Moments in Time

Another thought provoking question in my writing course… What are the five defining moments of your life? How did each one take you to the next step of your journey? Our lives are defined by way more than five moments… But let me see if I can hone it down. I was born So were…

Fine

It feels so cliché to even write about this… I’m fine. How often do we say it? How often does someone ask, “How are you?” Barely a day goes past without these social niceties. The attendant at the service station, the telemarketer on the telephone, colleagues at work, friends on Facebook, my kids, husband, father….

Restricted

I’ve always considered myself an overeater. A binger. Food addict. Pig. Someone with no control over what I ate and destined to spend a life battling an obsession with body image and food. I have sought resources for eating disorder recovery for a decade. And as time went on, my seeking became more desperate and…

What did you say?!

Some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouth – so I’ve heard. Me? I was born with a chubby foot in my mouth. And it seems I’m a slow learner. The reason I journal and blog, and became increasingly shy, quiet and retiring over the decades, is I really suck at the…

The Bodyguard

I am writing my story. Not here – not right now. But on my own and in my own time. It is the project I choose to do in association with the Author Awakening Adventure. As part of the coursework, we choose an angel to watch and guide us as we travel the long, lonely…

In My Own Time

My recovery is not going at the speed some people would like. I’m too slow. Not making enough progress. I’m not doing enough work or making changes quickly enough. Apparently. It is absolutely true that many people who commence recovery – from anything – progress at a faster rate. They make changes and those changes…

Sidling Along

When I’m not going forward in recovery, I’m perfectly happy to accept sideways. Because moving sideways is not going backwards. I have recently spent the most glorious three days in a lovely little holiday house – big hikes through the bush, lots of champagne and chocolate, late nights lying in front of a roaring fire…

One Perfect Day

Well ladies and gentlemen – and those who do not confidently or comfortably fit into traditional categories – my thanks and gratitude for your ongoing patience with my intermittent pity parties. They’re boring and dull to read I have no doubt. But from my end of the equation, they are magically cathartic. The past few…

Choose

To eat or not to eat. That is the question. Choose. To write or not to write. Choose. Work. Sleep. Play. Choose. Delivered unscathed from the maternal womb. Breathe. Choose. Tentatively totter on tiny tubby legs. Choose. Fall over. Start over. Do over. Choose. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Choose. Failure. Success. Happiness. Sadness. Living and loving a meaningful life….

It’s a roller coaster…

So I’ve gone backwards. Slipping and sliding and rolling around. Bingeing and purging every day again. Feeling shit and stupid. I know it’s my responsibility – my choice. I can turn this back around any time I want to. Why don’t I want to? Everything we do in life, we do because it’s the thing…

Just hanging in

I feel like I’m barely holding on at the moment. Clinging on with my fingernails to whatever I can. I am exhausted. Mentally. Physically. Spiritually. Nothing left to give. And yet ironically, not sleeping. Isn’t that always the way? I swear if I could get some sleep, I’d have a slightly firmer grip on reality….

The lure of the dark side

If the universe was reasonable, it would allow me to “fully recover” before throwing curve balls in my direction. Unfortunately the universe isn’t reasonable. I have made progress. I really, really believe this. But I am far from recovered. And the moment the balls are curving towards me, there is an overwhelming desire to return…