Jumping Ship

Tonight I did something that I haven't done in over 20 years.

A part of me is really sad that I caved.  I almost feeling like saying "you win" to my team.  I mean, after all, this was their idea.  Sure, it took four years for it to move from idea to encouragement to consideration to well, basically I've gone through the stages of grief, actually.  And I've finally moved from acceptance to action.

Tonight I intentionally ate meat.
And I didn't vomit.
And I didn't die.
And I didn't melt like the wicked witch.

Who knows what tomorrow morning will bring, or even the middle of the night, as my stomach is quite the hyper sensitive beast.  But I ate.  An entire cup of chicken rice soup.  I even drank the broth at the end of the cup.

This was (as exaggerated as it sounds) an excruciating task.  It meant giving up the title of "vegetarian" which I've coveted since I was 13 years old.  It meant giving up on what has proven to be the most useful tool in my eating disordered box of supplies.  My eating disorder has one less ally now, and that worries me.  Maybe it shouldn't, but it does.

It worries me because the path to recovery, which has been a dirt road littered with gravel and rocks, often challenging to travel, might just be starting to smooth out.  That should be good.  Making traveling forward easier, leaving more and more disordered eating behaviors behind me.  But those behaviors have been my travel companions for so long, leaving this one, the original, the biggest supporter behind?  It's anxiety inducing.

On the up side, it means that there is room for another tool, a healthier eating tool.  It means that, as long as there are no detrimental reactions to meat becoming a part of my body (and yes, I will give it a full six weeks to try out,) my menu will grow astronomically.

A part of me feels like I failed.  Like I couldn't keep up, even after more than 20 years, a vegetarian diet.  The reality is that when I became a vegetarian at 13, I only had one known food allergy.  20 some years later, I have a dozen.  Those are not choices.  I must avoid them.  The vegetarian avoidance is a choice.  It always has been.  One I hold very tightly to.  I mean, I am a vegetarian.  Period.  It's my choice to continue with that vegetarianism at the potential expense of my body, or make the choice to eat meat again as a way to better take care of my body.  I might hate the outside of my body, but I really do want to take care of the inside.

Distressing.  Confusing.  Sad.  Anxious.  Remorseful.

But also kinda proud of myself for pushing through this massive hurdle and making the attempt to take care of my body in the way it needs.  Kinda.

Sliding Doors

Choices.

Yesterday was a glum day.  Today was a pretty glum day, too.  I've been feeling overly exhausted lately.  Like, breathing-is-too-much-work exhausted.  Yesterday was the worst.  In addition to the exhaustion, my limbs felt like they were made of concrete.  Not fun.

And days like yesterday often multiply.  Like bunnies.  Leading to days on end of glum, gloomy, melancholy.

Yet.  While today was glum, and I am still carrying that excessive exhaustion (waiting on lab results from my doctor to see what's up) I made different choices than I have in the past.

Enter the sliding door analogy, the latest from the brilliant brain of my dietitian.

Sliding doors.  You can see what's on the other side, sometimes.  You know what will happen when you walk through the doors, sometimes.  Sometimes, you even choose to leave the doors closed.  Choose.  Choice.  Everything we do is a choice.  A life changing decision.  Every time we make a decision, we walk through a set of doors.  And every set of doors shapes our lives.  Every single decision we make is a life altering decision.  We just don't know it at the moment.

I'd add that it's how you CHOOSE to react that
matters the most.....

Turns out there was a movie called Sliding Doors that came out in 1998.  It illustrates the idea of sliding doors by sharing two perspectives of the same moment.  The moment where the main character catches the train and what happens after is one perspective.  The moment where she misses the train and what follows is the other.  Her life looks very different in both situations.  Catching the train, walking through those sliding doors, was a life altering choice.

It might not seem like it right now, at least it didn't to me, until my dietitian explained it further.  A few years back, she had tickets to go to a function that she really didn't want to attend.  But she made the choice to go, and in doing so, significantly altered her career in a very positive way.  A chance meeting with an old acquaintance led to a working partnership that to this day is still going strong.

Back to today.  Day two of gloomy me.  A day that was full of sliding doors.  Do I get out of bed or hide under the blankets a little longer?  (I hid under the blankets a bit longer.)  Do I eat a cookie with breakfast or not? (I didn't.)  Do I try to get any work done before I have to leave or not? (I didn't work.)  Do I go home after my day and nap or go for a walk? (I walked.)  Do I stop for frozen yogurt on the way home or run into the grocery store and get some watermelon? (I got watermelon.  And cherries.  And plums.)

They don't seem like big decisions with life changing results.  But in a small way, the act of choosing today was life changing.  I didn't let myself make today a wasted day of gloom.  I made a (semi) conscious choice to not let today turn into a day like yesterday.  I made (for the most part) healthy food choices today.  (I'm especially proud of the watermelon over frozen yogurt choice.)  I didn't let my eating disorder take the driver's seat today, which is usually what happens on these gloomy journeys.  I chose to go for a walk, despite my couch looking exceptionally comfy.  I may have been followed by a cloud of gloom, but instead of crying over the rain, I was grateful it was there to mask tears.

Sliding doors.  Choices.  Decisions.  Maybe one day, when I walk through the door, I'll meet the person of my dreams on the other side, in the pet store, picking up dog food.  That's why I finally realize that whenever I leave the house, I should be ready for anything.  But that's a post for another day.

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!)

The Two-Hour Rule

I am a fan of rules, as you may have already figured out.
(Ok, yes, sometimes I prefer to break the rules, but generally....)

The other day, I learned a new rule that is already impacting my choices.  It's called the "two hour rule."  My dietitian pulled it out from where ever she keeps her gold nuggets, and I have to admit, it landed quite nicely.  I'm going to explain it in regards to food and eating, but really, you can use this rule for anything, any time you have to make a choice.

Am I going to be happy I ate this in two hours?
Am I going to be pleased with this choice in two hours?
Am I going to agree with this decision in two hours?

I think you get the gist of the rule.

And let me tell you, using it for less than a week has already made me stop and think, and actually change my original decision, more times than I care to admit.

Cause really, if I eat the handful of m&ms now, in two hours, will I still feel satisfied?  Chances are pretty darn good that I won't.  As a matter of fact, if I eat a handful of m&ms now, there's a really good chance that within two hours, I'll have eaten several more handfuls, and still not feel satisfied.

However, if I make the decision to have some veggies and hummus, two hours later chances are very good that I'll still feel satisfied.

I know it seems silly, but this rule reminded me of the NutraGrain commercial.... guess that really was positive marketing, for once!

 

P.S.  I have no opinion on the quality of NutriGrain bars.  I just like the commercial's "one good choice leads to another" message.