National Eating Disorders Awareness Week: My Journey

A few years ago my cousin introduced me to Post Secret, a movement created by a very compassionate individual by the name of Frank Warren who created an outlet for people to anonymously mail secrets to him. The secrets can be funny, ridiculous, serious, sad, and anything in between. Every Sunday, he posts new secrets that millions of people read. Every Sunday, I am one of those millions of people that do. It’s a way, I think, for people to feel connected with others around the world. Sharing these secrets is a way to let go as well as bringing people together. It’s a relief know that there are others who are going through similar things or thinking the same thoughts.

Last Sunday’s secrets really hit home for me. They revolved around eating disorders. Here are a few examples:

(Probably the one that was the most personal and relevant for me.)

National Eating Disorders Awareness Week brings into light a very personal matter for a lot of people. It doesn’t just affect a certain weight, gender, age, or nationality. It affects a wide ranged of people for different reasons. It mostly is about a sense of control or the desire of being this ideal image or weight, but those aren't the only reasons.

I remember becoming extremely offended when this fight of what ‘real women’ look like started. Suddenly, naturally slender women were subjected to scorn in the media. I have friends of various height and weight combinations, and they are all exceptionally beautiful people. They have shown me that there is no one-size-fits-all aspect of beauty.

One of the things CK told me (and that I love him for) is that there is no such thing as the fairytale relationship. And so, this past weekend, he asked me a very hard question: “So then, why do you demand for the fairytale body?” This applied not only to my appearance, but also my health. It was one of those questions that not only broke down everything I tried to ignore, but once I let it out I couldn’t stop.

I don't refer to having had disordered eating as an eating disorder  because I believe the term 'eating disorder' places blame on the person suffering. Disordered eating is also more inclusive and, in my opinion, something you can rise from and have the power to change. Disordered eating has traveled with me like a codependent ally, needing me to need to control what I ate, when I ate, and how much. When I went to college, I lost a lot of weight. In total, my weight loss journey resulted in over 40 pounds. Most of it was due to changing my eating habits and preferring healthier options and exercising more. But when I became ‘thin’, I was deathly afraid of gaining it back. I’ve had panic attacks in the past because it was so terrifying to me to go back to that time when my body was a prison to the wonderful person underneath.

*Photos are from 1990 - 2012.

The evolution of my disordered eating habits became more about earning and deserving food than not eating. To be fair, I didn’t decide one day to be anorexic my sophomore year in high school. I just felt I didn’t have time to eat in the mornings and simply wasn’t hungry for lunch (and believe me, the food options in the cafeteria were not appetizing). So I would go almost twenty hours without eating, snack when I got home and then eat dinner. I drank hot tea in the mornings with lemon and sugar, but that was it. By the end of the first quarter, I was under 140 pounds, a first since I started puberty.

And then I got sick and began vomiting blood. The trip to the ER showed stomach ulcers from drinking tea (which is extremely acidic) on an empty stomach, and put a slight hole in my esophagus. I called this experience the time I was “accidentally anorexic”.

By college, I went gluten free (soy free and cane sugar free came about a year or two after). I started eating healthier and exercising and was rather happy with where I was at body image-wise. I changed my appearance often, even cutting my hair in a pixie cut. My exercising, however, became something I had to do and a way to cut calories. I would do the math and think: “Okay… I’ve burned a certain number of calories, enough to have burned off breakfast, and maybe that smoothie I want to have later.” (This is also known as exercise bulimia and a very common form of disordered eating.) I looked at my body more critically, wondering why I wasn’t getting the body I wanted. At one point I tried to survive on 1200 calories a day. I guesstimated my intake, so I’m sure I ate more than that. But it still stands that, while I was active and walking to class, I wasn’t eating enough. I think I even blacked out while driving at one point on my way back to campus housing for lunch.

When I started this blog, the first post began with me being hungry really early in the morning. The echoes of healing are apparent in many posts and recipes I’ve published in the last three years. Seeing a holistic nutritionist (Cheryl Harris of Harris Whole Health and Gluten Free Goodness) probably saved my life. She encouraged me to take small steps, read Johnston’s (2000) Eating in the Light of the Moon: How Women Can Transform Their Relationship with Food Through Myths, Metaphors, and Storytelling, and I slowly changed how I perceived eating and food. My self worth and image built itself up and, in increments, stopped focusing on calories and focused more on what my body needed and when.

Being diagnosed with hypothyroidism in 2011 also changed by body image and eating habits, and it really helped in knowing my struggles with weight weren’t entirely my fault. Yes, I could have eaten healthier and exercised more, but growing up with an underactive thyroid literally makes you the underdog. Not only does your metabolism suffer, everything does. How could I be healthy when I was sick all the time? How could I get better if it was my body that wasn’t working?

Since receiving treatment, I’ve noticed my body doesn’t get sick as often or as easily. And the slow change of feeling like I have to exercise to wanting to exercise as well as removing ‘good’ and ‘bad’  as labels for food (also called orthorexia, or a fixation of only eating what the person believes is healthy or ‘good’ food) really helped transform my mindset toward loving my body. I still have old paradigms rear their ugly heads when I’m stressed or feeling vulnerable, but I know where I am right now is a pretty awesome place to be.

The last thing that really changed everything for me was doing the Insanity Challenge. I went from 125 lbs to 142 lbs, eating up to 2500 calories to maintain efficiency. I started learning how to take cues from my body, and was absolutely fascinated how I became more solid, but didn’t get bigger. In horror, I realized just how much I denied my poor body nutrients in the name of fairytale beauty. I knew in theory that not eating enough will actually keep you from losing weight because your body is trying to keep you alive. But after completing the Insanity Workout, it finally resonated.

Even today, while I have moments (and they are fleeting, I’m happy to say) where I think I’m not pretty enough, smart enough, thin enough, whatever enough, I have a fantastic support system and I am dulling the words of that harsh Inner Critic we are all capable of having. I cook and eat because food nourishes my body and my soul. I exercise to see how my strength has improved physically and mentally. I have learned to treat myself with compassion and empathy, and am learning what situations open the door for negative thoughts (usually sleep deprivation, sickness, or getting stuck inside my own head for too long).

The one thing I really hope the world comes to realize is that people who suffer disordered eating do not do it for attention, and telling them about how there are people without food in other parts of the world do not help. And while it helps to receive reassurance (because I admit to needing reassurance from time to time), the only thing that will change their outlook on themselves and the need of control is their desire to change it. It may mean getting professional help (as I had), changing the environment that encourages this disorder, and taking as well as celebrating the little steps. And while I believe it is most certainly acceptable to change yourself to feel better health-wise, I have learned that seeking perfection is impossible, mostly because there is no such thing as the perfect person. It's okay to be any weight that makes you feel comfortable, so as long as you don't risk your health or happiness to get there. It's also okay to have a 'type', but just remember that the other types out there are equally awesome.

It also means looking at body shaming as it is: a form of violence and bullying. We need to stop focusing on beauty as a surface phenomenon and looking to create the word to mean something that is all-inclusive. Let's stop comparing ourselves to one another and looking for acceptance based on what the scale says or what the media tells us. We need to stop diminishing someone's worth based on their appearance, and STOP STOP STOP saying someone isn't beautiful in order to make someone else feel that they are. It is NOT okay. And the first step to achieving this is inward.

I am so grateful to my family, friends, and partner for changing my life. And thank you all who were so brave as to sharing their stories, with me personally, and on Post Secret. And for those who are still suffering, are recovering, and everywhere in between, I want to say this to you:

• You are beautiful in the present. At this very moment, you are the perfect you and you are on the path you need to take.
• You are the ideal you.
• You matter.
• You are loved, honored, and appreciated for being yourself.
• No one’s opinions of what you should look like or be like is important. The only thing that matters is how you feel.
• It does get better. I promise you.

I made this recipe as a way to honor those struggles, and to reach out to others. Following this recipe are some stories about disordered eating and body image. I cannot express to you how much I appreciated the bravery of these individuals to share their story. It will be updated throughout the week, but feel free to leave a comment also.

Mashed Potato Biscuit Hearts

420 g mashed potatoes*
75 g Garbanzo bean flour
100 g ground almonds (i.e., blanched almond flour)
65 g Brown rice flour
60 g Flaxseed meal
120 ml Whole milk
1 Large egg
1 tsp. Sea salt
3/4 tsp. Baking soda
3/4 tsp. Cream of Tartar

Preheat the oven to 375°F/190°C.
Mix together the wet ingredients (potatoes, milk, and egg) in a large bowl and add the dry (the dough will be a bit tacky).
Let the dough sit for five minutes.
On a floured surface, take a handful of dough** and flatten it to about an inch thick.
Using a heart-shaped cookie cutter (or any for that matter), press through the dough and place the cutouts onto a greased baking sheet (or parchment paper).
Continue to do so until all the dough has been formed, and bake for 30 minutes or until golden brown.
Remove from the oven and let them cool for about 10 minutes before eating.
Can be served hot or cold.

Makes 11 or more biscuits, depending on cutout size.

* I used the potato ricer to make the mashed potatoes and didn't add anything to them.

** I found it easier to take a handful of dough at a time than to just roll it out and cut.

Other's Stories (Coming Soon)

Story 1: The Legacy
The Influence of family: My first negative body image messages came from my own mother when I entered puberty. She made me self conscious about my weight gain. (Replaying the messages from her own mother about her struggles with weight gain. To lose weight that she gained during her own puberty, she ate only mayonnaise sandwiches for an entire summer. She did some severe dieting after each of her children to lose the baby weight, which affected her mood and energy levels.) I also remember my father making comments that 125 lbs was an ideal weight (for my mom) so that was a weight goal I strived to attain. No matter that I was actually 3 inches taller and actually looked ghastly at 125 lbs. As a result, I went through puberty and early adolescence (in the 1970’s)  “knowing” that I was “fat” and unattractive. As a result, I became anorexic in my mid-teens, something that was acerbated by a bout of mononucleosis.

The influence of media and product advertisements: Dress size, body weight, body image, attractiveness and perceived sexual desirability have always been interconnected. No matter that I actually felt my best when I weighed a certain amount. In order to fit into certain styles of clothing, I had to be a certain size. In order to accentuate my eyes and my cheekbones I needed to have a certain contour to my face (achieved only by dieting). The mirror: It lies. What I see is not what others see. As a result I have to use a tape measure; it doesn’t lie.

My regrets: I hate how I look. I have always hated how I look. Once in a while, when some time has passed and I see a picture of myself, I think, “Wow! I look really great in that picture.” But, if I think back to when the picture was taken and how I felt about my looks, I would say that I felt ugly or at least not attractive.

Legacy: I have watched helplessly as my own daughter has struggled with this amorphous monster, wondering what I could have done that I didn’t do; how I could have better protected her from the jaws of this gaping beast. I tried to offer unconditional love and support as she has struggled. I tried to keep my own self criticism and self esteem issues to myself. I tried to make every effort to not taint her with the family legacy of toxic messaging. I have tried to be her best cheer leader. But, as evidenced by her very public struggles with disordered eating, love isn’t enough. This dis-ease is insidious. It’s in our wiring, it’s in our cells…

Reaching Acceptance & Letting Go

It was three-thirty in the morning when it happened. That same clawing hunger that I thought I’d tempered came back with a vengeance. And it doesn’t just come at three-thirty; sometimes it happens at two. Has it been weeks since I’ve slept over six hours at one time, or months? Regardless, I haven’t slept a full night for quite some time, simply because the hunger pains are relentless. It’s like all I do throughout the morning is eat, and then after dinner before bed I eat. I eat and I snack and I graze. I feel like a black hole that’s always empty, or a pot that never fills, even when you’re making rice for the whole family. 

It's never enough.

I eat and I eat and I’m frustrated. Actually, I’m not as frustrated as I was on Monday (or on Wednesday, when I started writing this post), but still I’m frustrated.

A couple of weeks ago I received a letter from my doctor regarding the bone density scan I had done in February. The results weren’t alarming, but they weren’t rays of sunshine either: my bone density was below average.

I remember watching the machine scan my hip, and how humbling it was to see my bones on the computer screen. It occurred to me how little I thought of what was under the skin, the muscles, the veins, and the blood. Beneath all that I never considered how real my bones were, how instead of being the body of a small universe there were these white masts I used as foundation. It was so grounding a thought that when I received that letter, I felt unreal, deflated, like I could feel the very things that were my foundation giving in to the weight of what it held together.

I was no longer immortal, and I was suddenly aware of my humanity.

The results could have been worse. They could have shown that I had the bones of a one-thousand-year-old mummy with no way of fixing it. Instead, it just merely pointed out that my bone density was below average, and the good news was that there was treatment. (The Doctor had mentioned that too much Armour Thyroid could cause bone loss; however, I think my low bone density was the consequence of years of disordered eating.) So with that in the back of my mind, with some of my early hypothyroid symptoms returning and being Hungry with a capital “H”, you can see how it can leave a girl frustrated.

The hardest part for me is not knowing why I am so hungry, and whether is has to do with: my thyroid condition or some other health factor I haven’t considered (hypoglycemia, mineral/vitamin deficiency, etc.); my fitness regimen of exercising six days a week; or, even with additional meals and snacking, I’m still not eating enough.

And there is the matter of considering that it’s all three.

I usually get emotional when I talk about having a hypothyroid condition. I feel really vulnerable when I do, and that is probably why I don’t write about it very often on Meals With Morri (I’ve talked about the treatment, but rarely the condition itself and how it affects me). I am not the condition, and I don’t view it as part of my identity as a person. There are days, however, when I can’t explain this overwhelming fatigue or when I’m suddenly intolerant of the heat or the cold. I get embarrassed of my cold hands and the yellowish hue when both symptoms flare up. I get discouraged because of the added complications that make it harder to keep weight off or lose weight in general. The biggest fear I’ve had as of late is if I eat more, despite my very active lifestyle, I’ll become the next incarnation of Budai (without the jolliness). 

(source)

So this week I’ve been experimenting by writing out what I’ve been eating, taking my pulse before I go to bed and after I wake up, and working on balancing my active lifestyle with my calorie intake. I’m still waking up early, and I weigh no more than I did when I was weighed before my bone density was scanned. But if getting my bones in tiptop shape means weighing more, or if eating enough to sleep a full night in peace means I am destined to weigh (on average) 125 pounds, I accept those terms.

To be honest, fighting your body for what you believe to be best is hard work, especially when there is more than one way to being right. I could fight (and have been fighting) against my health’s shortcomings or I could work with them and accommodate those needs accordingly.

I’m done being my worst enemy, and I’m finally ready to be my best friend. I’m ready to work with my whole self to finding what works and what doesn’t work for me. Sure, I may get frustrated and I may have days when my symptoms flare up. And yes, there will be days I think it’s unfair that I can’t wear a size 4 dress. But having the health that I have has taught me the importance of pacing myself, being honest, going with the flow, and to never give up trying. It shows how marvelous life truly is in all of its twists and turns and complexities.

I may have gotten up earlier than I wanted to today with a sniffle and a sneeze, and I may have “a rumbly in my tumbly” like a certain Silly Old (Taoist) Bear, but I smile and I enjoy the beautiful spring day as it is.

And really, that’s all we can ever ask for.

Simply Green Brown Rice

360 g Sprouted brown rice
500 ml Water (or more if you want a creamier consistency)
15 ml Unrefined apple cider vinegar
3 tsp. Minced dried onion
1 tsp. Sea salt
1/2 tsp. Herb de Provence
1/4 tsp. Whole cumin seeds
1/4 tsp. Cracked pepper
1/4 tsp. Dried tarragon
1 bunch (126 g) Curly leaf parsley
Juice of 1 Lemon
30 ml Olive oil

1 Lemon, cut into wedges and served as garnish

Combine the rice, water, vinegar, and spices into a pressure/rice cooker or medium saucepan and cook until the rice has softened and taken a creamy consistency (time will vary based on how you usually prepare brown rice and how much water you put in).
Place the parsley, lemon juice, and olive oil in a food processor and pulse until the ingredients form a pesto-like quality.
Fold in the parsley mixture with the rice, and then serve warm with the lemon wedges on top.

Makes 8 servings.

Bacon & Gouda Stuffed Chicken Breast

Before I give you the easiest stuffed chicken recipe you will ever make, I want to talk to you about my dream last night. If you don’t already know this about me, I have a prodigious fear of zombies (Though, surprisingly, I dug Zombieland). It isn’t quite so much a phobia that gives me panic attacks and fainting spells, but I do have vivid nightmares about them. Not only are they extremely terrifying, they are also reoccurring.

It all started my first year in college, around the time school was letting out for the winter holidays. I went and saw my first ever zombie movie at the AMC Tysons Corner 16. It was Resident Evil 3, and it was only the beginning. At first the zombies looked like your typical human being in my dreams. The post-apocalyptic landscape was industrial and familiar, only without cars and them walking down the highway, staring straight ahead with vacant eyes. Whenever I walked near one they seemed to come out of their trance and would tell me to get away or they’d bite me. They knew what they were, and although they looked like any average Joe or Jane I’d meet on the street, I knew what they were also.

After three years, they’ve progressed and evolved into different images. Sometimes they were rotting and bloody, and I would usually have something to defend myself with. Sometimes they looked demonic and beautiful; they were sentient, articulate, and even more horrible to deal with. It’s the conscious, unearthly looking ones that terrify me the most, and they’re the ones that are often the zombie part of the zombie nightmare experience.

(c) Link

For a while I thought they symbolized my need for control of my own life and destiny, or not wanting to become part of the crowd that followed everything I was against. This morning's took on a new feel to it that was different from the others. I was uprooted from my home, because they could easily go in and out of buildings as they pleased. There was a secret government agency involved, where technology was exceedingly developed and they were about as helpful as a griddle skillet for a soup recipe. I spoke with them and I ran from them in this vast hotel with many halls, windows, and rooms. I was alone against the world, and I woke up with my heart thudding so hard against my chest and tears in my eyes. It took a few minutes until the pounding in my ears subsides. At least it was light enough I could see my room clearly with the morning light, and since my stomach was telling me it wanted pancakes with its grumbles I figured it was time to get up anyway.

As I was preparing and eating my first delicious creation of the day, I started thinking about my latest nightmare, and I was struck with such an enlightening realization that there was actually a very logical explanation to these dreams.

I was hungry.

The dreams started when I began exercising and losing weight, and they became more graphic the more restrictive I became with my lifestyle. I think it was my subconscious telling me that it was wrong for me to go to bed hungry, that these awful nightmares were a way of encouraging me to give what my body wants and to nourish its most basic need. Zombies are particular and picky; only the freshest human will do. Although it is very clear I’m eating more throughout the day (and not gaining weight, despite my constant fear of doing so), it still isn’t enough to satisfy my body completely, whether it’s feeling contentedly full at that moment or not.

And I think it does have to do with self-control, if only a little. I think I was (or still am) afraid of giving in to what I wanted and needed, and that my body had more control over me than I believed it should. But really, what is the distinction? The Body isn’t a separate entity from the the Mind and Spirit, and I shouldn’t be treating it like it is. It should be nourished, loved, and respected just as much as the other two without criticism, exceptions, or regulations. The amazing thing about the physical body is that it knows what’s what before anything else that is a part of you. Everything else beyond the five senses can be physically manifested because even your own mind knows that before You do. Fascinatingly confusing stuff, am I right? Hopefully my future dreaming endeavors, whether they are zombie-filled or not, will be brighter, gentler, and kinder from now on.

Until then, here is a recipe anyone can do and do it well. Stuffed chicken breast is such a versatile dish in how it’s prepared, what it’s stuffed with, and how the overall dish will end up looking on a plate. I like to stuff it with various cheeses and greens, and serve it over a bed of rice with another vegetable as a side. But you can stuff it with apples or other fruits also. You can bread it, glaze it, marinade it, and possibly fry it. You can top it with a sauce or crust it with herbs. This is such a great dish for those who want a nutritionally balanced meal without compromising flavor... and their wallet.

Bacon & Gouda Stuffed Chicken Breasts

4 Chicken breasts, butterfly-cut and pounded out
9.5 oz Pork belly pieces (or bacon), thinly sliced
4 oz Smoked Gouda (or 4 deli slices), thinly sliced and halved into crescents
4 Garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
1 tsp. Herb de Provence
Olive oil, for greasing the pan

Preheat the oven to 350ºF.
Place the large skillet over medium heat, add the olive oil and cook the pork belly until it is crispy with a satisfying crunch.
Remove the pork belly pieces from the pan and allow cooling until they can be safely handled.
Add the cheese and bacon to one side of the butterfly-cut chicken breasts and sandwich the stuffing with the other side.
Lay the chicken breasts next to each other on the pan and evenly garnish with the garlic, remaining bacon pieces, and Herb de Provence.
Back for 45 minutes and serve hot.

Serves 4.