It's No Wonder

People have been asking me recently why it is I believe I developed an eating disorder. This question has caused me to pause and reflect over the years as to what might have influenced me into this disorder. I was highly involved in ballet during my entire childhood. I have always loved acting/theatre/drama and basically all of the performing arts. When I was in my teen years I loved doing pageants and took classes on how to be a model. Most of what I loved doing was inherently based on esthetics. Now that I think about it, it is no wonder I developed an eating disorder.

During my life as a dancer I constantly wanted to be leaner, thinner, smaller. At times I wished I could even be shorter. I never understood why it was that I was so much "bigger" than all the other girls. Now mind you, I was taking up to 6 classes a week, that equates to at least 10 hours of dancing a week. I was very physically fit but in my mind I still was not small enough. I thought that, probably because my instructor constantly barked to "suck in that gut" and "pull in that tush" so that we could have better lines and posture. These statements really cut close to home especially when paired with the instructor's cane swatting you in "that" area and the informing you that you do not have a dancers body. It now makes perfect sense to me as to why I was inflicted with this disease at the tender age of 7. At 7 years old I had already been in the dance world for 4 years, over half my life. It was ingrained in me that one must appear to be lithe, lean and slender to be a dancer. Unfortunately for me I began to think that there was something dreadfully wrong with my body because it wasn't built to conform to the "dancer" guidelines.

When I was in middle school I developed a love for acting. I have been in productions ever since I was 13 years old. Yet it wasn't until I was 19 did I get my first leading role in a one act. It wasn't until I was 30 until I got my first leading role in a full length main stage play. I started to wonder if I wasn't cast as a lead simply because my body didn't conform to societal standards. When I did get my first leading role I thought it was based on the fact that I had lost 40 pounds that prior year. I had this disease before but this is when my obsession with this disease began. I then got my next main stage role over 10 years later when I was a die hard anorexic. I ate almost nothing all day. Then after rehearsal, when I got home, I was so exhausted and tired that I ate 2-4 servings of dry cereal. Then the next day I would restrict all day yet again because I had over eaten the night before. Such a vicious cycle and one that would take 2 months in rehab to break.

As a teenager, the hardest years on all of us when it comes to esthetics, I became involved in pageants. As much as I denied other peoples claims that pageants were only about how pretty a girl was, deep down inside I never ever thought that my body was good enough to be in pageants. I have no idea how I was able to walk around on a stage in 3 inch heels while wearing a bathing suit in front of an entire audience while a spot light was directed at me. I felt like I might as well have circled my "flawed" areas with a red marker as a way to let the audience know that I knew that I wasn't perfect and that I really "didn't fit in" in the whole pageant scene. When one is born into a family of women who actually built like women, with hips, butt and boobs, it's amazing how easily this woman can feel so unwomanly when around those who are boyish or thin.

So now at the lovely age of 33 I battle daily to reaffirm my positive traits. I have to constantly remind myself that I don't need to "look 10 pounds lighter", that I don't need to "reduce wrinkles and puffiness", that I don't need to be ashamed of what the tabloids may call a "baby bump". (Not that I've ever been in a tabloid but you get my drift.) If all women were suppose to have flat bellies, slender hips, long legs and no wrinkles then God would have created us all the same. And if that were the case what an absolutely boring world this would be.

Beauty does not define us. The number on a scale, the size one wears, the latest lipstick, anti-wrinkle treatment, anti cellulite cream and the latest kind of spandex gym wear does not define us. What truly defines us is who we are and what we contribute to society. I am reminded of a Bhuddist quote that I love; "Happiness is not measured by success. If one loves what they are doing then one can truly be happy." I'm still working on figuring out what it is that I love doing but I'll tell ya one thing, I'm no longer striving for unattainable "perfection". I no longer strive to look like the model on the cover of a magazine, or the current Miss America or the latest "it" actress. I'm striving to be me and the best version of me that I can be.

Black Cloudy Day

These are the worst kind of days. These days bring about a feeling of walking through peanut butter. Everything, no matter how small, is a struggle to get through. It's not that I don't want to accomplish anything on these days but due to the enormous strength it takes just to get out of bed on days like these I seldom have much more strength than to do the absolute minimum to just get by.

At the end of one of my Black Cloud Days I feel a heavy burden of guilt surrounding me for all the tasks that were left undone or unaccomplished. How can just emptying the dishwasher feel like too much? The guilt is compounded when Casey comes home and completes a task I didn't have the energy to do.

I know these kind of days will lessen over time. I realize that compared to where I was three months ago I am doing phenomenally well. Yet there is still that nagging inside my head (stupid eating disorder knows my weaknesses) telling me that I'm not doing enough, that I'm not good enough and that I never will amount to anything. On my Black Cloud Days this voice wins over and I give into the feeling of melancholy that only it can induce.

Here's the bright side of this whole sh-bang; I at least now can recognize days like these. I can at least now work on climbing out of the mound of peanut butter. No, it won't be easy. Most likely I will be struggling to get this goo off of me for quite sometime. However, I am fortunate enough to be able to have some self-reflection. It is this self-reflection that will enable to me move forward and leave these Black Cloud Days behind me. As my sister once said, tomorrow is another day and I hope it can be a Rainbow Cloud kind of day.