When I was about 8, I came home from school and complained to my mom about some of the kids who were teasing me. I’d just started a new school where I barely knew anyone, and I felt isolated and alone. My mother listened to me for a moment, and gave me two pieces of Mom-Wisdom that hit me at my core, because when you are 8 and your mom tells you something, She Must Be Right. She’s Mom. She’s a superhero. Listen closely to her Mom-Wisdom. Continue reading
Oh, this is a big topic. It’s pretty much a requirement that if you write about an ED, you have to address Control. Everyone under the sun says that EDs are a response to a need for control in one area of our lives. I get it, I really do. I’ve read the books, I’ve seen the videos, I’ve heard the mantras. “Let go and let God,” or “You only lose what you cling to,” or a billion or so other quotes and phrases. I am a control freak, a perfectionist, an overachiever. I love control. I live for control. I love to track everything I do, from fitness to food to steps. I adore charts and all sorts of metrics and trend analyses.
I love the movie Mr. Mom. Yes, it’s an old movie and it’s dated, but it’s fun and harmless. There’s a great scene where the dad accidentally vacuums up the little boy’s blankie, which he calls his woobie. All sorts of things happen to his woobie – it gets smaller and smaller until finally the boy and his dad agree it’s time to let his woobie go. Sort of like in Peanuts with Linus’s blanket, but Linus is much tougher.
Through the work that I’ve done with T & D, I’ve given up a lot of woobies. I’ve stopped purging (mostly), I’ve tried to stop self-harming (eh), I’m trying not to eviscerate myself whenever I make a mistake, and I’ve started talking about my ED and my depression with a select few friends and my husband. With my team’s encouragement, I also gave up tracking my food and my online membership with Weight Watchers. I also gave up counting and calculating WW points.