  It makes sense, right?  They're pregnant, and people looking to strike up a conversation will ask the obvious.  And I bet many expectant parents are more than happy to answer the question.

Well I'm not.  Because I'm not an expectant parent.

I am recovering from an eating disorder.  There, I said it.  I've danced around the topic a lot on the blog, but I don't know that I've come outright and said that before.

In the not-so-distant past, a complete stranger came up to me, attempted to put her hand on my extremely bloated belly as she asked the dreaded question.  I was shocked.  I mean, I know by evening I am bloated.  I hate it.  But pregnant?  Really?  That is SO not something to say to me.

That comment, as innocent as it may have been (the woman needs to be smacked upside the head as lesson one in learning tact) it flipped my world upside down and sent me into a dangerous spiral.

See, my recovery has only been strong for about two months.  That's not long enough to let a comment like this not rock the boat.  I do not want to throw the last year and a half's worth of work away.  My team has worked too hard to get me to where I am, stable for two months.  But I am so, so, so, discouraged right now.  All that work, all that effort, all that pain......... I mean, my body image has been really bad for years, and while recovery has stabilized my weight and my physical health, I still struggle with the body image blues.  Big time.  And for the last few weeks, it's been exceptionally miserable in the mirror.  This didn't help.

This time around, it wasn't a number that set me off.  It was a stupid stranger.  An inconsiderate, thoughtless, possibly-well-meaning, stranger.  And my former best bud Ed is  holding the door wide open, inviting me back into the relationship that I worked so hard to leave behind.

Comfort Zone

I am a person who loves routine and stability.  Which is why when I was asked to step out of my comfort zone, and do something that I'd rather not do, I panicked.

A few weeks ago I, was encouraged to start volunteering.  I mean, why not?  Anne Frank said "no one ever became poor by giving."  She may have meant that in financial terms, but I think it also applies to time.  I do have time to give, so why not give some?

Because I am afraid.  That's why.  Because I am afraid to commit doing something that I might not be able to handle.  How do I know I won't be able to handle it?  I don't.  And I won't, unless I try.  No matter how scared I am, I have to try.

So this afternoon I finally took a chance and emailed an organization I am interested in volunteering for.  According to their website, they require a minimum commitment of one hour a week.  I think I can handle that.  At least, I hope I can.  Volunteering is something that would help me in so many ways, especially volunteering for an organization like the one I chose to contact. Now that the ball is in motion, I'm in that information gathering stage, where I need to know as much as possible, so I can find a bit of a life preserver as I head out of my comfort zone and into the zone where the magic happens.

Here's hoping for some magic.....