Life with anorexia is like a can of Chicken and Stars soup: you always know what you're gonna get.
Damn. That's pretty philosophical coming from me, seeing as I had to drop my ethics class in college because the professor looked exactly like Shaggy fromScooby - Dooand I just couldn't quite take it seriously.
But for those who say that variety is the spice of life obviously don't know someone with anorexia and OCD . Because I'm not a gal who likes variety. If variety is spice, then that spice is like doing a shot of purecapsaicin. Not pleasant.
Life without my eating disorder was, to me, quite unpredictable. It was like getting served different soup everyday, only half the time I hated it, and most of the rest was barely tolerable. But then there was the Chicken and Stars out of the can. Not exactly haute cuisine - in fact, basically it was the exact opposite. Condensed soup- does a body good. But every can of Chicken and Stars was the same. It was reliable. I knew what I was getting, and even though it wasn't my favorite, I could deal with it.
Then something odd happened. I didn't just have to have Chicken and Stars soup. I had to buy it from the same store. Then I could only eat the same lot number. And on and on. Soon I found I had to count the itty -bitty stars in the can before I knew it was "safe" to eat.
Now, I'm going back to the buffet table. I don't like this. I miss the Chicken and Stars, I really do. I know there are many many better soups out there, but the safety of Chicken and Stars was comforting. It took the edge off of the anxiety that ruled my life in every other area. I don't like getting different soup every single day.
The problem is that so many people around me (thedieters at work, for example) are discovering the joys of Chicken and Stars, while I am having to leave the familiar red and white can behind. Maybe it's different for them, maybe they can go back to the smorgasbord of soup that is life whenever they want. Maybe I don't have that ability- at least not without hospital stays and years of therapy.
I feel like a toddler: I WANT MY CHICKEN AND STARS, DAMMIT!!!
I am only beginning to learn that life, by its very nature, is unpredictable. And that I have the ability to deal with that, to accept that shit happens, and it will be okay. That I can handle it, head on, that I don't need Chicken and Stars to dull the anxiety. Maybe I thought I did before. I don't like that itchy feeling that comes with uncertainty.
Damn. That's pretty philosophical coming from me, seeing as I had to drop my ethics class in college because the professor looked exactly like Shaggy from Scooby - Doo and I just couldn't quite take it seriously.
But for those who say that variety is the spice of life obviously don't know someone with anorexia and OCD . Because I'm not a gal who likes variety. If variety is spice, then that spice is like doing a shot of pure capsaicin . Not pleasant.
Life without my eating disorder was, to me, quite unpredictable. It was like getting served different soup everyday, only half the time I hated it, and most of the rest was barely tolerable. But then there was the Chicken and Stars out of the can. Not exactly haute cuisine - in fact, basically it was the exact opposite. Condensed soup- does a body good. But every can of Chicken and Stars was the same. It was reliable. I knew what I was getting, and even though it wasn't my favorite, I could deal with it.
Then something odd happened. I didn't just have to have Chicken and Stars soup. I had to buy it from the same store. Then I could only eat the same lot number. And on and on. Soon I found I had to count the itty -bitty stars in the can before I knew it was "safe" to eat.
Now, I'm going back to the buffet table. I don't like this. I miss the Chicken and Stars, I really do. I know there are many many better soups out there, but the safety of Chicken and Stars was comforting. It took the edge off of the anxiety that ruled my life in every other area. I don't like getting different soup every single day.
The problem is that so many people around me (the dieters at work , for example) are discovering the joys of Chicken and Stars, while I am having to leave the familiar red and white can behind. Maybe it's different for them, maybe they can go back to the smorgasbord of soup that is life whenever they want. Maybe I don't have that ability- at least not without hospital stays and years of therapy.
I feel like a toddler: I WANT MY CHICKEN AND STARS, DAMMIT!!!
I am only beginning to learn that life, by its very nature, is unpredictable. And that I have the ability to deal with that, to accept that shit happens, and it will be okay. That I can handle it, head on, that I don't need Chicken and Stars to dull the anxiety. Maybe I thought I did before. I don't like that itchy feeling that comes with uncertainty.
But I am finally coming to ditch the can.