#to me a lot of ethical vegans i know use veganism to support disordered eating

[librarycards]

ive been in recovery from disordered eating for some years now and would like to start observing kosher more thoroughly, but am concerned about the possibility of restrictions making it harder not to relapse. as a vegan, do you have any advice on maintaining a loving relationship with eating while still finding value in having rules around food?

thank you so much for this question! i think for me it's key to think about food and eating less as a set of discrete "behaviors" toward certain "safe"/"unsafe" foods (as it were) but rather as a holistic part of our lives intimately entangled with not only our social poitionalites but also our values.

for me, a vegan practice doesn't begin or end with food, and what i do or do not eat is not important bc of what certain foods "are", but instead the means by which they got to me, and the conditions under which they are / are not commodified/scraped of their connection to actual living things & systems of oppression. it's honestly hard to live a life with an actual vegan ethical framework while in what might be considered an "active" eating disorder - i know because i am trying to maintain this balance while also Not Getting Better right now. a fixation on the artificial stuff like calories, macros, and "health"-based moral measures is antithetical to an approach that considers the "how" and "why" of food, rather than the what.

i think that this has many parallels and overlaps with kashrut, which doesn't exist in a food-related vacuum, but instead among a constellation of halachic practices that help you feel more connected to gd, to your community/tradition, and more, and will help you materially live a life that will aid you in a more collective practice of tikkun olam. this isn't a set of restrictions designed to make you "perfect," after all. it isn't designed to remove you from community with others in favor of self-fixation. instead, it's a nonnormative way of thinking with what we eat, and imbuing food with a newfound connection to our broader practices of healing and liberation!

now, this is well and good, but what about practical matters? when on-the-ground shopping or ordering, it can be really helpful to go to aisles, spaces where everything fits a given guideline by default - that way, it's easy to catch yourself straying from checking to see if it's vegan/kosher and checking to see if it's "safe." same with spending time with loved ones who already make and incorporate these foods; there are tons of opportunities to eat spontaneously in ways that your brain might try to stop you from doing. i think particularly in the case of keeping kosher, if you pray, it's really important and nice to keep an open connection w/ gd in regard to the relationship between kashrut, harm, and healing. this is what i do each time a big fast day comes around, and inevitably come to the conclusion that the picuach nefesh mandate outweighs any excuse i can make for why i "should" fast. you will likely notice this if you find yourself using keeping kosher more as an excuse for restriction rather than a meaningful practice of connection.

what's important to remember is that so-called "dietary restrictions" are only restrictions due to an inaccess to alternatives, whether via inaccess to community/support or physical inaccess to the food you need. all communities that work, work based on shared rules/values/care practices -- so surround yourself with people for whom kosher is an act of care, not punishment. i think this is really the key: i don't view being vegan as a punishment, but an opportunity. for my comrades who also enjoy vegan food, it's also an opportunity to eat lots of food - including food that has challenged me in ed- ways. even though i am by no means a model recovering/recovered person (faaar from it) i find so much value and joy and liberation in the unrestrained, generous, and delicious meals we get to enjoy, whose excellence is only amplified by a grounding in intentionality and hope.

[vegance]

Hey, so I just wanted you to know that your blog's changed the way I look at veganism and the livestock industry.

Unfortunately I won't be going vegan anytime soon because I have disordered eating habits and I'm not in a place where I'm ready for that big of a change, but I'm definitely gonna try some new things.

I think what really hit me is that you're right about leftists wanting to Do Something but covering their ears and yelling whenever veganism is brought up, despite it being something that would genuinely make a difference. It IS way worse for the environment to eat animal products and all the animal industries want us to turn on each other and hate quinoa so we keep buying into the propaganda they're spewing out on the daily and make fun of vegans instead of cheering you on. Maybe it's because a lot of the interactions vegans and non vegans have can get hostile on both sides, or maybe its just some imagined bitterness being stoked by outside forces (ie the industries that want us to hate each other.)

Some people have stronger willpower than others but that doesn't give us the right to be jerks to those people just because their mere existence makes us feel bad. Leftists should instead try to make changes where we can, and where we can't we can at least acknowledge the facts and try to do a bit better. I think there's this perception that vegans dislike non-vegans as a rule and accuse everyone else of hating animals and vice versa. But ignorance and willful ignorance are very different things. Even if leftists want to pretend that there are ways of being fully ethical when using animal products, we can't pretend that the industry isn't driving the planet closer to the brink of environmental collapse. If we can hate oil companies with such united vitriol, why aren't we hating factory farming with the same enthusiasm? Like I said, leftists should stop trying to poke holes in a fact-based, bulletproof argument and if we can't change for whatever reason we should support the people who can.

We all have to limp towards some kind of sustainable life together now and I think instead of being so indignant, non-vegans should be saying: 'Vegans do have it right, animal industries are cruel and destroying the planet, but I want to keep my life the same because I'm comfortable like this. I'm not ready to change, but maybe I can do things differently where I can afford it.' and vegans could then say: 'We can help.'

It sounds cliche, but we're stronger together as long vegans are willing to drag a few of us along until we get our act together... I'm behind you, but I'm a bit slower. Please wait for me.

Thank you for pointing things out in a way that makes sense but doesn't exclude anybody for being ignorant or stubborn. It worked. Keep going. Things are starting to change.

thank you!!

honestly being vegan for some time now, the thing that bothers me is truly anti-vegans and their willful ignorance, not non vegans, and especially not non-vegans who ally themselves with veganism.

people change at their own pace and and have different struggles they face.

from the point I started to reduce my meat consumption to when I became vegan, it probably took me five years? and I was vegetarian for a year with the clear plan to go vegan before I made the change.

it should be a sustainable change that lasts. And anyone who is open to questioning their beliefs and habits is welcome here, and I‘m always willing to help where I can :)

[exsanguinated-doves]

Hello again, Maisie. Back from the dead, I am. So sorry that I wasn't so haste to reply as I did not get any feedback on the reblog I had kindly directed you to. Whether or not I am a masochist for coming back to this post with a prybar, no one will ever know.

This is true. People with disabilities who, for example cannot digest most plants or people with restrictive eating disorders that would be triggered, should not be expected to go on a strictly plant-based diet.

Religious beliefs, I do not believe something being part of a religion makes it ethical. Something being a tradition doesn't make it ethical. Christians justify animal exploitation with "God put animals here for us to eat." I will talk to them about why that doesn't make animal exploitation okay. I think it is the same concept with other religions but it is not my place, as a white european, to go and tell a muslim in India what to do. Indian and muslim vegans can advocate in their spaces.

Congratulations for getting the first correctly, though needing minor alternations for word use. The second one however, I am mostly disappointed. You have stated you are a white European, who cannot speak for others' religions--then why bother to have the opinion of "Just because it's someone else's religion...it isn't ethical." I wonder how you are able to come to these conclusions without it being taken severely negatively, because that's careless racism at best, and racial discrimination and prejudice against other religions at worst.

Well, this depends a lot on where you live and what you have access to. If you find yourself in a position where you cannot find the items to sustain a healthy plant-based diet, it's okay, don't risk your health! But veganism being inherently pricy is surprisingly a common misconseption. This is because the famous plant-based people are usually "health vegans." They eat a lot of fresh produce, avocadoes, quinoa, spirulina powders etc. Their meals are healthy and aesthetic so they get a lot of likes. They might even shame people for not eating healthy, which is wrong. If plants are only a diet to someone, they should stop shaming others for eating differently. If veganism was a diet, like keto, vegans would have no right to push it on others.

If you wish to be redirected to news reports listing the skyrocketing prices of vegetables, or a board with relevant statistics about the market, or perhaps you simply would like to be taken to your nearest grocery store with vegetables shipped from Mexico, then I cannot help you with that, as you can access those charts in the comfort of your own home provided you have a good internet connection. Veganism, for ARAs, is a social justice movement, against the killing of animals. But remind me again what they're truly after, conversion (by forcing veganism to people who are not interested and guilt-tripping them by saying they support animal abuse if they aren't vegan) demonization, (by saying that it doesn't matter if the animal is slaughtered humanely they're still killed nonetheless) or self-assurance (to know that what you're doing is the path of saints and decreed by the divine)? Because I'm starting to see this quite subtle but harrowingly eloquent retribution from ARAs--"the animal was killed in an inhumane way!" and if the animal was, indeed, the second argument on their belt is "whatever slaughter is animal abuse!! it's bad!!" My friend, you're acting completely ouroboros.

It appears to me that the term for Vegan has quickly become like the term Orwellian--used in the manner not originally intended for, and has lost it's meaning over time, like how ARAs use the lovely term "carnist" to refer to anyone they deem morally vile for eating meat. Whether derogatory or not, I do not know, but it seems to be a popular term.

It's very nice and all to promote and advocate for veganism and eating vegetables but your actions of, speaking very loudly and voicing your opinions from zero experience of animal husbandry and zero exposure to animal cruelty except from YouTube and horrifically stupid PETA articles, as dipping your head into straw will only be very bad for you in the future. Advocating and promoting eating vegetables and consuming plant produce is very nice, I support that! It is very kind of you to also do it for ease of mind, to know that an animal was not slaughtered for your meal. But it's..not nice of you to think that everyone should follow that same mindset, and lifestyle, such as yours, no matter how achievable, because of a moral dilemma. I'm glad you took the time to get an infographic up and share your own experiences, but dear friend, unless you read the sentences in this reblog carefully, we'll go back and forth in this dance together. Whether you wish to reply to this or not, it matters not as long as you have read this. Goodbye now.

i saw a farmer claim the cows they are raising for beef will never know fear or pain. since when is being killed at a slaughterhouse painless?????

[darkwood-sleddog]

I'm vegetarian (not for ""ethical"" reasons) and I don't like quinoa. I also grew up with a hunter for a grandfather. I grew up with deer heads on the walls and bear skins in the basement at my grandparents house. I don't eat a typical vegan/vegetarian diet, tho I do eat vegan alternatives. I just, don't eat meat or gelatin or anything of that sort because I don't want to and never will. The argument against working dogs Is phenomenally stupid, tone deaf and devoid of any actual science or logic

Yup, that’s called a diet that works well for you.

I myself really enjoy a lot of meat alternatives, tofu etc. It’s just food.

One could argue that hunting is perhaps one of the most sustainable ways you can eat meat, I have 100% support for that.

[shefightslikeagirl]

Or I mean... consider that she made everything up so she’d have an interesting backstory for her album and book??? Like the rats that certainly aren’t alive anymore, the “lesbianism,” the Veganism we all knew was over WAYYYY before she claimed she got “copper poisoning” and had to stop, etc. It’s all just marketing.

I'm assuming this is in response to me updating the FAQ post about EA's hospitalization.

In short: yes, a lot of it is marketing, but I wrote that post as a reference because it wasn't always framed that way. EA did get hospitalized. Multiple times. But the stay chronicled in the book was always questioned.

That post is about six years old now. I know the fandom is a much different space than it was back then, but there was a time when the timeline of EA's hospitalization was a major discussion topic. It would crop up in the Asylum Forums now and again and it was always a source of frustration on the WVC. That post was made on the the tail end of all that, too – I think the height of all that "drama" (if it could be called that) was probably between 2008 and 2010 with the first two editions of the book.

It's important to note the Asylum story was originally expected to be a tell-all autobiography; less fantasy, more reality. That was the fandom's expectation when I joined the forums around 2009, anyway. Everyone was operating under the assumption that the dramatic tone shift between Enchant and Opheliac was due to a hospitalization-slash-suicide-attempt. This idea was supported by interviews around that time, as well as the story of the faerie that was published in the re-release of Enchant.

So you can imagine that when EA announced the hospitalization was after Opheliac, it was a bit of a bombshell. It shattered people's perception of how the Asylum [and the stage show] evolved. So people tried to pin the timeline down even harder and I ended up compiling the info I could find as a point of reference. Everything Emilie had said about it, everything that others close to her had mentioned, and the discrepancies between different sources. (I try to keep FAQ pages and masterposts as current as possible in case the fandom makes a resurgence, so I add info as I see it.)

So, yes, at this point it's widely accepted in the fanspace that The Asylum... is primarily a fictional story embellished over a real-life account of Emilie's stay in a psych ward. But it wasn't always that way.

As for your other points–

On sexuality: not touching that topic with a ten foot pole. EA has publicly spoken on the topic in many different ways, in many different avenues, and it isn't my place to comment on it. She's a survivor. Sexuality is fluid. Let it be.

On veganism: EA was a long time vegan until she was forced to transition into vegetarianism in 2014.

Those of you who have known me as a vegan for a very long time may be surprised at my use of eggs and yoghurt (honey I’ve never had an ethical problem with as long as it comes from a good source). To be brief (not my strong point), I became dangerously copper toxic a few years ago, which resulted in my becoming terribly allergic to all, and I do mean ALL, vegan protein sources, those being, ironically, the foods highest in copper. Copper toxicity is a danger for some vegans but not for others, depending on your chemistry, use of medications, past use of birth control pills (ewww, DO NOT do it, ladies), and even personality type (high-strung ladies in particular, not joking), so if you are successfully rocking it out vegan-style, I think that’s fantastic. But I can’t, and I found that out the hard way, i.e. being rushed to the ER four times during one European tour alone. After months of cutting out all vegan protein sources, meaning that I was getting exactly no protein whatsoever (stupid, I know that, but I’m stubborn), my body had begun to break down. Anyone remember when I was super crazy thin on tour a few years back? Are you one of those Plague Rats whose mother was writing me telling me that I was setting a bad example for their child by being so thin, implying that I had an eating disorder? That was during this time. Makes sense now, doesn’t it… (Rolling Scone, 2014)

I also think she mentioned having Celiac's Disease at some point, but I can't find a source on that.

On rats: Yes, her pet rats have likely passed away, but what does that have to do with anything?

[fatkidvegan-blog]

On Battling Vegan Depression

I am an empath and a highly sensitive person with bipolar disorder, which means that I am always at the mercy of my emotions, which are in turn at the mercy of what’s going on around me.  I imagine that a good number of vegans are also empaths and/or highly sensitive people, so this may be one post in a sea of many, but I just wanted to share my experience in the short time that I have been vegan.

As a lot of you know, I went vegan for health reasons. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about animals; in fact, I loved them, but I was blind and ignorant to what’s going on in the world, and my mind had never made the connection between the creatures I love so dearly, and the double bacon cheeseburger on my plate.  Once, I explained to my first therapist about how I used to feel like it was important to be educated about what was going on in the world, but now every time I watch the news or stumble across an article about what’s happening, I have to fight off this massive existential crisis, because it’s all so upsetting. She explained to me that it’s best to avoid things like that, because you can’t do anything to change it, so you’re basically upsetting yourself for no reason. I took this to heart and, while it may not be the most ideal approach, it has made things a little easier on my mental health.

It didn’t take long after going vegan for me to want to reach out to other vegans for support. My husband, son, and family are all meat eaters, and while everyone is pretty supportive, it’s still very difficult, and I kind of felt like a freak. So off I went, joining every facebook group I could find. In these groups, I began to see more and more posts about the ethical side of veganism, and while I mostly tried to avoid it, because I knew it would upset me, a little part of me kept saying, “But wait, I care about the animals, too!” So eventually, this world opened up to me, and I became enlightened, for lack of a better word, to the treatment of animals in our carnist society. I ate it up, listening to podcasts, reading articles, and watching documentaries, hungry to learn everything I could about the lifestyle, but still being careful to avoid anything too graphic. The turning point for me was when I was recommended to watch the Gary Yourofsky speech on youtube that he gives to a classroom. Embedded in this speech (much to my surprise), was a video a few minutes long with slaughterhouse footage. So here I was, face to face with the thing I’ve feared most, and I couldn’t bring myself to stop watching it. It felt like I owed it to the animals to see exactly what they go through, only to wind up as a dollar burger at the drive through. I was enraged, I was shocked, and above all, I was destroyed. I watched the video, sobbing, and saying, “I’m so sorry” over and over. Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime, the video ended, but it continued to haunt me for much longer. It followed me to dinner with my meat eating family, it permeated my dreams, and every waking moment it was in the back of my head, eating away at me. How could I have ever contributed to such savage and barbaric cruelty? 

I posted in my local group, explaining that this, and other things I had heard in podcasts, were things I had been carrying with me, and that I was now sad all the time. I got a lot of good responses, and many more people who didn’t necessarily have an answer, but just wanted to tell me that they felt it too. 

It’s been a while, and I still remember the video, everything I’ve heard, and everything I’ve read; it’s just not as raw anymore. As a new vegan, those things were always in the back of my mind, keeping me from cheat meals, and encouraging me to speak my truth whenever the opportunity arises. In many ways, I’m glad that these videos exist, because I do believe we should all be aware of what’s going on. I think they serve the purpose of keeping people on track who would otherwise lack the self control to do so (I’m not here to judge; self control is definitely not my forte!). 

I still have many bad days, where I feel like I’m weighted down by the cruelty. I’ve had moments where I feel like I don’t even want to live in a world where 56 billion farmed animals (not including sea creatures) are slaughtered for food because of it. It’s on every TV commercial, every billboard, everywhere I turn. I fight every day for kindness and empathy for other humans, and some days are much more difficult than others. 

However, there is beauty in the knowledge that people are changing for the better every single day. Things are leaps and bounds better than when I was a vegetarian in high school. There are more of us than ever before, and we are growing all the time. 

In my experience, and from the answers I’ve gotten from the people I’ve spoken to about this, the best way to combat this sadness is to get involved. My specific form of activism right now is being a Joyful Vegan (stolen from our lord and saviour Colleen Patrick Goudreau). I will stay on my path, and I will show everyone how happy I am, how easy this is, and how delicious the food is, and slowly but surely, people become curious and start asking me questions. I do this through the blog, through social media, and just by being an example to friends and family. I keep myself so distracted, that I hardly have time to think anymore about how sad I am.

Volunteer at animal shelters, rescues, sanctuaries, and with local groups in your area. If you can, foster or adopt a rescue animal. My Chile is a constant source of happiness in my life. 

Get involved with groups like Vegan Outreach and go leaflet. You may not convert anyone on the spot, but you are planting seeds!

My favorite source of vegan joy is going to our local farmed animal sanctuary, Santuario de Karuna. This little slice of bliss is nestled in the mountains East of Albuquerque, and run by two beautiful souls who give these animals lots of love, a great life, and a forever home. I bring them donated produce, and in return, I get to go love on these adorable creatures. Let me tell you, NOTHING makes your day like a pig snorting his little wet nose into your hand, looking for treats. 

This is a list of animal sanctuaries around the world, so check and see if there’s one you can visit nearby.

I guess my point is to be a light in the darkness around you. Sometimes it’s hard to be the only light, but I promise you, people are going to see what you’re doing, and eventually you’ll win them over, too. I’m going to keep fighting, and the lights are going to keep growing. Remember, be the change you want to see in the world!

Special thanks to Tamara Hubbard and Coral Ricketts of Santuario de Karuna, the ABQ~Vegan group on facebook, and everyone around me who has to either listen to me constantly ramble about veganism, or deal with me being a hot mess, depending on the day! I love you guys <3

[moonmotherrr]

@our-shadeslayer

What am I doing to keep from supporting a cruel industry? I’m busting my ass everyday to take care of my 40+ animals so I can live and eat more ethically, reduce my carbon footprint, and know I’m eating animals that were treated well. This isn’t something I was raised doing. It’s something I decided to do.

Eating meat goes waaay beyond ‘my taste buds’. I have several health issues that make a vegan diet do horrendous things to my body (and my mind; carbs can take a pretty big toll on mental illness). I’ve spoken with doctors and tons of other people who share my disorders through the years - meat is what’s best for me.

I’ve put effort into changing my entire life so I don’t have to support commercial agricultural industries - because I can’t thoroughly vet them all, I can’t be sure every parcel of meat I buy from them came from an animal that was treated kindly and killed quickly, and that’s important to me. I put lots and lots of effort into ethical and humane farming practices. And to answer your question, yes, a bolt through the head does sound humane. It IS, by definition, humane. Putting a baby chick through a shredder honestly probably provides an instant death too, but until we’re sure of that I’ll remain uncomfortable with the idea. As for cutting throats, I don’t prefer it. For smaller animals such as chickens and rabbits, I know it leads to unconsciousness within a few seconds, but a few seconds of pain is too long for me.

I research and practice all of my dispatching methods thoroughly before I go through with them, so I can kill my own animals humanely - animals I raised from birth and most certainly love and care for. I went through the trouble of building a $500 enclosure so my rabbits don’t have to live in cages like most rabbits who are raised for meat unfortunately do. My chickens are free range. I don’t have plans to take the babies away from my dairy goats, there are lots of things you can do to keep them together and still have extra milk left for your family (though I don’t personally drink milk). I also have plans to raise my own fish - I don’t support the commercial fishing industry or what it’s doing to our planet.

I grow organic crops for my animals and myself, something that’s honestly an entirely different story, and incredibly difficult to do. I don’t use pesticides, chemical fertilizers, or the labor of underpaid immigrants, something I’m sure the people who grow and produce your perfectly innocent vegan food can’t say.

I have plans to make blankets from the furs of my animals, clothes from their wool, and all kinds of things from their leather. The alternative to this is to buy all of my clothes and blankets from companies who’s carbon footprints are massive (not to mention the slave and child labor). I’m not going to support that. I’m doing anything I can to get away from that.

I am not better than you. Neither of us are perfect. Not everyone has the time or ability to farm, or the privilege of owning even a few acres of land, I understand this. But are you really going to accuse me of spreading misinformation? I think it’s safe to say I know a little more about crops and livestock than you do.

Take a little time to think about who’s carbon footprint will be bigger in the end. Yours, or mine?

[blackcoffeeandblankpagess]

Hey! So I see that you are vegan and also that you suffered from an eating disorder and I just wanted to ask how you went about doing that? How long after you recovered did you go vegan and how did your parents and loved ones take it? Do you feel like its ever triggered you in any way? I'm asking because I'm ED recovered as well and would love to go vegan but I feel unsure.

Hey! Great questions. I just want to preface this with saying that even though I’m in a much better place mentally than I was ~4years ago in the midst of the worst part of my ED I would not call myself recovered. I still have a lot of struggles but relative to where I was then I’ve made strides in the right direction. I think it’s kind of a lifelong process.

(this is long so read more)

That being said- I can’t really account for any length of time that I was “recovered” before I went vegan. If anything though veganism has helped me make the mental progress that I have. I went vegan last february during my freshman year of college when I was super depressed and anxious, ED thoughts still very much present. My choice to go vegan wasn’t fueled by ED motives though, it was actually the opposite. I had read How Not To Die and saw that studies had been conducted which showed that participants who gave up eggs and chicken experienced a reduction in symptoms of depression equivalent to participants taking leading antidepressant meds. That’s actually the stat that first made me interested in veganism. I initially decided I was only going to try it for a month and see how I felt (acting purely from a health perspective) which I think helped with getting my mom to support it since I did not initially approach it as a lifelong commitment. Of course, I learned so much more about the health/ethical/environmental aspects during that month that I haven’t gone back since. 

I had my mom also read How Not To Die so that she could see where I was coming from and would genuinely believe that veganism wasn’t just another avenue for me to take to promote my eating disorder. I was definitely nervous about telling other family members about it out of fear that they would assume it was my ED speaking- hell, if I were them and didn’t know much about veganism I would have also assumed it was ED fueled. I think there are 2 really important pieces to proving friends/family/etc that it isn’t just another facet of your ED. First- know your facts. If you can’t justify why veganism is right for you from a health/env/ethical perspective then it is definitely going to call into question your motives for doing it. Know how to answer questions about why you’re doing it, where you’re getting nutrients, etc. Second, and probably most important as it relates to an ED, make sure you are eating ENOUGH. Generally speaking, plant foods are more calorically dilute than animal products so you have to eat a greater volume of food in order to adequately fuel yourself. I think any skepticism my family may have had probably diminished once I was actually with them and they could see the portions of food I was eating. If you show them that veganism is not a means of restriction, then they will have no reason to suspect that it is.

I think your last question about feeling triggered is really interesting and kinda hard to answer. I wouldn’t say that veganism has made me feel triggered but I do think you have to be very vigilant about why you aren’t eating certain things. I definitely think there can be a negative aspect to limiting food choices after struggling to accept all foods for so long, HOWEVER, it is very important to remember that (depending on where you live/access to a kitchen) you can buy/make a vegan version of just about anything. If you’re feeling like veganism is becoming too restrictive and negating the progress you’ve made regarding your mindset around food, I would say to challenge that by going out and buying vegan ice cream or something to show yourself hey, I can still eat these foods, they aren’t going to kill me, everything is fine…..Did that make sense? I rewrote this last part a few times because I feel like I can’t say it right.

I think veganism is what you make of it. You can use it as a tool to restrict or you can use it as a means of healing your body and repairing your relationship with food. I also think that once you are fully educated on it there is not even a decision to be made. I can’t imagine ever willingly eating animal products again and I know that is an ethical, environmental, and health based decision, not ED based.

I hope this helped! If you have any more questions feel free to ask any time and if you give veganism a shot pop back in and let me know how its going :)

[sportsandfitnessinfo]

New Post has been published on http://fitnessandhealthpros.com/beauty/the-one-thing-that-banishes-food-anxiety-for-good-and-keeps-you-healthy/

The One Thing That Banishes Food Anxiety For Good (*And* Keeps You Healthy)

A lot of people are surprised to hear that I’ve not always had a positive relationship with food. Nowadays, I eat three complete meals, snack frequently, and wouldn’t ever turn down a good vegan brownie. But this wasn’t always the case. In fact, until this year, I’ve always regarded food with a certain acrimony.

I was a vegetarian when I first developed an eating disorder. While it’s true that some individuals with disordered eating use vegetarianism as a guise for restrictive eating (because vegetables and grains are less caloric than, say, meat) my diet never fueled or informed my anorexia. I was a vegetarian because I didn’t believe in eating animals. Similarly, I transitioned to veganism because I learned about the dairy and egg industries, and I no longer wanted to support their cruel practices. Even so, health and contentment around food was elusive for many years.

What finally changed for me–the thing that finally shifted my perspective in a meaningful way–was learning to make veganism work for me rather than against me. The following points explain exactly what I mean.

1. Veganism, at its core, is about eating closer to the earth and avoiding animal products. Being vegan doesn’t mean trying a million meat analogues and staying up-to-date on foodie trends. That’s certainly a fun component of the diet, but for me, it was detrimental to constantly think about trying new-to-me foods, and subsequently restrict or binge on them.

Instead, approaching vegan food in its unadulterated form can be freeing. Focusing on vegetables, beans, grains, and other simple foods can isolate us from an otherwise food-focused lifestyle. (Of course, when you feel that you’ve made strides in recovery, it’s perfectly okay to enjoy any vegan food that’s appealing to you.)

2. Being vegan is about practicing non-violence. If you don’t want to hurt animals, why would you hurt yourself? In this way, we might learn to accept that we need nurturing and care as much as our non-human friends. When you eat, think about the impact you’re making: the earth, animals, and your body are all benefiting from the nourishing food you’re consuming. This can be a difficult lesson to learn, but it’s so worth it when you can see food as a function of your compassion.

3. Veganism is more than food. Food is only one, if central, component of veganism. Over time, I’ve learned that my activism can stretch far beyond my plate, and this takes the pressure off my need to eat perfectly or according to some impossible standard. Last year I began overhauling my closet, incorporating more ethical statements to my wardrobe, and I no longer buy items that were made in a sweatshop. Of course, veganism is intersectional, so I enjoy learning about feminist and environmentalist principles that align with my lifestyle. I no longer regard veganism as monolithic, and in doing so, I’ve been liberated from a hostile relationship with food.

4. Nutrition is important. Vegans tend to propagate some harmful myths within and outside plant-based circles. As a group, we tend to treat the diet as a panacea, as if no supplements or oversight is needed. But the truth is that veganism, as with any diet, has the potential to cause nutrient deficiencies and may in fact perpetuate disordered behaviors. Case in point: I wasn’t eating enough protein, both due to restriction and plain ignorance, and losing even more weight. As soon as I sought help from a registered dietitian, she helped me create a meal plan to meet my needs, and my weight has been stable ever since.

5. Have fun! Most importantly, veganism should be a fun and fruitful journey. I know that it might seem impossible to enjoy food if you’re suffering from an eating disorder, but I strongly believe that a plant-based lifestyle can be healing in the most unexpected of ways. Even though I experienced many dark days in my early years as a vegan, I’ve learned that living ethically is my truth, a conviction that heals me more each and every day.

Have you struggled with your relationship with food? What has helped you have a healthier mindset about eating?

Also by Molly: 4 Reasons Why Your Office BFF May Be Holding You Back

Related:  How A Plant-Based Diet Helped Me Find Body Acceptance

4 Media Stars Who Are Changing The Body Positivity Talk (We’re All Ears)

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RT @IsaChandra: Mention veganism to even the liberalist of lefties and watch them become the conservative uncle you’re stuck talking to at… – 2 hours ago

Originally at :Peaceful Dumpling Written By : Molly Lansdowne

[vegance]

sorry it's controversial vegan opinion hour again. what do you think of drawing a line between veganism-the-diet and veganism-the-set-of-ethical-beliefs. I've seen support for this, mostly in the form of wanting ppl who avoid meat for environmental or health reasons to not use the word vegan, bc it refers to the belief that animal suffering is morally relevant.

But the conclusion of this is, I think, that you could conceivably be a 'vegan' while not totally avoiding animal products. One can believe that animal suffering is terrible and worth putting a great deal of effort into preventing, while also believing that the individualist/capitalist framing of reducing your own consumption of those products to zero is an ineffective method of activism - an opinion not only held by non-vegans.

Over the past few years the number of vegans has grown massively, as well as the number of people reducing their meat intake. Nonetheless animal ag continues to grow. If we, as vegans, conceitedly say 'I've saved two cows and fourteen chickens by being vegan' we are simply lying - individual non-consumption, and even the large movement we have today, just haven't shut down farms or convinced them to rear less livestock (as far as I know - and i'd obviously love to be proved wrong here).

I also think an ethics-first personal-change-much-later approach could do a lot to convince people to join the movement. Without the intimidating weight of dietary change (difficult especially for people in poverty, food deserts, or with eating disorders) more people would be willing to challenge their ideas about animal rights and investigate the animal ag industry. Although it is true, at least in my case, that stopping consuming animal products made me a lot less conflicted and willing to admit to that ethical truth.

sry for the long ask, I'd love to hear your thoughts

i do really think we need to frame veganism more as an ethical concern again, in the public eye (though i also really do believe the environmental perspective will be very helpful). and doing the best one personally can is enough for me to consider them vegan

i don't think its true that vegans have no effect, the way that the animal industry is fighting veganism shows how threatened they feel by the movement. but it is true of course that it needs to work as a movement.

i'm honestly not sure how exactly we are going to achieve that shift in veganism that allows many more people to consider it. i honestly think it might be the climate thing, because people are more open to it. if people are already not eating a lot of animal products, it will be easier for them to step away completely. but its complicated, and i don't think we can really know right now what works.

i do think we have to be careful not to fall into the trap of welfarism though. which is not to say that i think those changes are meaningless. but they can quickly become and excuse not to do more

[rivrhee]

My year of exploring a different way of eating has taken me on an interesting journey of discovery, restriction, guilt, and surprise. When I started my journey, my sources of inspiration provided fuel enough to be strict with my diet. Maira had showed me “Cowspiracy”. Sophia and I watched “Food Inc.” together and had many discussions about ethical and environmental awareness. At the time, I told myself that I was ready for a more drastic behavior and lifestyle change. I think I had the conception that I had to make the change into vegetarian/veganism immediately, but Maira had warned me to ease into it. 

I spent the last month in Australia eating vegetarian and I don’t recall having too much trouble with it. Perhaps it was because it was new and fresh and the initial fire was still burning hot. Perhaps vegetarianism was more accessible in Sydney. Or perhaps the people I was surrounded with made it easier. Who knows. In any case, when Sophia and I went to Taiwan in the following month, we had to become a bit more lax with our diets. We say that it is because the typical Taiwanese restaurant has very few vegetarian, much less vegan, options. The dishes are almost always made with some kind of meat or fish base. However, I do believe that this is still some form of an excuse, a concept which will reoccur many times in my recap of this journey. 

I returned to California, overwhelmed with the transition back into a familiar yet unfamiliar home, unsure of who I was in this setting, and how I fit in. I wanted reminders that my experiences happened and that I am a better person for it, and maybe my dietary choices were one way that I chose to represent that. Anyway, I created all sorts of plans for continuing down this path of conscientious consumption. Farmer’s market exclusivity, dairy substitutions, along with other changes like trying to bike more, switching to a no-poo hygiene routine, etc. It all seemed to be working out for a while, but the little cracks along the edges were already settling in. At home, I couldn’t bear to burden my parents constantly with all the specificities of eating vegan. My mom often uses chicken stock for soups. I must applaud and thank my mom for being so gracious with my choices. She respected my decision and did her best to support me. She would pick out the meats in the dishes or soup, and while my internal dialogue was telling me that it makes no difference if the soup was already made with meat stock, I ate her food with appreciation (and a twinge of guilt). I teetered on this uneasy ledge for a while, until I decided that I would just eat as a pescatarian with my family. This opened up my options, especially when we would go out to eat. 

The cracks were further widened by general ignorance of what vegetarianism or veganism can mean. Some thought that you can eat fish/shellfish as a vegetarian, some thought that you could still have soups with a meat/fish base, etc. I suppose that the diets are not always clear-cut; they can be what you make of them. But I had my preconceived ideas of what I personally would be doing: no meat products, and that includes stock or anything made with meats (or fish). But since I could slip through the cracks of my peers’ ignorance, I took advantage and ate things that I knew I wasn’t “supposed” to eat. So it was thus that I slipped from an inspired vegan-enthusiast to vegetarian to pescatarian to ultimately I-don’t-even-know-flexitarian? 

My diet has never been “clean” in the way that I see Kris Bergstrom or Maira’s veganism. This comparison has filled me with a lot of guilt and self-contempt. I felt like a flake and a fake for my so-called environmentalism. I claim to care about the environment and about my consumption, yet I take the easy way out often and eat what is easier or tastier for myself. I can see how a switch to vegetarian/veganism can cause an eating disorder. This post is a way for me to digest (<- haha) all of my thoughts and ideas throughout this past year and to figure out where I want to go moving forward. 

The holiday season (though that’s really just an excuse too) has been a slippery slope for me. All the previous cracks had widened enough that I allowed myself to eat straight up meat at a Korean BBQ place, and then turkey and duck for Thanksgiving, pork in ramen, beef in Shabu Shabu. It seems that once the dam is broken, it’s too easy to excuse yourself and say, “Well...you already ate some meat earlier, might as well eat this now”. 

I don’t feel great about this though- I feel that I could have been stronger in my convictions. I do recognize that environment is important. In all my social circles, I am the only person with a special diet (besides gluten-free and lactose free friends), and often I am teased for my choices. While nobody has been outright negative about it, I feel a bit less accepted for my diet. This is a general statement, and probably more true in my work circle than in my taiko circle. However, it is certainly true that I grew weary of making people change their choices or have to make special considerations on my behalf. I hate burdening people in that way. This could be another reason why I eventually caved. 

I do have to say that my meat-based/fish-based/dairy-based consumption has probably dramatically decreased from 2015 to 2017, even with all my slip-ups. The biggest changes can be seen in my personal purchasing history. I no longer purchase any dairy products for my fridge (exceptions are in drinks I buy at cafes), and no meats/fish/egg. I have to remind myself that I spent 23-ish years of my life without this kind of special consideration into my diet. Change is slow and incremental, in any arena. I’ll have to do some thinking into how I can form a more sustainable plan for myself in this new year. 

Whew, feels good to type all these thoughts out. They had been bubbling inside for some time.

[oovitus]

NEDA Week 2019: Having My Own Thing

There’s always an official NEDA week theme, but most of the time the posts I write for this week end up finding a theme of their own. The National Eating Disorder Association’s theme for 2019 is “Come as You Are,” which emphasizes diversity and inclusivity in our community of those living with EDs, those recovering from them, those who have recovered, and all of the people in the places in between.

I realized as I was drafting this post that my own thought process around “come as you are” centers on the idea of individuality and self-expression in recovery.

Through talking to other men and women who have had eating disorders, I know that certain parts of the recovery process are nearly universal. A lot of the experiences that felt the most isolating for me—weight gain, the loss of a sense of “specialness,” the horror of feeling out-of-control—are actually completely “normal” stages of anorexia recovery. They felt uniquely threatening, but the more I spoke to others, the more I realized that they were part of a shared process.

At the same time, recovery is a deeply personal experience, and we come to understand it on our own terms.

At many times during recovery, I looked frantically around me for an archetype or role model to follow. I had so many questions: how long will this take? Will the weight gain ever stop? Will I ever feel comfortable in my body again? Will I ever truly enjoy eating out, being intimate, or socializing around food? How do you know when you’re “fully recovered”? My hope was that some incredible recovered person, some shining example of the process, would have the answers.

It never worked like that. In fact, my quest to find a recovery guru only took me to problematic places. It made me prescribe to eating styles that weren’t right for me long-term, one of which was raw foodism. It kept me from owning my own cravings and food likes/dislikes (for example: my abiding love of carbs). It muffled the voice of my intuition and kept me from doing the work of tuning into my body and discovering my own hungers.

Over time, I did learn how to do this—to tune in—and it’s what has allowed me to sustain my recovery over time. The answer was never in a book or on a blog; it was within me.

When you’ve been alienated from your body and your appetites for a long time, and especially when you believe that there is a rapacious monster within you that will eat everything in sight if you give it so much as a centimeter of freedom, it’s awful to be told to “listen to your body.” I regarded my body as freakish and insatiable, a delusion that felt all the more real because I’d been starving for years, and my body was insatiable. Recovery revealed the greatness of my appetite to me—an appetite that had been stoked by deprivation—and it was terrifying.

Getting in touch with hunger cues and listening to one’s body could easily be the work of a lifetime. For the record, I’m still learning how to listen and respond! At this point, though, the process is more curious and fun than it is daunting or scary. I’m not always great at being in my body—like many people, I experience anxiety as a kind of dissociation from my physical self. But I’ve spent a lot of time working on this in therapy and in yoga, and the dissociation happens less and less often. The rest of the time, my body is an incredible source of information.

I was reminded of this in the fall, when my body gave me all sorts of helpful signals that a relationship I’d been exploring wasn’t right. It often lets me know—through a pattering heart rate or GI distress—when my actions aren’t aligned with my truth. And it has become very, very good at telling me what food I crave, because I’ve finally invited it to have a voice.

Most importantly, my body has guided me to a place I never thought I’d be: the land of “not having a thing.”

For years and years, I always had a food thing. By “thing,” I mean a self-selected nutritional modification that dictated what I could and couldn’t eat. When I say “thing,” I don’t mean the ethical choice to avoid animals, and importantly, I don’t mean something that I chose freely with my body’s guidance. I mean nutrition parameters that I picked up from experts, gurus, popular diets or eating styles, and so on. In choosing a thing, I always had one of two motivations: becoming or remaining a certain shape, or trying to maintain a sense of control.

I loved having food things, just as I’d loved having food rules and routines when I was anorexic. They were so safe and so bracing. When life was daunting and impossible to understand, there was always one thing I could do that made sense, which to cling to a dietary modification. No matter how much pain I was in, I could avoid something that had been deemed inappropriate for my body by somebody else. It always felt good, even when it meant not eating things I liked and spent a whole lot of time thinking about.

Nowadays, and for the past few years, I’ve come to realize that I don’t have a thing. Or rather, I no longer have somebody else’s thing. As it turns out, nobody knows better how I ought to be eating than I do.

I strive to eat mostly whole foods, plant-based diet, but I eat sugar, salt, oil, and vegan meats, too. I still eat a lot of cashew cheese, nut pate, and salad, but I can’t remember the last time I had any sense of how much of my day’s intake of food had been uncooked. I find a lot of intuitive eating principles to be helpful, but I’m not a completely intuitive eater. If any principle guides me, it’s the focus on macronutrient balance that I wrote about in Power Plates, which is flexible as far as eating prescriptions go, and which I modify plenty.

For a while, it felt strange not to have something I could point to as proof of my own willpower around food. It was odd to have permission to eat everything. Nowadays, it feels pretty great. Avoiding pleasurable foods is a lot of work, and letting go of the need to do that all the time feels like laying a burden down. My work in dietetics and interest in nutrition keep me focused on wholesome foods, but my appetites and tastes guide my choices within that. And for the first extended stretch of time that I can remember, there’s no (vegan) food that’s off limits. Only foods I eat more of or less of.

My experience with anorexia began right before I turned twelve, and my appetites had been critiqued at home for years before that. I don’t have childhood memories of food freedom or permission to eat what I wanted. What a gift it’s been to find these things for the first time in my thirties. And how proud I am—really and truly—to have figured out how I like and need to eat, granting myself the permission I so feared along the way.

In addition to being freed of the need to scour books and the internet for rules, I no longer get worked up about the way other people eat. For so many years—as long as I was fixated on seeking food prescriptions from others—I was judgy and defensive about food. I resented those who ate more restrictively than I did and was discomfited by those who gave themselves more permission. Any exposure to other eating styles was a minefield.

It’s not like that anymore. I don’t have my hackles up all the time when I observe other people eat. I don’t scrutinize other men or women’s eating patterns and choices. Instead of judging, I give everyone the benefit of the doubt; I assume that they’re nourishing themselves as only they can know how to do.

This week, I wish you the courage and support that it takes to create your own eating style, whatever that may be. I don’t mean that you should avoid smart nutrition guidance or research: by all means, dive in! But incorporate what you learn into your life with your body’s guidance.

For the record, I also don’t mean to suggest that eating all foods, within a vegan paradigm or any other, is necessarily the measure of a healed relationship with food. I’ve work with many clients who have discovered, through listening to their own bodies, that certain foods don’t work for them. In that case, choosing not to eat something is the act of self-awareness and freedom that I was just talking about. Elimination and restriction aren’t one-in-the-same, and we’re all different. Inclusion has been my own work in finding a healthful relationship with food; more selectivity might be another person’s work.

It’s also worth saying that this business of eating in alignment with one’s body and soul is fluid. What works for a person today might not work in ten years, or twenty, or thirty. I’m in a deliciously expansive place with food in this decade of my life, but if I got a certain type of diagnosis or was facing a particular health challenge, I might need to make different choices. My cravings and tastes might shift over time, which would change the landscape of my favorite foods and things to eat. That’s fine: if it happens, it’ll be another chapter in having my own thing.

Finally, I want to mention that this process of tuning in—just like the rest of recovery—is a process. It doesn’t happen quickly or overnight, as those of us who have spent decades working on it can attest 🙂 And it doesn’t always, nor should it, happen in isolation. I can’t imagine getting to where I am with food and body awareness without two different therapists, who supported me in different, but equally helpful ways.

If you’re at a point in recovery when the time has come to craft your own relationship with food, but you don’t know where to start, it’s wise and self-loving to solicit some support. Your support system might be a therapist, a dietitian, or another kind of healer; it may be a friend or family member who can listen attentively and help to nurture your intuition. Asking for support and validation isn’t the same as searching for rules; it’s often the added dose of courage it takes to get in touch with one’s own hungers.

I’ll be back on Friday to talk about a reader requested topic, which is eating with others. Till then, I send you ongoing love and ongoing wishes of being in your body. Happy Wednesday, friends.

xo

The post NEDA Week 2019: Having My Own Thing appeared first on The Full Helping.

NEDA Week 2019: Having My Own Thing published first on

[gardencityvegans]

NEDA Week 2019: Having My Own Thing

https://www.thefullhelping.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/Stocksy_txp79fe83367uF200_Small_645537.jpg

There’s always an official NEDA week theme, but most of the time the posts I write for this week end up finding a theme of their own. The National Eating Disorder Association’s theme for 2019 is “Come as You Are,” which emphasizes diversity and inclusivity in our community of those living with EDs, those recovering from them, those who have recovered, and all of the people in the places in between.

I realized as I was drafting this post that my own thought process around “come as you are” centers on the idea of individuality and self-expression in recovery.

Through talking to other men and women who have had eating disorders, I know that certain parts of the recovery process are nearly universal. A lot of the experiences that felt the most isolating for me—weight gain, the loss of a sense of “specialness,” the horror of feeling out-of-control—are actually completely “normal” stages of anorexia recovery. They felt uniquely threatening, but the more I spoke to others, the more I realized that they were part of a shared process.

At the same time, recovery is a deeply personal experience, and we come to understand it on our own terms.

At many times during recovery, I looked frantically around me for an archetype or role model to follow. I had so many questions: how long will this take? Will the weight gain ever stop? Will I ever feel comfortable in my body again? Will I ever truly enjoy eating out, being intimate, or socializing around food? How do you know when you’re “fully recovered”? My hope was that some incredible recovered person, some shining example of the process, would have the answers.

It never worked like that. In fact, my quest to find a recovery guru only took me to problematic places. It made me prescribe to eating styles that weren’t right for me long-term, one of which was raw foodism. It kept me from owning my own cravings and food likes/dislikes (for example: my abiding love of carbs). It muffled the voice of my intuition and kept me from doing the work of tuning into my body and discovering my own hungers.

Over time, I did learn how to do this—to tune in—and it’s what has allowed me to sustain my recovery over time. The answer was never in a book or on a blog; it was within me.

When you’ve been alienated from your body and your appetites for a long time, and especially when you believe that there is a rapacious monster within you that will eat everything in sight if you give it so much as a centimeter of freedom, it’s awful to be told to “listen to your body.” I regarded my body as freakish and insatiable, a delusion that felt all the more real because I’d been starving for years, and my body was insatiable. Recovery revealed the greatness of my appetite to me—an appetite that had been stoked by deprivation—and it was terrifying.

Getting in touch with hunger cues and listening to one’s body could easily be the work of a lifetime. For the record, I’m still learning how to listen and respond! At this point, though, the process is more curious and fun than it is daunting or scary. I’m not always great at being in my body—like many people, I experience anxiety as a kind of dissociation from my physical self. But I’ve spent a lot of time working on this in therapy and in yoga, and the dissociation happens less and less often. The rest of the time, my body is an incredible source of information.

I was reminded of this in the fall, when my body gave me all sorts of helpful signals that a relationship I’d been exploring wasn’t right. It often lets me know—through a pattering heart rate or GI distress—when my actions aren’t aligned with my truth. And it has become very, very good at telling me what food I crave, because I’ve finally invited it to have a voice.

Most importantly, my body has guided me to a place I never thought I’d be: the land of “not having a thing.”

For years and years, I always had a food thing. By “thing,” I mean a self-selected nutritional modification that dictated what I could and couldn’t eat. When I say “thing,” I don’t mean the ethical choice to avoid animals, and importantly, I don’t mean something that I chose freely with my body’s guidance. I mean nutrition parameters that I picked up from experts, gurus, popular diets or eating styles, and so on. In choosing a thing, I always had one of two motivations: becoming or remaining a certain shape, or trying to maintain a sense of control.

I loved having food things, just as I’d loved having food rules and routines when I was anorexic. They were so safe and so bracing. When life was daunting and impossible to understand, there was always one thing I could do that made sense, which to cling to a dietary modification. No matter how much pain I was in, I could avoid something that had been deemed inappropriate for my body by somebody else. It always felt good, even when it meant not eating things I liked and spent a whole lot of time thinking about.

Nowadays, and for the past few years, I’ve come to realize that I don’t have a thing. Or rather, I no longer have somebody else’s thing. As it turns out, nobody knows better how I ought to be eating than I do.

I strive to eat mostly whole foods, plant-based diet, but I eat sugar, salt, oil, and vegan meats, too. I still eat a lot of cashew cheese, nut pate, and salad, but I can’t remember the last time I had any sense of how much of my day’s intake of food had been uncooked. I find a lot of intuitive eating principles to be helpful, but I’m not a completely intuitive eater. If any principle guides me, it’s the focus on macronutrient balance that I wrote about in Power Plates, which is flexible as far as eating prescriptions go, and which I modify plenty.

For a while, it felt strange not to have something I could point to as proof of my own willpower around food. It was odd to have permission to eat everything. Nowadays, it feels pretty great. Avoiding pleasurable foods is a lot of work, and letting go of the need to do that all the time feels like laying a burden down. My work in dietetics and interest in nutrition keep me focused on wholesome foods, but my appetites and tastes guide my choices within that. And for the first extended stretch of time that I can remember, there’s no (vegan) food that’s off limits. Only foods I eat more of or less of.

My experience with anorexia began right before I turned twelve, and my appetites had been critiqued at home or years before that. I don’t have childhood memories of food freedom or permission to eat what I wanted. What a gift it’s been to find these things for the first time in my thirties. And how proud I am—really and truly—to have figured out how I like and need to eat, granting myself the permission I so feared along the way.

In addition to being freed of the need to scour books and the internet for rules, I no longer get worked up about the way other people eat. For so many years—as long as I was fixated on seeking food prescriptions from others—I was judgy and defensive about food. I resented those who ate more restrictively than I did and was discomfited by those who gave themselves more permission. Any exposure to other eating styles was a minefield.

It’s not like that anymore. I don’t have my hackles up all the time when I observe other people eat. I don’t scrutinize other men or women’s eating patterns and choices. Instead of judging, I give everyone the benefit of the doubt; I assume that they’re nourishing themselves as only they can know how to do.

This week, I wish you the courage and support that it takes to create your own eating style, whatever that may be. I don’t mean that you should avoid smart nutrition guidance or research: by all means, dive in! But incorporate what you learn into your life with your body’s guidance.

For the record, I also don’t mean to suggest that eating all foods, within a vegan paradigm or any other, is necessarily the measure of a healed relationship with food. I’ve work with many clients who have discovered, through listening to their own bodies, that certain foods don’t work for them. In that case, choosing not to eat something is the act of self-awareness and freedom that I was just talking about. Elimination and restriction aren’t one-in-the-same, and we’re all different. Inclusion has been my own work in finding a healthful relationship with food; more selectivity might be another person’s work.

It’s also worth saying that this business of eating in alignment with one’s body and soul is fluid. What works for a person today might not work in ten years, or twenty, or thirty. I’m in a deliciously expansive place with food in this decade of my life, but if I got a certain type of diagnosis or was facing a particular health challenge, I might need to make different choices. My cravings and tastes might shift over time, which would change the landscape of my favorite foods and things to eat. That’s fine: if it happens, it’ll be another chapter in having my own thing.

Finally, I want to mention that this process of tuning in—just like the rest of recovery—is a process. It doesn’t happen quickly or overnight, as those of us who have spent decades working on it can attest 🙂 And it doesn’t always, nor should it, happen in isolation. I can’t imagine getting to where I am with food and body awareness without two different therapists, who supported me in different, but equally helpful ways.

If you’re at a point in recovery when the time has come to craft your own relationship with food, but you don’t know where to start, it’s wise and self-loving to solicit some support. Your support system might be a therapist, a dietitian, or another kind of healer; it may be a friend or family member who can listen attentively and help to nurture your intuition. Asking for support and validation isn’t the same as searching for rules; it’s often the added dose of courage it takes to get in touch with one’s own hungers.

I’ll be back on Friday to talk about a reader requested topic, which is eating with others. Till then, I send you ongoing love and ongoing wishes of being in your body. Happy Wednesday, friends.

xo

[Read More ...] https://www.thefullhelping.com/neda-week-2019-having-my-own-thing/

[oovitus]

NEDA Week 2019: Having My Own Thing

There’s always an official NEDA week theme, but most of the time the posts I write for this week end up finding a theme of their own. The National Eating Disorder Association’s theme for 2019 is “Come as You Are,” which emphasizes diversity and inclusivity in our community of those living with EDs, those recovering from them, those who have recovered, and all of the people in the places in between.

I realized as I was drafting this post that my own thought process around “come as you are” centers on the idea of individuality and self-expression in recovery.

Through talking to other men and women who have had eating disorders, I know that certain parts of the recovery process are nearly universal. A lot of the experiences that felt the most isolating for me—weight gain, the loss of a sense of “specialness,” the horror of feeling out-of-control—are actually completely “normal” stages of anorexia recovery. They felt uniquely threatening, but the more I spoke to others, the more I realized that they were part of a shared process.

At the same time, recovery is a deeply personal experience, and we come to understand it on our own terms.

At many times during recovery, I looked frantically around me for an archetype or role model to follow. I had so many questions: how long will this take? Will the weight gain ever stop? Will I ever feel comfortable in my body again? Will I ever truly enjoy eating out, being intimate, or socializing around food? How do you know when you’re “fully recovered”? My hope was that some incredible recovered person, some shining example of the process, would have the answers.

It never worked like that. In fact, my quest to find a recovery guru only took me to problematic places. It made me prescribe to eating styles that weren’t right for me long-term, one of which was raw foodism. It kept me from owning my own cravings and food likes/dislikes (for example: my abiding love of carbs). It muffled the voice of my intuition and kept me from doing the work of tuning into my body and discovering my own hungers.

Over time, I did learn how to do this—to tune in—and it’s what has allowed me to sustain my recovery over time. The answer was never in a book or on a blog; it was within me.

When you’ve been alienated from your body and your appetites for a long time, and especially when you believe that there is a rapacious monster within you that will eat everything in sight if you give it so much as a centimeter of freedom, it’s awful to be told to “listen to your body.” I regarded my body as freakish and insatiable, a delusion that felt all the more real because I’d been starving for years, and my body was insatiable. Recovery revealed the greatness of my appetite to me—an appetite that had been stoked by deprivation—and it was terrifying.

Getting in touch with hunger cues and listening to one’s body could easily be the work of a lifetime. For the record, I’m still learning how to listen and respond! At this point, though, the process is more curious and fun than it is daunting or scary. I’m not always great at being in my body—like many people, I experience anxiety as a kind of dissociation from my physical self. But I’ve spent a lot of time working on this in therapy and in yoga, and the dissociation happens less and less often. The rest of the time, my body is an incredible source of information.

I was reminded of this in the fall, when my body gave me all sorts of helpful signals that a relationship I’d been exploring wasn’t right. It often lets me know—through a pattering heart rate or GI distress—when my actions aren’t aligned with my truth. And it has become very, very good at telling me what food I crave, because I’ve finally invited it to have a voice.

Most importantly, my body has guided me to a place I never thought I’d be: the land of “not having a thing.”

For years and years, I always had a food thing. By “thing,” I mean a self-selected nutritional modification that dictated what I could and couldn’t eat. When I say “thing,” I don’t mean the ethical choice to avoid animals, and importantly, I don’t mean something that I chose freely with my body’s guidance. I mean nutrition parameters that I picked up from experts, gurus, popular diets or eating styles, and so on. In choosing a thing, I always had one of two motivations: becoming or remaining a certain shape, or trying to maintain a sense of control.

I loved having food things, just as I’d loved having food rules and routines when I was anorexic. They were so safe and so bracing. When life was daunting and impossible to understand, there was always one thing I could do that made sense, which to cling to a dietary modification. No matter how much pain I was in, I could avoid something that had been deemed inappropriate for my body by somebody else. It always felt good, even when it meant not eating things I liked and spent a whole lot of time thinking about.

Nowadays, and for the past few years, I’ve come to realize that I don’t have a thing. Or rather, I no longer have somebody else’s thing. As it turns out, nobody knows better how I ought to be eating than I do.

I strive to eat mostly whole foods, plant-based diet, but I eat sugar, salt, oil, and vegan meats, too. I still eat a lot of cashew cheese, nut pate, and salad, but I can’t remember the last time I had any sense of how much of my day’s intake of food had been uncooked. I find a lot of intuitive eating principles to be helpful, but I’m not a completely intuitive eater. If any principle guides me, it’s the focus on macronutrient balance that I wrote about in Power Plates, which is flexible as far as eating prescriptions go, and which I modify plenty.

For a while, it felt strange not to have something I could point to as proof of my own willpower around food. It was odd to have permission to eat everything. Nowadays, it feels pretty great. Avoiding pleasurable foods is a lot of work, and letting go of the need to do that all the time feels like laying a burden down. My work in dietetics and interest in nutrition keep me focused on wholesome foods, but my appetites and tastes guide my choices within that. And for the first extended stretch of time that I can remember, there’s no (vegan) food that’s off limits. Only foods I eat more of or less of.

My experience with anorexia began right before I turned twelve, and my appetites had been critiqued at home for years before that. I don’t have childhood memories of food freedom or permission to eat what I wanted. What a gift it’s been to find these things for the first time in my thirties. And how proud I am—really and truly—to have figured out how I like and need to eat, granting myself the permission I so feared along the way.

In addition to being freed of the need to scour books and the internet for rules, I no longer get worked up about the way other people eat. For so many years—as long as I was fixated on seeking food prescriptions from others—I was judgy and defensive about food. I resented those who ate more restrictively than I did and was discomfited by those who gave themselves more permission. Any exposure to other eating styles was a minefield.

It’s not like that anymore. I don’t have my hackles up all the time when I observe other people eat. I don’t scrutinize other men or women’s eating patterns and choices. Instead of judging, I give everyone the benefit of the doubt; I assume that they’re nourishing themselves as only they can know how to do.

This week, I wish you the courage and support that it takes to create your own eating style, whatever that may be. I don’t mean that you should avoid smart nutrition guidance or research: by all means, dive in! But incorporate what you learn into your life with your body’s guidance.

For the record, I also don’t mean to suggest that eating all foods, within a vegan paradigm or any other, is necessarily the measure of a healed relationship with food. I’ve work with many clients who have discovered, through listening to their own bodies, that certain foods don’t work for them. In that case, choosing not to eat something is the act of self-awareness and freedom that I was just talking about. Elimination and restriction aren’t one-in-the-same, and we’re all different. Inclusion has been my own work in finding a healthful relationship with food; more selectivity might be another person’s work.

It’s also worth saying that this business of eating in alignment with one’s body and soul is fluid. What works for a person today might not work in ten years, or twenty, or thirty. I’m in a deliciously expansive place with food in this decade of my life, but if I got a certain type of diagnosis or was facing a particular health challenge, I might need to make different choices. My cravings and tastes might shift over time, which would change the landscape of my favorite foods and things to eat. That’s fine: if it happens, it’ll be another chapter in having my own thing.

Finally, I want to mention that this process of tuning in—just like the rest of recovery—is a process. It doesn’t happen quickly or overnight, as those of us who have spent decades working on it can attest 🙂 And it doesn’t always, nor should it, happen in isolation. I can’t imagine getting to where I am with food and body awareness without two different therapists, who supported me in different, but equally helpful ways.

If you’re at a point in recovery when the time has come to craft your own relationship with food, but you don’t know where to start, it’s wise and self-loving to solicit some support. Your support system might be a therapist, a dietitian, or another kind of healer; it may be a friend or family member who can listen attentively and help to nurture your intuition. Asking for support and validation isn’t the same as searching for rules; it’s often the added dose of courage it takes to get in touch with one’s own hungers.

I’ll be back on Friday to talk about a reader requested topic, which is eating with others. Till then, I send you ongoing love and ongoing wishes of being in your body. Happy Wednesday, friends.

xo

The post NEDA Week 2019: Having My Own Thing appeared first on The Full Helping.

NEDA Week 2019: Having My Own Thing published first on https://storeseapharmacy.tumblr.com

[oovitus]

NEDA Week 2019: Having My Own Thing

There’s always an official NEDA week theme, but most of the time the posts I write for this week end up finding a theme of their own. The National Eating Disorder Association’s theme for 2019 is “Come as You Are,” which emphasizes diversity and inclusivity in our community of those living with EDs, those recovering from them, those who have recovered, and all of the people in the places in between.

I realized as I was drafting this post that my own thought process around “come as you are” centers on the idea of individuality and self-expression in recovery.

Through talking to other men and women who have had eating disorders, I know that certain parts of the recovery process are nearly universal. A lot of the experiences that felt the most isolating for me—weight gain, the loss of a sense of “specialness,” the horror of feeling out-of-control—are actually completely “normal” stages of anorexia recovery. They felt uniquely threatening, but the more I spoke to others, the more I realized that they were part of a shared process.

At the same time, recovery is a deeply personal experience, and we come to understand it on our own terms.

At many times during recovery, I looked frantically around me for an archetype or role model to follow. I had so many questions: how long will this take? Will the weight gain ever stop? Will I ever feel comfortable in my body again? Will I ever truly enjoy eating out, being intimate, or socializing around food? How do you know when you’re “fully recovered”? My hope was that some incredible recovered person, some shining example of the process, would have the answers.

It never worked like that. In fact, my quest to find a recovery guru only took me to problematic places. It made me prescribe to eating styles that weren’t right for me long-term, one of which was raw foodism. It kept me from owning my own cravings and food likes/dislikes (for example: my abiding love of carbs). It muffled the voice of my intuition and kept me from doing the work of tuning into my body and discovering my own hungers.

Over time, I did learn how to do this—to tune in—and it’s what has allowed me to sustain my recovery over time. The answer was never in a book or on a blog; it was within me.

When you’ve been alienated from your body and your appetites for a long time, and especially when you believe that there is a rapacious monster within you that will eat everything in sight if you give it so much as a centimeter of freedom, it’s awful to be told to “listen to your body.” I regarded my body as freakish and insatiable, a delusion that felt all the more real because I’d been starving for years, and my body was insatiable. Recovery revealed the greatness of my appetite to me—an appetite that had been stoked by deprivation—and it was terrifying.

Getting in touch with hunger cues and listening to one’s body could easily be the work of a lifetime. For the record, I’m still learning how to listen and respond! At this point, though, the process is more curious and fun than it is daunting or scary. I’m not always great at being in my body—like many people, I experience anxiety as a kind of dissociation from my physical self. But I’ve spent a lot of time working on this in therapy and in yoga, and the dissociation happens less and less often. The rest of the time, my body is an incredible source of information.

I was reminded of this in the fall, when my body gave me all sorts of helpful signals that a relationship I’d been exploring wasn’t right. It often lets me know—through a pattering heart rate or GI distress—when my actions aren’t aligned with my truth. And it has become very, very good at telling me what food I crave, because I’ve finally invited it to have a voice.

Most importantly, my body has guided me to a place I never thought I’d be: the land of “not having a thing.”

For years and years, I always had a food thing. By “thing,” I mean a self-selected nutritional modification that dictated what I could and couldn’t eat. When I say “thing,” I don’t mean the ethical choice to avoid animals, and importantly, I don’t mean something that I chose freely with my body’s guidance. I mean nutrition parameters that I picked up from experts, gurus, popular diets or eating styles, and so on. In choosing a thing, I always had one of two motivations: becoming or remaining a certain shape, or trying to maintain a sense of control.

I loved having food things, just as I’d loved having food rules and routines when I was anorexic. They were so safe and so bracing. When life was daunting and impossible to understand, there was always one thing I could do that made sense, which to cling to a dietary modification. No matter how much pain I was in, I could avoid something that had been deemed inappropriate for my body by somebody else. It always felt good, even when it meant not eating things I liked and spent a whole lot of time thinking about.

Nowadays, and for the past few years, I’ve come to realize that I don’t have a thing. Or rather, I no longer have somebody else’s thing. As it turns out, nobody knows better how I ought to be eating than I do.

I strive to eat mostly whole foods, plant-based diet, but I eat sugar, salt, oil, and vegan meats, too. I still eat a lot of cashew cheese, nut pate, and salad, but I can’t remember the last time I had any sense of how much of my day’s intake of food had been uncooked. I find a lot of intuitive eating principles to be helpful, but I’m not a completely intuitive eater. If any principle guides me, it’s the focus on macronutrient balance that I wrote about in Power Plates, which is flexible as far as eating prescriptions go, and which I modify plenty.

For a while, it felt strange not to have something I could point to as proof of my own willpower around food. It was odd to have permission to eat everything. Nowadays, it feels pretty great. Avoiding pleasurable foods is a lot of work, and letting go of the need to do that all the time feels like laying a burden down. My work in dietetics and interest in nutrition keep me focused on wholesome foods, but my appetites and tastes guide my choices within that. And for the first extended stretch of time that I can remember, there’s no (vegan) food that’s off limits. Only foods I eat more of or less of.

My experience with anorexia began right before I turned twelve, and my appetites had been critiqued at home for years before that. I don’t have childhood memories of food freedom or permission to eat what I wanted. What a gift it’s been to find these things for the first time in my thirties. And how proud I am—really and truly—to have figured out how I like and need to eat, granting myself the permission I so feared along the way.

In addition to being freed of the need to scour books and the internet for rules, I no longer get worked up about the way other people eat. For so many years—as long as I was fixated on seeking food prescriptions from others—I was judgy and defensive about food. I resented those who ate more restrictively than I did and was discomfited by those who gave themselves more permission. Any exposure to other eating styles was a minefield.

It’s not like that anymore. I don’t have my hackles up all the time when I observe other people eat. I don’t scrutinize other men or women’s eating patterns and choices. Instead of judging, I give everyone the benefit of the doubt; I assume that they’re nourishing themselves as only they can know how to do.

This week, I wish you the courage and support that it takes to create your own eating style, whatever that may be. I don’t mean that you should avoid smart nutrition guidance or research: by all means, dive in! But incorporate what you learn into your life with your body’s guidance.

For the record, I also don’t mean to suggest that eating all foods, within a vegan paradigm or any other, is necessarily the measure of a healed relationship with food. I’ve work with many clients who have discovered, through listening to their own bodies, that certain foods don’t work for them. In that case, choosing not to eat something is the act of self-awareness and freedom that I was just talking about. Elimination and restriction aren’t one-in-the-same, and we’re all different. Inclusion has been my own work in finding a healthful relationship with food; more selectivity might be another person’s work.

It’s also worth saying that this business of eating in alignment with one’s body and soul is fluid. What works for a person today might not work in ten years, or twenty, or thirty. I’m in a deliciously expansive place with food in this decade of my life, but if I got a certain type of diagnosis or was facing a particular health challenge, I might need to make different choices. My cravings and tastes might shift over time, which would change the landscape of my favorite foods and things to eat. That’s fine: if it happens, it’ll be another chapter in having my own thing.

Finally, I want to mention that this process of tuning in—just like the rest of recovery—is a process. It doesn’t happen quickly or overnight, as those of us who have spent decades working on it can attest 🙂 And it doesn’t always, nor should it, happen in isolation. I can’t imagine getting to where I am with food and body awareness without two different therapists, who supported me in different, but equally helpful ways.

If you’re at a point in recovery when the time has come to craft your own relationship with food, but you don’t know where to start, it’s wise and self-loving to solicit some support. Your support system might be a therapist, a dietitian, or another kind of healer; it may be a friend or family member who can listen attentively and help to nurture your intuition. Asking for support and validation isn’t the same as searching for rules; it’s often the added dose of courage it takes to get in touch with one’s own hungers.

I’ll be back on Friday to talk about a reader requested topic, which is eating with others. Till then, I send you ongoing love and ongoing wishes of being in your body. Happy Wednesday, friends.

xo

The post NEDA Week 2019: Having My Own Thing appeared first on The Full Helping.

NEDA Week 2019: Having My Own Thing published first on https://storeseapharmacy.tumblr.com

[oovitus]

NEDA Week 2019: Having My Own Thing

There’s always an official NEDA week theme, but most of the time the posts I write for this week end up finding a theme of their own. The National Eating Disorder Association’s theme for 2019 is “Come as You Are,” which emphasizes diversity and inclusivity in our community of those living with EDs, those recovering from them, those who have recovered, and all of the people in the places in between.

I realized as I was drafting this post that my own thought process around “come as you are” centers on the idea of individuality and self-expression in recovery.

Through talking to other men and women who have had eating disorders, I know that certain parts of the recovery process are nearly universal. A lot of the experiences that felt the most isolating for me—weight gain, the loss of a sense of “specialness,” the horror of feeling out-of-control—are actually completely “normal” stages of anorexia recovery. They felt uniquely threatening, but the more I spoke to others, the more I realized that they were part of a shared process.

At the same time, recovery is a deeply personal experience, and we come to understand it on our own terms.

At many times during recovery, I looked frantically around me for an archetype or role model to follow. I had so many questions: how long will this take? Will the weight gain ever stop? Will I ever feel comfortable in my body again? Will I ever truly enjoy eating out, being intimate, or socializing around food? How do you know when you’re “fully recovered”? My hope was that some incredible recovered person, some shining example of the process, would have the answers.

It never worked like that. In fact, my quest to find a recovery guru only took me to problematic places. It made me prescribe to eating styles that weren’t right for me long-term, one of which was raw foodism. It kept me from owning my own cravings and food likes/dislikes (for example: my abiding love of carbs). It muffled the voice of my intuition and kept me from doing the work of tuning into my body and discovering my own hungers.

Over time, I did learn how to do this—to tune in—and it’s what has allowed me to sustain my recovery over time. The answer was never in a book or on a blog; it was within me.

When you’ve been alienated from your body and your appetites for a long time, and especially when you believe that there is a rapacious monster within you that will eat everything in sight if you give it so much as a centimeter of freedom, it’s awful to be told to “listen to your body.” I regarded my body as freakish and insatiable, a delusion that felt all the more real because I’d been starving for years, and my body was insatiable. Recovery revealed the greatness of my appetite to me—an appetite that had been stoked by deprivation—and it was terrifying.

Getting in touch with hunger cues and listening to one’s body could easily be the work of a lifetime. For the record, I’m still learning how to listen and respond! At this point, though, the process is more curious and fun than it is daunting or scary. I’m not always great at being in my body—like many people, I experience anxiety as a kind of dissociation from my physical self. But I’ve spent a lot of time working on this in therapy and in yoga, and the dissociation happens less and less often. The rest of the time, my body is an incredible source of information.

I was reminded of this in the fall, when my body gave me all sorts of helpful signals that a relationship I’d been exploring wasn’t right. It often lets me know—through a pattering heart rate or GI distress—when my actions aren’t aligned with my truth. And it has become very, very good at telling me what food I crave, because I’ve finally invited it to have a voice.

Most importantly, my body has guided me to a place I never thought I’d be: the land of “not having a thing.”

For years and years, I always had a food thing. By “thing,” I mean a self-selected nutritional modification that dictated what I could and couldn’t eat. When I say “thing,” I don’t mean the ethical choice to avoid animals, and importantly, I don’t mean something that I chose freely with my body’s guidance. I mean nutrition parameters that I picked up from experts, gurus, popular diets or eating styles, and so on. In choosing a thing, I always had one of two motivations: becoming or remaining a certain shape, or trying to maintain a sense of control.

I loved having food things, just as I’d loved having food rules and routines when I was anorexic. They were so safe and so bracing. When life was daunting and impossible to understand, there was always one thing I could do that made sense, which to cling to a dietary modification. No matter how much pain I was in, I could avoid something that had been deemed inappropriate for my body by somebody else. It always felt good, even when it meant not eating things I liked and spent a whole lot of time thinking about.

Nowadays, and for the past few years, I’ve come to realize that I don’t have a thing. Or rather, I no longer have somebody else’s thing. As it turns out, nobody knows better how I ought to be eating than I do.

I strive to eat mostly whole foods, plant-based diet, but I eat sugar, salt, oil, and vegan meats, too. I still eat a lot of cashew cheese, nut pate, and salad, but I can’t remember the last time I had any sense of how much of my day’s intake of food had been uncooked. I find a lot of intuitive eating principles to be helpful, but I’m not a completely intuitive eater. If any principle guides me, it’s the focus on macronutrient balance that I wrote about in Power Plates, which is flexible as far as eating prescriptions go, and which I modify plenty.

For a while, it felt strange not to have something I could point to as proof of my own willpower around food. It was odd to have permission to eat everything. Nowadays, it feels pretty great. Avoiding pleasurable foods is a lot of work, and letting go of the need to do that all the time feels like laying a burden down. My work in dietetics and interest in nutrition keep me focused on wholesome foods, but my appetites and tastes guide my choices within that. And for the first extended stretch of time that I can remember, there’s no (vegan) food that’s off limits. Only foods I eat more of or less of.

My experience with anorexia began right before I turned twelve, and my appetites had been critiqued at home for years before that. I don’t have childhood memories of food freedom or permission to eat what I wanted. What a gift it’s been to find these things for the first time in my thirties. And how proud I am—really and truly—to have figured out how I like and need to eat, granting myself the permission I so feared along the way.

In addition to being freed of the need to scour books and the internet for rules, I no longer get worked up about the way other people eat. For so many years—as long as I was fixated on seeking food prescriptions from others—I was judgy and defensive about food. I resented those who ate more restrictively than I did and was discomfited by those who gave themselves more permission. Any exposure to other eating styles was a minefield.

It’s not like that anymore. I don’t have my hackles up all the time when I observe other people eat. I don’t scrutinize other men or women’s eating patterns and choices. Instead of judging, I give everyone the benefit of the doubt; I assume that they’re nourishing themselves as only they can know how to do.

This week, I wish you the courage and support that it takes to create your own eating style, whatever that may be. I don’t mean that you should avoid smart nutrition guidance or research: by all means, dive in! But incorporate what you learn into your life with your body’s guidance.

For the record, I also don’t mean to suggest that eating all foods, within a vegan paradigm or any other, is necessarily the measure of a healed relationship with food. I’ve work with many clients who have discovered, through listening to their own bodies, that certain foods don’t work for them. In that case, choosing not to eat something is the act of self-awareness and freedom that I was just talking about. Elimination and restriction aren’t one-in-the-same, and we’re all different. Inclusion has been my own work in finding a healthful relationship with food; more selectivity might be another person’s work.

It’s also worth saying that this business of eating in alignment with one’s body and soul is fluid. What works for a person today might not work in ten years, or twenty, or thirty. I’m in a deliciously expansive place with food in this decade of my life, but if I got a certain type of diagnosis or was facing a particular health challenge, I might need to make different choices. My cravings and tastes might shift over time, which would change the landscape of my favorite foods and things to eat. That’s fine: if it happens, it’ll be another chapter in having my own thing.

Finally, I want to mention that this process of tuning in—just like the rest of recovery—is a process. It doesn’t happen quickly or overnight, as those of us who have spent decades working on it can attest 🙂 And it doesn’t always, nor should it, happen in isolation. I can’t imagine getting to where I am with food and body awareness without two different therapists, who supported me in different, but equally helpful ways.

If you’re at a point in recovery when the time has come to craft your own relationship with food, but you don’t know where to start, it’s wise and self-loving to solicit some support. Your support system might be a therapist, a dietitian, or another kind of healer; it may be a friend or family member who can listen attentively and help to nurture your intuition. Asking for support and validation isn’t the same as searching for rules; it’s often the added dose of courage it takes to get in touch with one’s own hungers.

I’ll be back on Friday to talk about a reader requested topic, which is eating with others. Till then, I send you ongoing love and ongoing wishes of being in your body. Happy Wednesday, friends.

xo

The post NEDA Week 2019: Having My Own Thing appeared first on The Full Helping.

NEDA Week 2019: Having My Own Thing published first on