Last November, I was drafting the first piece I published with Huffington Post — about how losing weight did not, as I had so long been taught it would, fix everything in my life (and had actually made a whole lot of things considerably worse). Although I was still deeply entrenched in what I’d long suspected was an eating disorder, the edges were beginning to unravel. I couldn’t sleep at night for my hunger. I’d sneak out of my boyfriend’s bed in the middle of the night, ostensibly to go to the bathroom, to swallow a surruptitious spoonful of nut butter. I walked through the world in a body that always felt too much, even when I’d carved it down to the bare, bloodless minimum. I was sure I looked fat in photos like this one:
Fast forward twelve months, and almost everything about my life is different. I’m no longer in Santa Fe, where I’d thought I might have been successfully laying down roots; the boyfriend in question (who was also the photographer) is definitely out of the picture, both before and behind the lens. Earlier this month, I successfully pitched and published a follow-up about how gaining weight ended up being the best thing I’ve done for my physical and mental health in perhaps an entire decade. And these days, I think I look pretty damn good in photos that look like this:
It’s hard to talk about how much of a life change this last year has been for me. I spent my entire twenties obsessed with my body, my weight, the food I couldn’t or wouldn’t eat. To disconnect my self worth from my ability to be smaller has been a paradigm shift, and it’s a project I’m not entirely done with.
That said, it is something I’m done writing about for a bit. Letting go of my eating disorder — and recognizing it in the first place — easily usurped the energy I’d been putting towards holding down the disorder in the first place. The whole process hurt so badly, it tore a book out of me — one that I was initially in a big rush to publish, but now think may need serious revisions that I’m not quite ready to make. I
need something different for a while. I’m finally feeling healed enough to use all that brain space for something new. Something that has nothing at all to do with food and body.
What that is, I’m not entirely sure. For now, I’m focused on small enjoyments: poetry readings, slow hikes, dinners with friends — living the life I’d literally starved myself of for so long. I’ve been in Oregon since the beginning of the month, and will be based here probably throughout the holidays. What’s next? Who knows! But I’m sure it’s going to be something delicious.
In the meantime, thanks for reading and enjoy the indulgences of the season. We’re not here for long, after all — so taste everything you can.