And Then There was Mal…
Wednesday, Feb 1 2012
anorexia recovery, consequences, evolutionary diet, fasting, fertility, fitness magazine, food, intermittent fasting, lifting weight, meal plan, mental illness, nutrition, OCD, paleo, paleolithic, primal, recovery, right nutrition, rituals, vegetarian, weight gain, weight lifting, weight loss, workout
If anyone still reads my blog, just letting you know I am alive!! What have I been up to?
Well, I have no conquered the world…yet, but I did get a raise. Even better, I get to file my taxes soon and low and behold, I will get close-to-nothing back and probably owe the state, again, while everyone else around me continues buying Doritos, frozen egg rolls and cases of Coke with their food stamps. Oh, and they get free cell phones now too, 200 free minutes. If I could only not feel like I was going to hell for working the system I would do it…but low and behold, I have a conscience.
I am actually at this obnoxious-mind-consuming crossroad in my life. I am recovered from an eating disorder but still living in my head(more often than not), I have a full time job but not moving up anytime soon(no college degree), I have a new car but can barely rub a penny between my ass to make monthly payments on top of student loans, carrying full insurance, rent, bills, cell phone…oh right, and our shitty president is giving everyone free handouts but gas is $3.45/gallon. So I am living but not getting anywhere, eating but not understanding my body and what it actually would flourish on.
Ever read a bunch of foodie blogs of gorgeous chicks and their amazing creations and then think you’re doing everything wrong? I get especially frustrated(with myself) when I read of cardio bunny Gertrude(made up name hah picked one I doubt anyone has…damnit, now I know I just offended someone) eating green smoothies laced with crack-chia-vegemite-proteinpowder-chickpea-walnutbutter…and I ponder if this is real life, and people really put stuff like this together? Her PUFA content should have her dying approximately tomorrow with diabetes and NAFLD. And where’s her beef liver and eggs OMG she’s healthy happy and NOT paleo!??!
And she isn’t lifting 300 lbs 3 times a week heavy ass squatting ass to the ground and throwing herself at the ground only to jump back up and repeat it 100 times!??! Hell, even Beyonce can drink lemon spiked cayenne detox flush drinks and have a baby. I think my pissed off tone behind this is the fact that as I understand it, and as I comprehend it, none of this should be possible because spending 2934534 hours of my life reading about health and nutrition and reading study after study tells me, right there in arial font 12 point BOLD that all this is unhealthy, all of it will cause a fatty liver, diabetes, cancer wtf ever else you want to add to the list.
BUT, and there’s a but… damn if she doesn’t look healthy and damn if she doesn’t seem happy. Is there like this shadow of shit-on-me for someone who recovers from an eating disorder that says you will have lowgrade constant depression for eternity?? To me, it feels like there is. And for all I know it may be self loathing, why don’t I just snap out of it, why don’t I get out of my head, why don’t I ‘just get over it’. Trust me, if I could just do it(no pun) I would. “Oh Mallory, you look so much better, you must be eating well these days”… do not, like ever say this to anyone whether they once looked like an emancipated crack whore or they lived off a feeding tube for 6 months. It’s just stupid.
I am not loving my body, but I cant keep hating it because it seems to function worse when I do. I got some bloodwork showing I have damn near zero inflammation in my body and an almost undetectable c-reactive protein meaning there’s no bad stuff going on. Weeee so she’s healthy(with elevated iron, obviously, no rocket scientist is needed to figure out my meat gorging with no monthly bleeding is gonna lead to elevated iron…) but I surely still am not a socially-acceptable function as I should 26 year old woman. TWENTY-SIX-YEARS-OLD….and I am scared of becoming 30, 40 and still just ‘being her’ just living repeating the same shit day after day after day.
For what it’s worth, the life long consequences of this recovery stuff from something as severe as anorexia nervosa….they blow ass. On top of blowing ass myself usually post meal, my body will forever be in ‘famine mode’….7 years starving yourself and you didn’t die so now you have the rest of your existence to pack on weight with everything you eat, live with muckin-fucked up hormones and blood sugar problems, royally shitty sleeping patterns, and the all around inability to sit with yourself, let alone sit still.
So that I stop wallowing in my own self doubt and self pity I made a list of to do’s for 2012, I know one month late. It took a while for me to get out of my own head to decide what I want to change and a direction to ‘attempt’ to go in. why the hell is change so damned hard? Hardest will be getting away from the web. I swear I develop addictions easier than anyone in the world. I can literally have 50 browser web pages open because I get this rush of reading and information and overload. What the hell is that? I haven’t the slightest clue, but I love it.
*spend an entire day lying around
*spend an entire day in the kitchen baking(food I will eat)
*travel, randomly, unplanned…especially to New Orleans
*spend 24 hours outside…sun up to sun down
*find a new adrenaline rush(that isn’t mind numbing obsession)
*get more sleep
*master 3×15 chin ups (done, once)
*take a mineral oil bath once a week with lotsa bubbles, then do girlie things like my nails and a facial
*find a place that is genuinely quiet, and listen
*meditate to the sun rising
*meditate to the sun setting
*run a 10k for a good cause
*go to church more
*get a gun, and be able to kill a m*therf*cker confidently
*volunteer at church
*pay more attention to what is going on in the world
*stay off the internet
*express myself instead of hide with a good act
*learn to can food- pressure cooker
* master my cast iron dutch oven my momma got me
*master my bone broth
*master a rue(yes, that means flour)
*put together a recipe collage, at least get one started
*make a meal 100% from scratch- seed to ground to harvest to plate with only what I produce
*plant kabocha squash(b/c I am in love…) and pray it grows well here…DONE, just ordered seeds
*start a herb garden(basil….nom)
*find some local farmers for eggs and meat
*stick to eating local(or maybe not)
*go vegetarian for a week, just because I can
*get me some oysters more often, and master shuckin
*actually CATCH a crab on the coast
*use my fishing license
*make a meal based around a Hawaiian Potato(aka Okinawan)
*master roast beef(the seasoning rub)
Oh, and get to drinkin some mixed bevvvverages more often…
And here is how I see my future. No one down here really knows me, I don’t go out, I don’t have many friends outside the work place, yet for some reason I find it hard to hang out with my family as it seems to promote oddly acute amounts of anxiety. Based on that, it surely doesn’t matter whether I am 100lbs or whether I am 170lbs, no one knows me. There isn’t anything ‘to be expected’ so if for the life of me I can figure out how to ‘just be’ I just might have a chance at developing a personality outside health/nutrition before I die….maybe, just a slight possibility. Basically, I am sick of myself. I want a friend whom I can randomly show up at their house unannounced just because, I wanna bake some cookies, listen to music and pour some strawberry daiquiris. I want to spend days in the sun at the pool with my family, grilling out and enjoying the company and food and not spending the time preoccupied in my mind catching up on sleep I didn’t get the night before. And I feel like really, this is all my fault. I don’t do these things. Hell, I tried to quit smoking and it lasted 60 hours, then I text my mom telling her I was going to slit my wrist or commit suicide because the desire to injure myself was obnoxious. All this over nicotine? I literally CRIED for almost 24 hours over a cigarette….it had been YEARS since I cried myself to sleep!
Change is hard for anyone. Change for someone with my mind is epically impossible, or so it seems, but it IS DOWNRIGHT a matter of me changing my routines and habits. I mean if I think about it, I am going to die, we all are, regardless of how we live and what we do. As soon as you’re born, you can guarantee you’re going to die, at some point. I am not the typical EAT EGG WHITE SCRAMBLED WITH SPINACH AND TOFU NUGGETS OR DIE…but I need to get away from EAT GRASSFED BEEF AND YOUR VEGETABLES MUST HAVE BUTTER AND GOD FORBID YOU DON’T EAT 2G/PROTEIN PER POUND OF LBM(or some other obnoxious amount) A DAY AND LIFT HEAVY SHIT 3 X A WEEK AND DO NOT TOUCH CORN/BEANS AND IF YOU EAT FRUIT IT IS IMMEDIATELY BEING TURNED INTO FAT BECAUSE ALL THINGS FRUCTOSE WILL KILL YOU AND ALL THINGS OMEGA 6 KEEL YOU OVER 6 FEET UNDER.
There needs to be balance… I need to find it. No one can find it but me. I idolize 2 bloggers. One is Heather @ Heather Eats Almond Butter. She probably hasn’t the slightest clue who I am, because I do not comment on her blog, but her way of living and the reflection of happiness form her blog, and soon to be 3 kids(congrats if you see this!)…it is the epitome of awesome to me. I envy her. The other is Eden @ Eden Eats Everything. She’s fucking hilarious…I lol everytime I read her blog. Our minds think alike…well maybe not. I am convinced I am the female version of Dexter…a MUST watch show for anyone with a mucked up mind. If I ever remembered to type out the funny shit that boggles my mind I could make people piss their pants. I run into some downright bizarre shit here in the south.
I need to stop obsessing about health and nutrition and seeing so onewaystreet in my thoughts about food and do some more life enjoyment…
Mardis Gras season approaching and starting should be a good place. I want to decorate my 1900 antique-20ft ceiling-rip-off-rental house for mardis gras season…and I have hardcore Baptist/Christian roommates. Baha, should be interesting. One lady at work informs me of my bloodsucking worshipping every mardis gras season…
What to give up for the 40 days and 40 nights…maybe ‘giving a fuck’ is a good place for me to start !