Holy shit. Did anyone else listen to the latest “This American Life” episode with guest host Susan Burton? She does a whole segment interviewing women with or recovering from eating disorders. I listened to the whole episode with this buzzing in my chest, not able to take a deep breath. I recognize myself in everyContinue reading “Secrets”


I consider myself a tough person. As a lifelong athlete, I’ve played through sprains and bit back tears at jammed fingers, twisted knees. When I get hurt, I don’t wail and moan–I hunker down into myself and stay quiet until the wave passes. My husband has at times hovered worriedly over me going, “What? What?Continue reading “Suffering”


To follow up on my last post, after the births of my children, neither of them could latch properly. They were both tiny, under 5 and 4 pounds at birth respectively. Their tiny mouths didn’t know how to latch, and the doctors fretted about not knowing exactly how much milk they were getting. I tookContinue reading “Quantify”


My therapist asked me why I thought I really stopped my recent purge—did I use one of our planned coping mechanisms (no), was I mindful and breathing deeply (also no), did I choose self-love and feel an overwhelming emotional connection to and forgiveness for myself (hell no)? I think she may have been happier withContinue reading “Counting”


I fret by nature—I can just immediately see things through to their final, horrible completions, and then I impotently await the awful outcomes. I can see accidents waiting the happen, injuries just waiting to occur. Miraculously, I’m not a hovering sort of mother—I don’t impede my kids’ childhood fun by telling them all the wayContinue reading “Fret”