True Love for Christmas

Photo Credit: Deviant Art

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am totally in love.

This is that special kind of love you want to shout from the rooftops so loud that every ear in the whole wide neighborhood perks up. The kind of love that makes you feel like a comic book superhero with the power to evade sleep simply because of a pure and profound joy. I seem to have acquired a giant grin that has taken up a permanent residence from cheek to cheek from which a bubbling, seemingly contagious giggle is nearly impossible to contain. I've been praying for this kind of love. This once in a lifetime, head over heels, nothings-gonna-stop-me-now kind of love.

*happy dance!*

Yeah. Love does funny things to a person. Every sense is heightened – you begin to notice the flashy deep red of the Christmas wreath bow; the soft pitter-patter of the cool, December rain on the window pane; the sweet aroma of golden caramels still fresh and sticky at The Local Store; the lingering embrace of a dear friend complete with an extra tight squeeze to anchor in the feelings of tenderness and warmth; the icy light surprise of snowflakes landing upon your tongue, instantly enlivening every taste bud as you open your mouth wider and extend your tongue out longer to capture even more of the delicately wrapped, teeny tiny masterpieces falling quietly from heaven above.

Love makes everything more beautiful, more vibrant, more thrilling. And, this thing, this glorious thing we call love comes in many forms – and often, when you least expect it.

I wasn't really looking for it. You know, “love.” I had flown down (on my own dime) to Boca Raton, Florida to volunteer my time and talents at a major, 11 day event. My purpose for being there was relatively simple. I was there to help setup, organize, and serve over 2,700 participants in any way, shape or form at a seminar entitled “Date with Destiny” led by the world renowned Anthony Robbins.

Photo Credit: Tony Robbins

A date with who, where and a what now?

First of all, who is Destiny? And why the hell do 2,700 people from 71 countries all over the world want to date her? More importantly, can I have what she's having??

Two years ago, I attended this same seminar and, truth be told, life has never been the same again. It's difficult to put into words how a six day seminar can all of a sudden rocket your life along the path that you have always wanted to be on. Are you struggling with your health, relationships, or business? Get to this seminar. Are you filled to the brim with life as is and want more of all the good the Universe has to offer? Buy a freakin' ticket and watch your bucket overflow. The distinctions you uncover, the multiple breakthroughs you experience (and yes, as Tony will tell you, even men can have multiple breakthr“Oooh...”s), and the extraordinary PEOPLE you meet are what makes this a life changing, monumental event. The staff, the volunteer crew, and the 2,700 participants from all over the world gather together for the same reason – to take their life to the next level*.

The amount of growth, love, and connection that one receives following this seminar is nothing short of earth shattering. Hell, make that sun shattering. It's as though life suddenly bursts open with brilliant rays of adventure and opportunity, each glowing streak leading you down a golden path of discovery with treasures you never dreamed possible along the way to collect as you journey forward. Because, life is all about the journey, not the destination. And yet, there is a destiny that has been masterfully designed for each one of us. And, it's our responsibility to live out our ultimate destiny. And sometimes, we just need a little nudge or perhaps a swift kick in the bum to steer us down the right road.

So this year, in gratitude, I wanted to give back to the experience that gave me so much. Plus, there is no number of energy drinks, pre-workout scoops, or cups of espresso that come close to giving you the same electrifying buzz as a Tony Robbin's seminar. Trust me. Pair that with nearly two weeks to soak in the Florida sun during the dreary Wisconsin winter, and it was a no brainer.

From December 6^th to December 17^th, I found myself living almost entirely in the moment. An 11 day blur of totally magnetic soul connections and bringing conversations to a depth that cultivates a phenomenal understand of the human heart. I shared hugs, laughter, tears, and Florida's grandest frozen hot chocolate. I was finally able to give myself permission to let go of past hurts and emotional angst that has plagued me for far too long. And then, I forgave myself for holding on to that pain. The decision to love mySELF and fully open my heart to the beauty that surrounds me came so organically that I hardly noticed. Until I really noticed. I was asking mySELF with love and affection, “How can I embrace, even more, God's pure love and divine guidance right now?” I had fully integrated my mission into my body, mind, and soul and was experiencing the pure grace of LIVING my life's purpose.

“I, Anna, see, hear, feel, and know 

that the purpose of my life is to 

radiate joy, love, and gratitude 

for God, myself, and others.”

I have fallen head over heels in love with ME. I have a lightness in my heart, a skip in my step, and a sparkle in my eye that I've perhaps experienced before, but never fully embodied or even celebrated for that matter. But by God, I'm celebrating now! And, fair warning, this love stuff is HIGHLY contagious. And, I'm prepared to spread it to the masses.

Wishing you and yours heaps of joy, love, and gratitude this Christmas season.

With abundant love,

Anna

*An Invitation to You:  If you are interested in learning more about "Date with Destiny" or desire to attend any one of Tony Robbin's seminars, please contact me.

My First Meeting

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

Nearly every Thursday these days, I attend our local Overeaters Anonymous meeting. The room is simple. There is a long folding table surrounded with seven tan, metal fold up chairs with faded pink floral seat cushions. The bookshelf is stacked with books and other OA literature for purchase or to borrow. Tacked on the bulletin board are a few special event flyers. A metallic gray boombox perches on one end of the table.

In conjunction with the layout of the small room, the format of the OA meeting is also simple. One of the members will voluntarily serve as the leader, and we typically take turns with reading or listen to a pre-recorded speaker. To begin the meeting, we recite the Serenity Prayer together. Then, we are asked to go around the room and introduce ourselves. It is here that each person states their first name only (per the tradition of anonymity) and introduces their addiction - compulsive overeater, sugar addict, bulimic, and/or anorexic.

Photo Credit: Empehi Blog

The memory of my first meeting is still fresh in my mind. I was nervous and anxious. I felt like “fresh blood” entering a room of seasoned and presumably “cured” overeaters. The members were welcoming, unassuming, and non-judgmental. And yet, I felt the heat rise high in my cheeks and my palms bead with sweat when I was asked to introduce myself. I had a momentary battle in my mind – even if I really WAS a compulsive overeater (I was still totally convinced I just lacked willpower and self-control), then why in the world would I openly identify, even label myself, as one? Doesn't coming to this meeting fix overeating? Certainly there would be strategies, goal setting, diet plans, weigh-ins and pats on the back that I would soon learn to end my overeating once and for all. I found myself feeling defensive. Had I been in a support group for cancer victims, I would have felt just as irritated if I had been asked to introduce myself by saying, “Hi, I'm Anna, and I'm cancer.” I refused to let compulsive overeating define me. As an intelligent, educated, introspective woman, I knew better. At least, I thought I did. Nevertheless, here I sat, in a cramped and cold church meeting room with five other addicts.

“Hi, I'm Anna. And, I am here.”

Thus began my journey in OA. I quickly identified a whole slew of other things about OA and the meetings that made my skin prickle with annoyance. The structure seemed drab and boring. The readings were sometimes repetitive, the process of “recovery” being slow and deliberate. And, despite the structure of the meetings, there was little advice for what I must DO to stop overeating. I just wanted someone to tell me what to do. That, or slap food out of my hand when my motivation and self-control quit working.

However, even with all the things that pin pointed and found “wrong” or upsetting about the program, I also felt a strong sense of belonging. I so deeply identified with much of the readings, the speakers, and saw myself and my struggles in the stories that other members shared aloud of their pre-OA life and recovery. Plus, I was still fearful. Fearful that I'd try OA, like I had umpteen other weight loss programs and diets, and still fail. So, I kept coming back. And, then, I'd skip a meeting. And, then, I'd go again. And, I'd ask questions. And, I'd cry. I cried in front of these men and women that I didn't even know. And, they didn't know me. But, I felt connected to them because they knew. They understood. And, we all continued to come back to OA for the same reason.

We have the desire to stop eating compulsively.

Let's Get Grateful

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

And, what kind of food junkie would I be if I didn't write on THANKSGIVING! The most EPIC FOOD FEASTING HOLIDAY OF THE YEAR!

Ehem.

What I mean, of course, is the holiday that's filled with all those darling messages about giving thanks and being grateful and counting our blessings. The holiday where we hold hands with family and friends around the dinner table, bow our heads, and say grace. The holiday where we ooo and ahh at the elaborately decorated floats and gigantic balloons of the Macy Day Parade.

Wait, what's that you say? You don't know that holiday? That description doesn't ring a bell?

Well, how about the holiday were we eat until stuffing comes out our ears and drink until wine dribbles out our nose. The holiday where we can barely keep our eyelids open while watching the football game because we're in a turkey-filled comatose. The holiday where when grandma asks, “Do you want a slice of Pumpkin or Pecan?” we promptly unbutton our pants, grab a second fork in the other hand and declare “BOTH! And don't forget the whipped cream!”

Oh, you know that one? Ahh, yes. Now THAT sounds like Thanksgiving!

All sarcasm aside, Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. And, to be quite frank, it's because most of my Thanksgivings of the past have included every single one of the above descriptions. I've always looked forward to visiting with family, filling my plate during the Thanksgiving feast, reflecting on blessings of the past year, playing cards, and digging into the leftovers even before the day is through. It's the entire Thanksgiving Experience that gets me looking forward to that special Thursday in November even before the first snowflake hits the ground.

And yet, with a deeper awareness of my disease, it's most important for me to continue to make positive strides during my recovery. I struggle on days that don't include a table piled high with heaping platters of my favorite foods. And, with that knowledge, I am more aware. I am more mindful of my choices and have conscientiously focused my day on more than just the eating.

And even today, Thanksgiving is still my favorite holiday.

I give thanks for my delightful community of yoga students who joined me this morning for a special holiday practice to fill their hearts and souls with some extra gratitude, love, and kindness.

I give thanks for a strong and healthy body, an insightful mind and a gentle spirit that are often much kinder to me than I am to them.

I give thanks for my incredible family and close friends. For the support I've received thus far from birth until now – especially during the past year.

I give thanks to my Creator, for having endless patience with me. For never once leaving my side, even when I did my very best to hide. The ultimate Master of Hide-and-Seek. (You always win.)

And, I give thanks for the food. For nourishing every part of my human-being. And for being so damn delicious.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Tug-O-War

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

9:03PM – I'm hungry. At least, I think I am hungry. As a compulsive eater, I can't always decipher my body's true needs in conjunction with my mind's psychological trickery. At times, my brain becomes trapped, a slimy Lochnest beast, screeching and pawing from the depths of my bottomless pit of a belly - greedy and noisy and totally insatiable.

Within a matter of seconds, my body and mind begin a serious game of tug-o-war – each side fighting to be the strongest to yank the rope in a valiant attempt to make a seemingly simple decision: To eat or not to eat. Yes, that IS the question. But, for a compulsive eater, it's not always so simple. I am not able, sometimes, to decipher when eating food will satisfy appropriately or trigger a binge. Depending on the quantity of food consumed (even normal, healthy portions) or a specific type of food (or certain food groups), I may be risking an eating binge. Sometimes, making even the “simplest” of food decisions has the potential to put me in a frightful state, literally activating my fight or flight response. My mind erupts in a Civil War. My heart begins to race and my jaw tightens as I grind my teeth. Unconsciously, I chew the insides of my mouth, ripping and tearing the soft pink edges of my tongue. I have difficulty concentrating as I frantically try to distract myself (“Think, think, THINK!”) and potentially dispel the powerful urge to find food immediately.

Photo Credit: The Daily Caller

But, perhaps I really AM hungry? I notice a slight gnawing feeling in my belly and hear a quiet rumble. Not giving in to a craving is one thing, but depriving my body is another. When was the last time I ate? Did I eat too little for dinner? How about that piece of fruit I had an hour ago? My belly monster should not be shouting this loud. It's cries reverberating within my skull like echoes bouncing throughout a drafty, cavernous cathedral. No brain, no focus. I'm a ravenous Scarecrow from the Wizard of freaking Oz – if I only had a brain...

Sane thoughts do pop up, here and there, as I try one last attempt to quiet the belly beast. “It's late, you'll be going to bed in a couple of hours. You can hold out at least that long, right?” I run through a mental list. Try meditating? (Not again...) Pray? (*sigh*) Write? (I am writing, damn it.) Go for a walk, breath in the fresh air? (Hells no. It's colder than a packet of frozen peas outside!)

I think I really am hungry.

The soldiers slowly begin to ceasefire as my mind begins to contemplate food options. My brain quickly calculates just what and how much I should eat - it is nearing bedtime, after all. It's important for me to consider this carefully. It's easy to overindulge after the stress-filled battle my mind has just put me through. For normal eaters and overeaters alike, stress often activates the desire to eat. When we eat, we automatically take deeper, more satisfying breaths. Take note of that the next time you eat in an anxious state. It's no wonder so many people often feel physically calmer after a meal.

This whole scenario doesn't last for more than 5-10 minutes. On other days, it may be longer depending on how many distraction tactics I can talk myself into doing. Regardless, it complicates my food decisions - nearly every single one.

In our modern culture, how many times a day are we faced with food related decisions? The office potluck, our friend's birthday party, weekly grocery shopping, and, of course, the ultimate food holiday coming up right around the corner, Thanksgiving. Do you feel as though your hunger cues get spun up like a cycle of whirling laundry, twirling until the feelings blur together, and you can't clearly detect want over need?

Photo Credit: Silver Circle Art Center

Though I still continue to feel this way sometimes (especially as night falls...), I am actively training my mind and body to find deeper alignment so I can better understand my feelings towards food and make decisions out of love for myself and the recovery I have dedicated myself to. I want to turn my mental battles into a field of daisy's and whispering winds – gimme the unicorns and fluffy pick clouds. Is that too much to ask?

Bad Days

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

Just last week, I had someone ask me, “Anna, do you ever have a bad day?” Ironically enough, this someone happens to be a woman that I see nearly ever week in my Overeaters Anonymous meeting. “Well, of COURSE I have bad days!” I professed. I have frustrating days, joyous days, sick days, Mondays, I'm-feeling-blue days, and lots of yesterdays. Everyday, is a being human day. Just recently, in fact, the Universe reminded me repeatedly of just how “human” I really am. Three weeks ago, I washed my deodorant doing laundry. On Monday, I scorched not one, but two pots when cooking oatmeal for breakfast and steaming broccoli for supper. And, last weekend, I passed through the drive-through at Culvers, feeling particularly sorry for myself as I mentally crossed my fingers that a concrete mixer would make me feel just a tiny smidgen better. In my foggy, sad state, I ate the entire damn thing. And, I most certainly justified it all the way up until the plastic cup was scraped clean. (Tell me, what woman doesn't crave ice cream during that time of the month??) Then, I chased it with kettle chips, nearly half a bag, as I watched a spiritually uplifting documentary on Netflix.  The "spiritually uplifting" part being specifically chosen in an attempt to balance out all the ugly, woe-is-me mind chatter.

Photo Credit: Unoriginal Mom

Odd. I wasn't feeling any better.  Nope, natta. In fact, I felt bloated, lazy, and even sorrier for myself. This was clearly a bad day gone badder.

Dang. As much as I wish I didn't have those days, they still find me. Not everyday, but certainly more often than I ever care to admit to myself. In my recovery, I pray the worry and anxiety would be lifted from me and from anyone else who suffers with those triggering feelings. Our vices may manifest in differing ways, but they creep upon us like a burglar lurking in the night – ready to steal our joy, our faith, our hope for recovery and a better, brighter future.

And yet, even though I have bad days, I also have tomorrows. Tomorrows are not a guarantee, but when I am greeted by the sunrise, I see the start of a new day, a fresh beginning to continue to live one day at a time as best as I know how.

Photo Credit: Anna Lucas

It wasn't the first time I had ever been asked if I have bad days. I am generally a very happy, smiley person, so it's no wonder that people might think bad days for me are seemingly non-existent. But, I have them – oh boy, do I have them. And, when they do appear, I do my best. I try to be realistic and optimistic (though every ounce of my being feels ridden with humbuggery). I might journal (cursing like a sailor into the pages) or pray (pissing and moaning and whining and sighing) or just curl up on my futon to watch the latest RedBox chick flick, with a box of tissues and a glass of vino. Sometimes, I think, you just have to just get through the bad days and wait it out until the next sunrise.

Circles

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

I returned from my travels abroad in the spring of 2011 with a renewed enthusiasm to immerse myself back into the health and wellness field, both in my career aspirations and for my own personal health reasons. I soon found employment at a local health club (See “BackgroundCheck”) and within the bubble of the fitness center, surrounded by gym junkies, and other “health nuts,” I felt hopeful that I could refill my empty tank through focused attention on my nutrition and fitness.

And yet, despite my growing love and passion for all things wellness-related, I never felt completely convinced that what I was doing to achieve my health and fitness goals was sustainable. I felt desperate – putting faith into fitness and nutrition tips from “Shape” or “Health” magazine. The scale became my god as I religiously weighed-in several times a week, sometimes multiple times a day. And, though I saw what I conceived as weight loss “success” during those initial few months, I was no where near satisfied. I scrutinized my body in the shower and in the mirror and thought, “I must do better.”

At the same time, I was falling into a self-sabotaging cycle. Monday through Friday, I planned my meals, scheduled my exercise, and, frankly, worked my ass off doing what I thought I should be doing to see results at my next weigh-in. But, when the weekend hit, all bets were off. I drank, I binged, I slept. Saturday and Sunday meant coming up for air from the depths of the Certainty Sea, gulping and consuming for 48 hours, before submerging myself back into it's quiet, seemingly more peaceful, routine waters.

Photo Credit: Forty-Second Chance

Monday became my Restart Day. Every week. My frustration with myself and my obvious lack of willpower began to build, higher and higher, until it became as rickety as a Jenga tower. I had this strong sense that my relationship with food and exercise at that point was very precarious. And despite my deep desire to WANT to be loving and kind to my body, I felt as though the weekends were a constant and regular reminder that I was weak and destined for failure. I loathed the extra fat on my body, as it was a tangible reminder to me that I could not control my cravings or my excessive eating. I had an impossible time forgiving myself when I felt I was the only one to blame.

My eating was out of control. So, that spring I tried a 7-day juice fast. No solid food, only juice, for one full week. I had recently watched “Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead” and thought, “Dang, I can do that!” For the first 3-4 days, the liquid cleanse actually felt freeing. I didn't need to fret about eating too much because I literally drank ever single one of my meals. Yet, despite the book's claim to feel energized and practically euphoric at the conclusion of the cleanse, by day 6 & 7, I found myself completely drained, extraordinarily grumpy, and wholly pissed off at the world. At that point, the weight I had “lost” didn't even matter. I couldn't wait to eat - chew something! But, I was determined not to quit, and completed the 7-day juice fast in its entirety. That's the thing about compulsive eaters. We actually have an enormous amount of willpower when we set our minds to something. But, it rarely lasts, especially when extreme diets are involved. I began the 7-day juice fast with the intention of doing something healthy and loving for my body, and I came out with a lesson learned – I started to suspect that my relationship with eating and consuming certain foods was not normal. And that really freaked me out.

At that point, I didn't really know what to do. So, I just reverted back to my weekday ON and weekends OFF cycle for a couple months. Then summer hit. And, with another serge of renewed motivation after a weekend binge, I came up with a brilliant plan. I created my own challenge, my own program for accountability. I set up the “Final 20 Challenge” with a goal to lose 20 lbs in 3 months and reach my ultimate goal of 155lbs. I created a blog, drafted an email to family and friends, and requested their support and participation in my journey. I saw this set up as failproof. As a weight loss coach who outwardly lived and breathed health, fitness, and wellness, it would be a momentous embarrassment to not reach this very attainable goal. Plus, I invited friends and family to sponsor me financially. If I reached my goal, they would pay me the amount they pledged. If I didn't, I would pay them the same amount. And, if they picked a fitness or weight loss goal and achieved it along with me, it would cancel out the pledge, thus being a win-win for both of us.

The Final 20 Challenge blog, posts and pictures are still viewable today. But, it's not a source of major pride for me, even though I did, in fact, end up reaching my goal. The truth was, I didn't get truly serious about the challenge until about 6 weeks prior to the deadline. So, what I had initially intended to be a healthy, gradual weight loss over the course of 12 weeks, turned into a frantic and hugely stressful period of taking my weight loss tactics to even greater extremes. I consumed diet pills, took Epsom salt baths and long saunas, committed to twice daily workouts and even tapered my water intake during the final 2 weeks. These were all “health tips” I learned from friends or found on websites devoted to cutting weight for body builders and/or wrestlers. With three days left before my challenge end date, I hit my goal.

I still remember the shower I took that morning. I was shocked and saddened to notice how my breasts sagged, no longer round and plump for lack of hydration and fat. Seeing “155” on the scale had given me this overwhelming sense of relief when I finally gave myself permission to stop the crazy obsessiveness from continuing to consume me. I had taken my body to an extreme that I knew was a far cry from loving and healthy. I had reached a point of severe desperation, clinging to a challenge and the stress of a deadline to force my body to become what I thought I really wanted; what I thought would make me truly happy. I was seeking fulfillment in something that, in the end, still left me feeling empty and wholly depleted.

I was, slowly but surely, realizing that no amount of food was going to satisfy the hunger I continued to feel. I felt really lost. I was beginning to wonder if this terrifying cycle of self-destruction was an inevitable part of my future. But, even as the thoughts passed through my mind, I couldn't seem to believe that to be true. We are all destined for greatness, in some way, shape or form. That I truly believed. And, with that glimmer of hope, I went looking for the road home.

Photo Credit: Kinja

#freequote

“I shouldn’t have freely and compassionately worked on my spiritual wellness, happiness and health in my late 20s,” said nobody ever.

Quote Credit: Matilda Juliette

Free Falling My Way

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

I grew up in a traditional, Catholic family. My parents had me baptized, placed me in Catholic school, and brought me to church every Sunday morning. I went to church because, truthfully, I didn't have much choice in the matter. In 5^th grade, I read the New Testament because my dad offered to pay me $100 if I did. Though I was an avid reader growing up, consuming books like a boa constrictor devours dinner, I recall sitting in my favorite recliner and barely making it through two pages before my eyelids began to droop, and I'd literally have to smack myself in the face to stay alert. In the five months it took me to read that half of the Bible, I can't tell you the number of times I was tempted to pretend-read while systematically turning pages at the appropriate time increments. And yet, somehow I felt as though the Bible contained the very eyes of God, and He'd undoubtably notice if I cheated my way through reading His book. What a glorious day it was when I finally read the last chapter, the final verse and collected my $100 reward. From a small child to young adult, I grew up singing to God, praying to God, loving, and fearing God. Then, I began questioning God.

Photo Credit: Jewels of Judaism

"Who is God, really?” I wondered. I started calling God “She” because what right did the Bible have to personify God as masculine? Then, even the name “God” didn't feel right. I started experimenting with a variety of titles - Higher Power & Great Creator. The word “God” felt too constricting, a cell of solitary confinement that I feared would bring separation and alienation from people as I worked to expand my friendships and connections in college and in the “real-world.” My Sunday church going rapidly dwindled from every Sunday to every other week to “I'll just go when it's convenient.” From the age of 18 to 25, convenient came to mean Christmas and Easter – maybe. And, that was simply because it was a family affair and part of the holiday tradition, not because I had a real desire to attend.

Around my junior and senior year of university, I began to sense a void. Something seemed to be missing and no amount of focus on schoolwork, dating, travel or social activities seemed to fill the empty space that I felt in my very soul. Intuitively, I knew I was missing the spiritual component to my life, and yet, the thought of dragging myself to another Catholic Sunday service was disheartening, to say the least. I had so many questions surrounding God (or, could it be gods?) and my life's purpose. I feared that no faith community existed which would welcome my doubting and inquisitive mind. I wasn't even entirely sure that I believed in a god anymore. Yet, the universal belief that something bigger, more beautiful, and more powerful than I could possibly fathom existed was something I felt I could trust in. So, I simply chose to start there.

During my senior year, I tested out a few church services in my college community, dappled in a couple Bible studies, and trusted my gut. I left some churches feeling like I had just gotten a touch of food poisoning, so I left those alone and moved on. I had a whole slew of churchy folk shove pamphlets and booklets into my hands and attempt to cram Bible verses and teachings past my tightly zipped lips and down my throat, as though shear force would *POOF!* turn me Christian. My curiosity in religion was a magnet for well meaning, God-happy people. It didn't repel me completely from my spiritual quest, but I certainly could not authentically mirror their enthusiasm. Eventually, with graduation approaching and a hunger for world travel, I placed my church-hopping on the back burner and, instead, set my sights on international exploration in attempts to continue my soul searching.

Ignoring the majority of church doctrine, I simply tried to live life in the best way I knew how with the tools I had been given and lessoned I had learned. During my travel abroad, I relied much on instant gratification and finding short-lived pleasure through food, adrenaline rush activities, quick friendships, sex, and being gloriously independent. I felt very much in control of my own happiness. I was living life my way and getting a lot of satisfaction from it. So, I felt like I was happy. Thus, I acted like I was happy. And therefore, I looked like I was happy. My travel blogs and Facebook albums showed an enviable life of a fearless woman who wasn't afraid to take life by the balls and LIVE IT UP.

A favorite quote by Lawrence K. Fish became my daily mantra - “Exhaust {myself} in the glorious pursuit of life.”

Photo Credit: Susan's Books and Gifts

I was succeeding. I was exhausted. And I desperately needed my tank refilled.

Background Check

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

My journey has been as unique as a fingerprint - swirling, twirling, and becoming ever more wrinkly.  Over the years, I've combated my disordered eating in a variety of different ways. More often than not, the fight included some type of diet, perhaps through an organized program like Weight Watchers or HMR, or my own personal program that I threw myself into after a particularly intense bout of excessive eating. Along with a more structured diet, I typically upped my exercise significantly, sometimes even making a run or workout a grueling punishment for having “fallen off track.” While I felt more secure with the controlled and regimented nature of having a specific diet and/or fitness plan, the nature and mindset of which I approached my new “healthy lifestyle” was far from enjoyable. Which, consequently, made it totally unsustainable for the long term. And thus, in my mind, it became another “FAIL” to add to the growing tally of unkept personal promises. 

*Photo Credit - Beechwood Cross

Background Check:

In June of 2011, I was hired as a motivational weight loss coach at a local health club. Even the process of applying, interviewing, and accepting the position seemed like a hugely hypocritical life decision. I still struggled, significantly, with my relationship to food and, at the time was about 45 lbs over-fat and grossly out of shape. Nevertheless, I accepted the position for two major reasons:

1. I was thrilled to get a position in my field of study! In fact, coaching and behavior change with regards to weight loss and healthy living had been my main area of focus when earning my Health Promotion and Wellness degree.
2. Secretly, I hoped and prayed that if I surrounded myself in an environment of health-focused individuals, I would have the accountability and “will-power” I assumed I was seriously lacking.

So, I swallowed my insecurities and started my new job as a part-time Wellness Coach. Within one months time, this position morphed into a full-time gig as manager and sales lead for the entire weight loss program. In the first 4 months, I lost 30 lbs. On the one hand, I was elated. I was back on track! On the other hand, I feared that a life outside of the gym would spiral me right back to where I began. That was the pattern. Weeks or months of focus and diligence, only to be followed by disempowerment and mental weakness. And, though I was losing weight, I didn't feel truly connected to my body. I was still a compulsive overeater, only with greater determination and cozily wrapped in a blanket of vanity to “look good” and attract compliments and encouragements from co-workers, members, family, and friends. And yet, I could never fully accept the compliments I received. I couldn't seem to believe the kind words because I felt my “success” was only temporary. Each day, I wondered if my will-power would slip. I lived in a fairly consistent, internal state of mental and emotional fear. My family and friends didn't have a clue. I felt that this was my burden to bare, no one else's. Everyone has “stuff” - why bother them with something so seemingly insignificant in the great spectrum of life's struggles? I put an enormous amount of pressure to “fix” myself on my own. So, determined to stay in control of my situation, I didn't realize that my life had truly become unmanageable. I was fiercely independent, prideful and private, intent on keeping up an image of myself that I desperately prayed would manifest into greater health and happiness. I was in the “fake it until you make it” mindset - hook, line, and sinker.

My life was being dictated by fear. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and kept my fingers crossed. I was fighting, not Flowing. Carl Jung once said, “What you resist persists.” But, I wasn't ready to give up the control that I was frantically trying to maintain. However, when we try to control something in our lives, this sense of personal power and entitlement does not leave room for the discovery of your natural rhythm and allowing the freedom of Flow.

I was learning.

“Attention feeds energy; therefore, we empower that which we focus on and attract that which we fear. This is one of the hidden laws of the universe.”

- Ascension.net

Naked Love

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

I love showering. To feel the continuous stream of water against my bare skin, watching the steam rise, like a sleepy fog, the air thickening, hot and damp. My already pink flesh reddens in patches, as I nearly always keep the temperature of the water two degrees less than scalding. I notice how the curves of my body create mini waterfalls – I only need to slightly shift to see a new one form.

*Photo Credit: Getty Images

And shampoo! God, I love that stuff. The lather, rinse, repeat is a recipe for head massage bliss. My hair is long and thick with golden streaks left over from the summer sun. My fingers kneed my scalp like a proud baker tenderly massaging soft dough. The lather thickens and my head feels like how I imagine a cloud would feel – spongy, malleable, and heavy. I grab the bar of soap, rubbing rapidly with my hands until a foam appears.

Actually, I hate showering.

In the past, it was common for me to do this part completely unaware of my body. I cleaned myself throughly, but without appreciation, without gratitude. Sometimes even with malice and utter disappointment for the shape, size, and contour of my figure. In moments like this, I lost my sense of femininity. I felt far from sexy and desirable. My mind led me to dark, spidery corners where voiced jeered and sneered. To combat the malicious voices, I did this part numbly, focused solely on just getting clean, rinsing off and getting out.

I heard those voices yesterday. This time, I allowed myself to listen. Not push them away or resist as I used to, but listen attentively, thoroughly fascinated. What a curious thing, to be attending to and physically doing something caring for my body, but to recognize my mind filling with a whole host of ugly judgements.

Then, I reflected.

Today, I turned my shower time into my personal Seven Minutes in Heaven. This me-time became my time to shower my female form with deep appreciation and love. The water was my reminder to submerge my whole naked self in praise and gratitude. This time, I studied my body. With pleasure and admiration, I really saw the soft, blond hairs on my arms, the wrinkles on my knuckles, the stretchmarks on my breasts, the birthmark on my belly, the dimples on my thighs, and the calluses on my heels. What a beautiful and glorious body I have! And, I smiled from the inside out.

It's a few steps further along the path of self-discovery and recovery. Self-love is forever on-going. It doesn't matter how many times you hear it from others, it's important to discover and realize it for YOU.

So, go on - find love in the shower.

“Whoever gets sense loves his own soul; s/he who keeps understanding will discover good...” Proverbs 19:8

#quoteselfie

"For me, shaving is like exercise. Most often, it's a pain and a bother to get started, but the end result leaves me feeling glorious and shiny."

Soul-surgery

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

A lot happened in the months leading up to my first Overeaters Anonymous meeting. The pervious summer, I had uprooted my life in Wisconsin and moved to Belgium to live with my then Belgian-boyfriend. Less than six weeks after I had moved, we broke up. Subsequently, I traveled in a sort of foggy, emotional haze through Europe in the weeks that followed – I visited close friends, I hiked, I cried, I slept and I listened to personal development CDs, all of which, cumulatively, became my way of nursing my ego and mending my bruised and broken heart. In September, when I moved back to the states, I decided to get my 200-hour yoga teacher certification, invested $4000+, and sequestered myself in the Colorado mountains for a 21-day intensive training. Of course, the healing process only continued.

During my time in Colorado the following month, I had a lot of time to self-reflect. I spent countless hours in meditation, doing yoga, and venturing out on solo explorations through the mountains. And, it gave me a lot of time to think. It also brought up a lot of questions. Most of my questions boiled down to: How do I make it stop? The pain. The confusion. The ugly, shrill voice that won't shut-up inside my head. There nothing quite like a breakup to encourage you to fully examine your own self-worth. This is especially true when you discover a pattern of having placed so much of your worthiness and self-love into the hands of another human, constantly waiting and hoping for them to validate and affirm that you are desired, wanted, and loved. Then, when you are cut off from said human, it's natural to experience feelings of despair, hopelessness and self-piety. When those feelings of inadequacy become unbearably strong, it's no wonder so many people turn to addictive substances or unhealthy behaviors to quiet or numb the rejection and fear that become our emotional aftermath.

While I will not deny slipping into bouts of compulsive overeating during that period, it was then that I began to realize the power of really feeling those feelings, not numbing them. I started to recognizing that there is a message, a lesson beyond the pain and confusion I was experiencing. And, even if I didn't know exactly what that message was yet, it was there. It was within reach. There was a part of me that knew, deep down, that feeding the hungry bellies of the creatures that dwelled within my mind was only a temporary patch. The message I was looking for required some hard core, soul-surgery. The answers to the questions I kept asking was within me. The real question then became: Am I prepared to dig deeper?

Dirty Little Secret

Since launching this blog just two days ago, I am overflowing with gratitude. The response has been overwhelmingly encouraging and wholly supportive. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU - from the bottom of my heart.

Along with the launch, I sent out a personal request to many. And today, I wish extend this invitation to you.

“Would you please help me to spread awareness of food addiction? I know I am not alone in my struggle.  And yet, the disease of compulsive overeating is often kept quiet, contained to the confines of the kitchen, our jail cell.  I am choosing, now, to leave behind the ugliness of Embarrassment and Shame that have accompanied my disordered eating for years.  I choose now, to replace it with Honesty and Truth in the hope that sharing my wellness journey might help others who suffer. Obviously, this topic is near and dear to my heart. It is my goal to get the message out to as many people as I can possibly reach.”

The disease of compulsive eating is not glaringly obvious. We are your neighbors, the barista at your favorite cafe, and the teller at your local credit union. As mentioned before, this disease is more often than not kept behind closed doors. Held tight and close, like a dirty little secret. By sharing, reposting or emailing this blog, you could be the catalyst to recovery and healing for a person you may not know was suffering. Thank you, in advance, for sharing my story.

Be well,

Anna xx

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

For years, I've kept this dirty little secret inside. Only in the past few months did I begin to disclose to others, mostly loved ones or friends, that I struggled with compulsive overeating. To be honest, it wasn't until this past February 2014 that I even knew compulsive overeating was a “thing.”

It was a particularly frigid, sub-zero evening in early February. That day, I had instructed four yoga classes. You would think that I would be wholly zenned out, and yet, on my way home from the studio, Anxiety stuck out her thumb on the side of the road, and I pulled over. She climbed into the passengers seat of my compact 1998 VW Beetle, flakes of snow melting in the heat. I've always had a hard time saying no to hitchhikers, and this one in particular looked desperate.

Once we reached my apartment, I fixed dinner. We ate, and I dropped the dishes in the sink. I opened the fridge glancing inside. I reached for yesterday's leftovers, not bothering to even heat it up. I ate, checking Facebook on my smart phone. I left the tupperware on my table, and walked to the kitchen cupboards. Opening them, I surveyed the options. Grabbing a box, I walked to the bedroom. Handful after handful, I consumed until I felt crumbs at the base of the box. At this point, I was beyond uncomfortably full – and yet, there is always room for dessert, right? Something sweet, and THEN, then I'll be finished. Opening the freezer, my mind as numb as the ice crystals on the walls, I reached for more. “Snap out of it!” a muted voice from the far reaching ends of my brain yelled. But, the actions seemed no longer my own.

Walking back into the living room, I realized that Anxiety had slipped quietly away while my eyes were scanning for sweets. Instead, Guilt, Disgust, and Self-loathing had made themselves at home on my futon. Damn. I was not expecting company. And lately, this trio of sloppy, grumbling house guests had been making themselves more and more comfortable, visiting nearly every evening without invitation.

Being addicted to something, any something, can be terrifying. That night, Guilt, Disgust, and Self-loathing taunted and teased me relentlessly – worse even than the class bully. I had no where to hide. These self-righteous creatures had invaded my home, my sanctuary, my mind. I felt broken and worthless; terrified, horrified, and utterly alone. And this torturous nagging had been going on since high school – only now, it was becoming much more frequent. I felt myself hiking a dangerously slow climb over jagged rocks and crumbling earth on my ascent to the highest peak of Mt. Despair.

I don't remember what I google searched that night, but somehow, by the grace of God, I found www.oa.org. Overeaters Anonymous. A group in the nearby town met every Thursday night at a local church. I texted my friend.

“I'm hurting, I'm afraid, and I need help. I am going to check out an OA meeting next week. I just needed to tell someone. Anna xx”

Six days later, I went to my first Overeaters Anonymous meeting.

Hello, this is Me.

Hello. My name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

For as long as I can remember, I've had an abnormal relationship with food. I can recall being a little girl, visiting my Italian grandmother in California and, while eating dinner, having her exclaim, “My, my Anna! You are such a good little eater!” I grinned, helping myself to more.

I was raised in a family where my Italian bloodline was practically infused with pasta and wine, and my Polish side loved their beer. Family gatherings, on either side of the family, always meant a plethora of food, drink, and dessert. Food equaled love. And I loved food.

During my sophomore year of high school, I began to notice that most of my girlfriends were a lot smaller than me. As I watched them spin and pump their pom-poms during the basketball game half-time, I thought, “What am I doing wrong?” My girlfriends were dating, whispering stories about their first kiss, while I prayed every night before bed that my current crush would ask me to the Homecoming Dance. Something must be wrong, and I was determined to fix it.

In the five months that followed, I dropped over 40 lbs. I had no real knowledge how to lose weight “healthfully.” The only strategy I knew of was to eat less (a LOT less) and exercised more (every day without fail). For nearly 150 days, I went to bed hungry every night. I played mind games with myself, successfully convincing myself that I hated pizza and chocolate so that in the event that someone offered it to me I would immediately wrinkle my nose and say, “Oh God no, I despise the stuff.”

It's interesting, you may note, that I introduced myself as a compulsive overeater when I've just finished telling you about my five month stint of major nutrition deprivation and rigorous exercise. Compulsive overeaters have the ability to be extremely disciplined. But, eventually, we hit a breaking point.

My breaking point happened in June of 2003 when my family took a vacation to Europe for one month. I was thrilled to be wearing my first two piece swimsuit while basking on the Greek Islands. I had also finally given myself permission to eat. And I ATE. I had second and third helpings of food at our friends homes and was just shy of licking my plate clean at the restaurants we dined at. Having deprived myself so greatly for almost half a year, I was more than willing to eat my way through Germany, Italy and Greece. I frequently went to bed so stuffed, that I remember being utterly relieved to be going to sleep for 7-8 hours so I could give my body a break and not have to think about not eating. Food was my constant travel companion; my next meal being mentally planned almost immediately after we had finished eating. I gained 10+ lbs during that month abroad. And therein began my cronic battle with food addiction.

Eleven years later and here I am sharing my story. Inviting you along to follow my journey to recovery. It's a bumpy ride, but I look forward to sharing many of the insights I've learned and discovered along the way.

The purpose of this blog is to bring to light the disease of compulsive overeating, food, and exercise addition. This disease is serious, dangerous, and is often extremely debilitating emotionally, mentally, and physically. And yet, there is hope. I find hope and strength in support groups, mentors, and by creating awareness through community. Know that you are not alone. You are not defined by your compulsive eating. Let us come together and rally in support of one another, along with reaching out to friends and family who suffer in silence. Together, we are a force for good. A united front towards healing, self-love, and forgiveness of ourselves - one day at a time.

Be well,

Anna

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