The Truth about Truths: Embracing and Navigating Contradiction in and Beyond Recovery
Something I learned in therapy was that two things can be true at the same time. It can be that the way someone else views something may completely contradict the way you see it, but ultimately both views are true because both of you are experiencing it. This two truths concept also applies to thoughts and beliefs we host within ourselves.
A lot of the therapy I underwent for my eating disorder recovery focused on identifying and embracing these kinds of insistent contradictions.
For example, one truth I held steadfastly was, “I don’t want an eating disorder.” And another equally real truth I had was “I am scared to give up my eating disorder.”
The key to being able to navigate both truths is to embrace them both— NOT set them up in conflict to one another. The first step is as simple and as subtle as word choice when speaking or even thinking about them.
We tend to use “but” when comparing two things that seem to contradict one another:
“I don’t want an eating disorder BUT I am scared to give it up.”
However, something changes when you replace that “but” for “and”:
“I don’t want an eating disorder, AND I am afraid to give it up.”
The latter validates both perceptions but does NOT so planitively put one above the other.
“But” infers that the fear is stronger than the will to live without an ED. “And” allows the possibility to be afraid, but do it anyways.
There is a story about a warrior and his meeting with fear, taught by Pema Chodron. The ultimate revelation the young warrior comes away with from this meeting is that bravery is NOT the absence of fear; It is feeling the fear, BELIEVING it, with every cell in your body, and facing it anyways.
It is not: “I want to, BUT I am afraid.” It is: “I want to, AND I am afraid.”
Unlike the former, which almost immediately dismisses any action, the latter births the opportunity for both truths to coexist, and for the fear to be conquered.
I am not currently in therapy, and I’m not really “recovering” anymore, but I am still living in this place of navigating two truths.
A big one right now that I hold is: “I am so grateful to have made it this far in my recovery, AND I am sometimes nostalgic for the identity my eating disorder gave me.”
Another is: “I am proud of my body, and I love being healthy AND I often think I would be happier if I lost weight.”
Sometimes these truths are even more specific to a moment. Take this past week for example, when I took a spontaneous trip to a family cottage for some r&r by the lake. I was having repeating thoughts of “I really want to get a good sweat from a workout AND I want to relax and do nothing.”
And on a similar train: “I feel guilty and not hungry for dinner from eating so many appetizers on the dock AND I am still looking forward to eating more at dinner.”
It’s hard, honestly, navigating these two often equally compelling voices. Ultimately, the healthier one always drowns out the one I know instinctively is rooted in my ED neural pathways. That’s what makes it uncomfortable. Continuing to eat, and rest, and attempt to feel happy and at ease in my skin, and to NOT fixate on what I eat or how much I weigh, while simultaneously living with this feeling that I “should” be doing a lot of the things that I used to do (a lot of things that a lot of people without EDs do: opting for “healthier” options, watching what they eat, having a strict workout regime, etc.)
Sometimes, it feels like I’m driving backwards on the highway, trying to live up to the healthier truth.
Even though I am pretty good at this point at doing the right things for my mental and physical health, there are still moments when it seems like the wrong thing.
Restricting and exercise were always a quick fix for any larger stressor in my life.
Fighting with my family? Don’t eat dinner.
Feeling sad or lonely that I didn’t have plans on a friday night? Go for a run.
Realizing how lonely I am, feeling disconnected from all my friends? Try even harder to change my body, thinking if I looked the way I thought I “should” look, I would be more likable, more loveable, and regain those kinds of connections I had thwarted.
None of these quick fixes ever really fixed anything, obviously. They only led me further into my eating disorder and farther from the kind of connection and happiness I was seeking.
So I do realistically and rationally understand that attempting to change my body, or start actively controlling my food or exercise is NOT the answer to any of my concerns today. But (or and, as I should say), I still have fleeting thoughts that these behaviours will.
I’m writing this blog post right now to remind myself of this ultimate truth: two things can be totally contradictory and still coexist equally as truths. Feelings are real, and valid, but they do NOT need to dictate our actions. We can feel the fear, believe it, and face it anyways.
Hopefully this reminder might render itself useful for you too.
What are some conflicting or contrasting beliefs that you hold? How might replacing that “but” with “and” alter your perception of how to navigate them? Often the right path is the hardest one to take.
Don’t sell yourself short by opting for the road that feels easiest in the moment, but ultimately never gets you to the place you wanted to get to in the first place.
Embrace the “and.” Do the hard thing. And in the moments where you fall victim to the contradiction, have the self-compassion and grace to pick yourself back up and carry on, because life is too short to live in debt to your own regrets anyways.
Love and light,
Jae
2022: A Year of Gains
2022 was a year I gained a lot. And I don’t just mean weight gains over the holidays. I am talking about the kind of mental, emotional, and yes, physical gains, that come when you open yourself to the opportunities that surround you.
This past year I have been gifted a lot of amazing experiences. I travelled (several times) to weddings, as well as a trip to Vegas.
I competed in my first pole competition for PSO Canada East.
I adopted a kitten who has become a well know adventure cat.
I got a permanent teaching position, raising me above the uncertainty of daily and long term occassional work, and into a new salary range.
I also made a new circle of friends within my Toronto neighbourhood, including neighbours in my building to share laughs and blunts and even keys with whenever we need a pet fed or walked.
And perhaps most noteably, I found a partner who is essentially the male version of myself, and who I love more than everything I love put together.
Truly, Ive had a lot of gains this year, as you can see. But it doesnt stop there. With all thuis happiness that has come my way, I also gained weight. I’m not going into numbers here, and I am not trying to make it seem as if I gained so much that I would be unrecognizeable on the street, but I will say certain clothes that fit me other Christmases would be a squeeze this year.
Sometimes I see a picture of myself or a video and feel a twinge of guilt that I’ve let my body go— even minimally. But the truth is, I really don’t think I could have had all the experiences and other life gains this year if I hadn’t.
This year, I truly commited myself to prioritizing connections and making memories over controlling my body. I made the choice to go out for drinks or to concerts and skip a workout. I made the choice to join in a group thai food order, or partake in a feast of indian food. I made the choice to ease up on my strict vegan tendencies and eat the muffin made with eggs, or try a bite of a a cheese stuffed ravioli.
I’m not saying that any of these things alone are the cause of a jump on a scale. I know friends and family members who enjoy all of the above on a regular basis, and their bodies stay pretty much the same. And I know continuing to be more relaxed around food, and joining in and sharing these meals and treats with others, I will not continue to gain weight for ever. Actually, I don’t think I’’ve really gained anything since I started writing this post a few weeks ago.
But even if I did, I wouldn’t regret it. The small, tight body that I had , particularly during my days of extreme restriction was a physical embodiment of my tight and rigid thinking. My life was about as full and voluptuous as my figure. In other words, the exact opposite. My days were calculated, measured, controlled.
And anything that threatened to disrupt that (such as a birthday dinner or night out) caused me anxiety and fear, instead of the excitement and revelry it should have.
Last January, I wrote a 2022 Manifesto for how I wanted to live my life. One of the things I wrote was “Memories over Calories.”
I’m so happy to say that I committed to that vision. And while it was not always easy or perfectly executed, I ended 2022 with more memories and moments of love and beauty and spontaneity than I could have imagined.
I’m hoping to gain even more in 2023. Here’s to making all the memories, joining in, and always prioritixing people and connection over numbers.
What are you hoping to gain this year?
Happy 2023,
-Jae
A Season of Redemption: A Christmas that undid the Shit of Christmases Past
This christmas was special, for a lot of reasons.
For many of us, it was the first christmas in a long time that we were not living in a pandemic state of panic.
We were able to gather with loved ones without masks or uncomfortable rules or restrictions, or anxiety of what we might be giving or receiving that would not be wrapped in a bow.
For our family, it was the revival of our annual big neighbourhood christmas party, where our house was filled with friends and neighbours from the age of 21 to 71, with a buffet of food as far as the eye could see.
After 3 years of not being able to host it, the atmosphere of the night was extra boisterous and beautiful, with people staying late into the night, or early into the morning, talking and laughing, playing pool, and dancing with a glow of an extra shot of whisky and christmas tree twinkle lights.
It wasnt only gathering that made this christmas so wonderful, but the particular people that entered my life this season.
Like the ginger-bearded man who sauntered up to a rain-drenched me at the end of a music festival on Canada Day.
Who would have guessed that would have led us to spending this whole christmas together, sharing our families and time in between Markham and Barrie, dancing around the kitchen in matching plaid pajamas…
To be spending Christmas with someone you love as fully and intensely as they love you is the greatest gift that I will never for a second take for granted.
Especially after several years of feeling an emptiness of spending the holidays without that.
I won’t lie, as much as I love christmas, the day, the season, and the feeling in general, the last few christmases I have felt like I’ve been chasing the idea of the feeling instead of being in it.
Between being in the throes of anorexia, the battles and emotional warfare of recovery, and navigating the end of relationship that I once thought was supposed to be forever, the “wonder and joy” of the season remained more of a fantasy than reality.
Even with that ex partner, I vividly remember spending one christmas afternoon sobbing into his arms in my bed after what was otherwise a perfect morning of opening presents, simply because I was overwhelmed with the feeling of guilt and anxiety of indulging in breakfast treats and then being caught and restricted from shovelling the driveway.
While I was further into recovery these past few holidays being single, the memories of being in love and celebrating christmas still permeated enough to dull the joy that was so present.
Of course, I still revelled in the love and company of friends and family I hadnt seen in a while, but I missed picking out that perfect present for that special someone, sneaking away to open each others gifts and read their heartfelt words away from the schmozz of the rest of the house.
Even not with them, I missed the feeling of Singing along with the christmas love songs that came on the radio, with them in mind, really and truly feeling the sentiment “all I want for christmas is you.”
For me, more than any other holiday, including the so vehemently loved or hated valentines day, christmas is about love.
And after the blessing of experiencing it with a partner for several years, the christmases that follow once that partnership ends, don’t hit the same.
They can be filled with family and festive joy and food and gifts, but the memory of that Christmas in love haunts it.
And thats what made this christmas so exceptionally beautiful. It wa a christmas that once again I was in love. And more than that, a first Christmas of the two of us in love together. A love that felt more right and real to me than it did the last time, with someone who I know truly loves every part of me- the wacky, the zany, the-handstands-in-the-kitchen-me—- and not just tolerates it.
I get to be unapologetically me, and celebrated for it.
This christmas I received some wonderful gifts and experienced some wonderful moments.
I was gifted a second Lupit pole and gorgeous Slovenian-made crash mat, a beautiful bullet journey and super quality fine art markers, and lulu leggings that have now become my second skin.
I went snowshoeing in the rouge valley and stumbled upon 3 deer, took pictures of my cat in a plaid matching hoodie, played obnoxious board games and took shots until the wee hours of the morning, and curled up in front of classic christmas movies.
But the most wonderful thing this Christmas was the little moments, the ones that likely no one else even noticed, even if they were there.
V coming up behind to me to wrap me in a hug as I was putting together our christmas dinner.
Twirling around the kitchen as if it was a ballroom even without music there, responding to V’s beckons of “Jae Bae Sunflower” as we were getting ready to head out to his parents’ christmas dinner.
Curling up under the sheets, talking until we fell asleep, whispering merry christmas as the clock struck 12 on Christmas eve.
These were the moments that made this Christmas, and redeemed it from everything it wasn’t in the years before it.
And of course, taking cute family photos with Rajah in matching PJs was a bonus.
Merry Christmas, everyone,
Love the ones you’re with-- and hold onto those memories, whether they are new or in the past of the christamses you spent in love.
There’s no better feeling,
See you in 2023,
Jae x0x0
Tis’ the Season (for being sick) — some musings about resting to return back to health
I feel like some kind of omniscient game is being played on me. Looking back on my bullet journal from last december, it turns out the very same day I came down with the covid last year, is the very same day —- December 13— that a whopper of a cold hit me this year.
For the past 3 days I’ve been coughing my lungs out, nursing a headache and a fever, and not able to do much other than sleep, eat, watch TV, and occassionally fiddle with my knitting.
Perhaps even more karmic, is that this cold hit me right after I was beginning to feel some of the inklings of my usual pre-holiday anxiety about being out of my routine, subject to more food and indugences, and less opportunities to exercise, and how that might wreak havoc on my body, and my mind. It was the fist weekend of several from now until post new years— of holiday parteis and events with family and friends, with all kinds of boozy drinks and full dessert platters and and rich hearty meals.
It was a fabulous weekend— the Friday I was at my partner’s work christmas party, where we stayed well past midnight before heading back to our hotel only to carry on the party at the bar, and then the room.
Waking up late the next day, we were just in time to pull ourselves together and make it out for my family’s big neighbourhood Chritsmas party that night, where there were even more food and drinks to be had.
Sunday, was our family’s celebration of St.Nicholas day, essentially a warm up to christmas with a table of plates being magically filled with all kinds of small treats and goodies over night. Its another lazy festive morning in pajamas, lovely and lots of fun, but once again, out of my usual food and movement routine and after a two previous days of festivities, it was starting to feel a little uncomfortable.
The nagging voice in my brain started to pipe up again. I was acutely aware of how many days- how may hours— it had been since I had gone for a long “enough” walk, done a quad draining bike ride to class, or had a training session for pole. I also found myself becoming more and more aware and anxious about my body, and how it was changing (if it was. Are my thighs closer to touching? Is my stomach bigger? My arms feel like they arer flabbier.
In reality, it had been 3 days— not long enough to make any drastic changes.
And when I did go back to doing 2 pole classes that following Monday, I felt as if my body was instantly back to the way I wanted it. Obviously, not because a coule pole classes have that kind of body sculpting power, but because I never really changed in the first place.
It was just my anorexic, compulsive brain kicking me in loud enough to believe it.
Yes, it felt good to move after that rather sedentary week. I felt like I could exhale, already planning and lookig forward to resuming my fairly active routine up until gouing head to head with christrmas.
But waking up on Tuesday with a bad chest cold and the chllls it became evident that wasnt quite the case. I had come down with the same virus that took out a number of people at a party we went to over the weekend.
I was laid up on the couch for three days. Too tired and full of phlegm to exercise or even pole— even if I wanted to.
The funny thing was, my anxiety didn’t skyrocket being sick and sedentary (again) like i expected it to. In the past, when I was severely disordered, ity would have been practically impossible for me to have layed on a couch for three days especially after a weekednd of food and festivities.
The only way I probably could ahve coped owuld have been by eating as little as I could possibly get away with, thinking my bdy relly didnt need it if I wasn’t being active. I remember sneaking in squats and jumping jacks and situps in my bedroom if I was sick for more than a single day, and even quietly lacing up my running shoes to sneak out for a run, despite a sore throat and chest cough.
It wasnt even because I wanted to. It’s because I needed to. The only thing that I was dreadinfg more than the cold air in my inflamed lungs in that moment was having to be lying down for another minute, my mind being attacked by pulsating anxiety and shame over “what I was letting happen” to my body .
Being sick this year in a way was like a breath of fresh air. For three days, I didnt sterp foot out of my house, or even my pajamas. Even after my fever broke and I was feeling a bit more energetic on the second day, I still prioritzed rest,, and enjoyed watching christmas movie after christmas movie, knititng and crafting and puzzling in the glow of the christmas tree lights. Yes, I still felt small tremors of guilt, for choosing this kind of routine even when I probably could have braved a walk around the block. But these were just ripples, not the tidal waves that used to overtake me.
I don’t know if the timing of this onslaught of sickness was pure;y coincidental, or if there was a greater universal intention behind it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. The universe, or God, or consciousness, or however you might phrase it, has a way of granting you something you need, whether you want it or not. Of course I didnt need to be sick. But I needed something to break me out of the anxcious and destructive throught patterns that I was beginning to fall into again. I needed to be reminded by something with some force, that rest is sometimes neccessary, and breaking routines on occasion is more than okay.
I was also reminded of how far I’ve come, being able to actually allow myself that rest. To be able to hole up on a couch alll day with christmas movies and crafts was something I secretly craved, and yet could neverallow myself to do.
The few times I tries to enjoy a movie midafternoon, I couldnt hear the TV over the blaring voices in my head screaming at me to get up, go for a run, you have to burn some calories to deserve this.
This year, coccooned in a blanket watching Netflix at noon on a wednesday, all was quiet. And it was bliss.
Merry Almost Christmas,
Don’t forget to rest and enjoy it,
—Jae xoxo
Exercise: Why More is Not Always Better (Lessons Learned from Sesamoiditis)
I am an active person. I love to walk run jump dance play do handstands and spin around poles. Ever since I was enrolled in toddler gymnastic classes, movement was in my blood. Being active throughout my life has blessed me with so much: Flipping around in acro and gymnastics classes gave me a sense of confidence and self-worth that didn’t come easy to me as a kid, and playing rep hockey for four years gifted me teammates that became like family. Running and yoga gave me an escape and a place to channel all the feelings that threatened to overwhelm me at times, and often still do.
In all these ways, movement has been a source a connection, therapy, and identity for me at various times of my life.
However, my relationship with movement and exercise has not been entirely positive.
For me, the biggest challenge I have with exercise is not motivation, or following through, or pushing myself . My problem is knowing when enough is enough, and when to ease off.
There is such thing as too much of a good thing— including exercise. Just because a walk a day is good, does NOT mean that more walks (or runs) a day is better. Just because a couple days of back-to-back training sessions makes me feel good doesn’t mean I never need a day off.
I tend to overdo things rather than under-do them. And this is the lesson I am learning right now, as I am icing my foot and resting it on the chair beside me as I write: sometimes, the best thing you can do for yourself is less.
Several years ago, when I had developed a highly restrictive mentality towards food, I developed a a similarly obsessive relationship with exercise.
Movement of all kinds became inundated in compulsion, stripped of all possible enjoyment and pleasure, and recalibrated as means of punishment, compensation, and control.
The “success” of any activity I did, from a gym workout to a walk was measured by how many calories it burned, how exhausted it made me, and how long I could endure it without taking rest. Running went from being an outlet to relieve my stress to the biggest source of stress and anxiety in my life. For a time, the only thing that felt worse than running was missing a run. I no longer had a choice.
However, since I had grown up being so active, and among a family of athletes and avid exercisers, the shift in my relationship to movement happened rather stealthily. People in my life were more concerned about my weight, and what I was eating rather than my exercise. However, looking back, I know that it was my mindset towards movement that was even more compulsive and rigid than my eating habits.
This was about 11 years ago, and as far as I have come in my relationship to exercise, I still struggle to find the balance at times.
These days I walk much more than I run, and really only do activities I enjoy like dance, pole, and yoga. And still somehow, I can overdo it.
This week I woke up with a swollen, bruised and throbbing foot— specifically the ball of my big toe. Getting out of bed, I quickly realized I couldn’t bear weight on it.
“What the hell?” At first, I had no idea what was wrong. My foot had felt perfectly fine the day before. So fine, in fact that I had gone for a 7 km walk, and did a barre class, a pole class, and a conditioning class. Not to mention a whole lot of snow shoeing and trekking through snowy cottage roads over the weekend.
Okay, maybe I was overdoing it, just a bit.
Several ice packs, one podiatry appointment, and a few x-rays later, I had a name for my extraordinarily swollen foot: sesamoiditis.
Apparently Sesamoiditis is an injury very commonly had by dancers and runners to the two sesamoid bones that make up the joint of the big toe. And while I am not a runner or a dancer, I do enough activities that put pressure on the balls of my feet that I have landed myself with this less-than-glamorous injury.
The prognosis? With proper rest and treatment, my lil’ sesamoids should make a full recovery.
The treatment? At least three weeks of no weight bearing. Meaning I am in a walking cast and to walk as little as possible and do everything I can to avoid weight on the ball of my big toe.
“And how’s that going?” You might be wondering, for someone whose innate love of movement still flirts with obsession?
Well, considering I have been getting outside for at least an hour walk and a pole class everyday during this lockdown (and often multiple of both) I’ve been doing pretty okay.
Day by day, it is actually rather nice to have that space in my day and my routine, and not trying to fit things in around a class or a walk before it gets dark or the weather turns.
However, its thinking about how this will play out for the coming weeks (and slow rehab back to my normal levels of activity after) that send me into a bit of an anxious tailspin.
In my bouts of anxiety, I turn to google, and find articles like “how to keep your fitness while injured” and “what not exercising does to your body.” And then I feel guilty for for doing essentially nothing but rest.
But this seemingly “bad break” (pun intended) is once again, the universe giving me what I need… even though I do not want to need it.
With little else to demand my attention during this lockdown, I’ve been spending many hours of my day doing - and thinking— exercise.
My walks of twenty minutes during my lunch break crept up to an hour. A couple classes a week became a couple classes a day. And as much as I was enjoying the movement, there was also a feeling of “should” beginning to creep in with the more I did. Slowly, walking anything less than an hour was unacceptable. One class a day became the bare minimum— and an intensive conditioning session beforehand to “warmup” was no longer optional.
The standard for my daily movement had been hiked up, and every day I had to jump a little higher to clear it.
Something had to give— and the universe chose the sesamoid bones in my right foot.
Rather than having a pity-party for myself, I am using this as an opportunity to continue to strengthen my recovery, and redefine my mentality to movement once again.
I am leaning in to my fear of not exercising to prove to my body and my brain that a couple weeks without so much as a few measly steps a day will not break me.
I might lose a little strength, perhaps even put on a couple pounds and get a little softer around the edges, but I have to trust that when I do resume some activity again, my body will return to its happy place.
…
“So why not just eat less?”
That thought crossed my mind too. But after years of restriction, I’ve caught on to what happens when you start fighting your body and hunger cues. it only makes us more fixated and focused on what we are denying ourselves.
And I also know that in order to heal an injury, our bodies require extra energy in order to regenerate and repair tissues. Not fuelling it with the appropriate energy and protein will only cause it to take those nutrients from my muscles, and prolong the recovery process.
So I fight the occasional waves of guilt about not having “earned” my food, and I am continuing to eat as I usually do: including lots of popcorn and pancakes, and all the peanut butter.
And you know what? It’s not even that scary. Not only is this stress fracture an opportunity for me to strengthen my recovery, but it has also allowed me to recognize just how far I have come. Even two years ago, when I severed the tendon of my big toe (on the same foot!), spending the subsequent month in a walking boot caused me much more guilt and anxiety than I am feeling now.
But perhaps that’s just it- I had to go trough a period of time without movement to realize that the anxiety and stress I was feeling is NOT necessary. I will be back on my feet soon enough, and the minimal changes that take place in my body are just that— minimal.
So here’s to “feet-up February.” I will be using the next few weeks to write more, read more, finally finish the pair of leg warmers I started knitting an embarrassingly long time ago, and continue eating all the foodz.
My pole, and all my other favourite forms of movement will be waiting for me whenever my foot is healed and ready—
—and even better, my mindset a little more free and little more flexible.
As the saying goes, “absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
After a few weeks away from movement, I am looking forward to the first walk I take outside in the snow and the first spin around the pole I get to do first dance I do with a healed foot and a healthy mind.
I am always learning, testing my limits, and overstepping boundaries. As long as I continue to recognize what is too much and when to back off, I will continue to experiment with what I am capable of, what is sustainable, and where I can challenge myself to lean in to discomfort— including taking time off to regroup and refresh, and rest when I need it.
May this be a gentle reminder to anyone who needs it that our bodies are NOT machines or calculators. It. is. okay. to move a little less or a little more one day or one week or one month.
Every athlete has an off season, a time of little training and lots of rest. Mentally or physically, you might find yourself in need of some time off what ever kind of movement you usually do. Embrace it, enjoy it, and keep the big picture in mind.
Five years from now, the hiatus of time in which you were “out of routine” will NOT matter. You might not even remember it.
So stop wasting time worrying about what you cannot change, and embrace the challenge of leaning in to whatever life throws at you— chances are you will come out of it stronger, more resilient, and more content to face the next hurdle in your path.
Oh, and happy love day, celebrating all kinds of love, and loveliness.
xxoo
Jordan
The Fear of Being “Ordinary” (and why being average is perfectly enough)
“Shoot for the moon. For even if you fail, you will still land among the stars.”
This was the poster that greeted me on my first day in my Grade 4 classroom. It was hung by my kind and enthusiastic teacher, who wanted nothing more than to inspire and motivate her students to live up to their potential; the message essentially being to do better, we must aim for nothing less than the best.
As innocent this message may seem, it stems from a “never enough” mentality that is destructively pervasive in our culture. A mentality that being ordinary is not enough, and that in order to be “good” we must be special.
We must do whatever it takes to be extraordinary.
Throughout our lives, many of us have fallen victim to this mentality of self-deciprecation. We learn to view '“average,” “normal,” and “ordinary” as lacking. We fear that falling into the category of “average” is settling for a lesser identity, or accepting a loss of power.
When we hear the word “ordinary,” it is loaded with negative connotations of monotony, or boredom, or the mundane. When at is essence, ordinary is a very neutral term— and who is to say, not a positive one?
For a long time, I considered being “ordinary” a failure to live up to my potential.
And its a shame (and quite f***ed up really) to walk around carrying this fear of ordinary. Ordinary is synonymous with average. And average quite literally means “the norm”-- the category most people and endeavours fall into (duh).
By rebuking and fighting anything that falls in this category of average- whether it be our average job, average body, average grade, or average skill or ability at a sport or art or hobby- you are ultimately leaving yourself with very little chance to be happy.
This pursuit of the extraordinary is NOT something for which we can really blame ourselves. It is something that is pervasive in our society, birthed in the same seeds that planted the American Dream, and the unquenchable thirst for “more” and “better” that consumes and drives our modern lives.
Its these seeds planted in you with the best intentions and love when you were little, with parents and loving adults promising you that “you can be whatever you want to be,” and that “no dream is too big.”
You take one dance class and they assure you that you were on your way to become a prima ballerina. You take a liking to your family dog and they start setting aside a fund for vet school. You sing and you dance and you are told you can grow up to be a famous performer, that all you have to do is “try,” and to “believe in yourself.”
Unfortunately, the biggest dreams often require much more than that.
I grew up with these messages. And I never questioned it, or even thought it strange. Still today, I will find myself making the same grandiose statements to the kids that I teach: “Oh wow, percy, look at that beautiful drawing! You are going to have a painting in a gallery one day!” and Aliza, you can be an olympic gymnast!”
Of course, encouraging kids to try hard and “dream big” is important to build their sense of worth and self-confidence. But what about when they are 18, and not admitted to art school? Or 25 and they only job they can get is some entry level accounting work, far from the “pursue your passion” speech they had been spoon-fed ever since they were being spoon-fed?
And who knows, maybe Aliza will be an olympic gymnast, and Percy a famous artist. But chances are, they will not. But that does NOT mean they will not find happy, meaningful, and rewarding lives.
The truth is, the majority of people in our society are working average jobs, making average wages, in so called “ordinary” fields or professions. I am sure Karen did NOT dream of growing up to be a retail manager for a tile company. And while these kinds of jobs are likely NOT anyone’s true passion or life calling, they are doing work integral to the functioning of our society.
And who is to say that people that are working these mediocre or average jobs, are living lives that are any less fulfilling or meaningful or joyful, than someone working in a so-called “noble” profession.
For myself, this fixation on the extraordinary kept me in a long season of tire spinning— wanting to do everything, but nothing seemed enough. I was rooted to the spot, unable to take a step in any direction afraid of stumbling into a career that was anything less than my “calling.”
I did not want to settle for anything less than the glamorous dreams I had birthed unto me as a kid. Respectively, I dreamed I would grow up to become a vet, a gymnast, an olympic snowboarder, a best-selling author, a broadway star, a professional horseback rider/trainer. and a plant-based chef/food blogger.
Notice what each of these dreams have in common: the element of fame, and of top-tierdom, of being the best.
It wasn’t even so much as choosing which of these paths to purse that caused me so much angst, but the very true possibility that whatever I did, that I would not be able to do well enough to achieve the level of fame or recognition that I so valued. I wanted my name to be known, whatever I did. I wanted to turn heads when I walked into a room. I wanted to be anything but ordinary. Because to be ordinary, to have an average, unknown existence, felt worse than failure.
This has been a big obstacle for me in recovery too. Contrary to widespread perceptions of eating disorders, I never saw myself as fat, or even overweight. I never considered myself to be ugly. Even when I was in the depths of ED, avoiding mirrors and hiding from my appearance, I still innately understood that on the spectrum of ugly to beautiful, or fat to thin, that in both categories I was at least “average.”
But that didn’t stop me from feeling loathing towards my body. I did not want to be average. I wanted to be thin, uniquely so. I wanted bones. And then I wanted to be the fittest. I wanted washboard abs and veiny arms, and rock hard limbs. I wanted to turn heads. And in that pursuit of extraordinary, I spent years iron-fisting my body to be my masterpiece.
If I were to get all psychological about it now, I could say that all the fear and uncertainty and pressure I was feeling about what I would do with my life, I channeled into my feelings about my body.
As cliche as it is true, the lack of control and powerless I felt over the greater meaning of my existence, was compensated by exerting control where I could— controlling my food, and my body. But this is tangential, so I will leave this for another post.
In essence, an “average body” was something I dreaded and feared. Even being told that I was approaching a “normal” weight, I felt like a failure.
I felt like I was sliding down the rungs of a ladder I had given years of my life and all of my strength to climb. I was letting myself go, and slipping back into the throes of mediocrity.
I felt silly, and narcissistic, admitting to this realization, but it was truly how it felt. Allowing myself to settle at an “average” weight really did feel like I was giving up.
This is not unique thinking. I am NOT the one lone human who feels dissatisfied with a perfectly good and “normal” body. Countless studies have reported a surprising percentage of the population, all genders and ages (although especially young women) suffer from negative body image, and desire to change or “fix” their appearance.
Once again, we can thank the glamorized body ideals that pervade our society. With every photoshopped, face-tuned, airbrushed image posted to a feed, what is extraordinary is presented as a standard to which we perpetually struggle to live up to.
There was lots bundled into the pile of kindling that ignited my eating disorder, but a significant piece was the unattainable ideal of what I should (could) look like -- I just needed to try.
It takes a lot of work, a lot of time, and a lot of therapy to rewire the belief that the extraordinary is achievable simply through try. And even more to come to accept the ordinary, the normal, the “what is” as just as worthy and meaningful.
I am now in a very average position in my life; I am paying an average rent, living in a perfectly average house, working a very average, but rewarding job as a teacher; I am at an average weight, in an ordinary body, that is beautifully healthy and functioning. I bake sourdough bread that is far from perfect, but tasty. I take pole classes with fellow students and instructors that keep me humble about how much I still have to learn. And I love every minute of it.
I am coming to realize that the worst part of being “ordinary” is holding on to the belief that you shouldn’t be.
As soon as you can let that go, and embrace what is for exactly how it is, happiness and meaning and purpose just start pooling at your feet, as if a hose has just been unkinked and freed to flow.
There is a fine line between self-acceptance and self-improvement. I may never be a vet or an olympic snowboarder or a broadway singer. I will never look like a Victoria secret angel, or be 5’8 with long legs and a short torso.
But I can be perfectly happy and fulfilled working towards being the best version of average me, teaching and writing and riding and snowboarding for the joy of it, laughing over my mistakes and failures, and making connections with other people who are equally as human-- NOT allowing my insecurities and shame to isolate me.
This is self-acceptance. To be okay and happy exactly as you are, and where you are, grateful for you in all its ordinary excellence.
And once you do that, you might start to notice where meaning and happiness truly reside— and be free from the unattainable ideals of perfection.
Finding Gratitude this 2020 (Reflecting on a Covid Thanksgiving)
2020 has been a weird, difficult year. And so it makes sense that this past Thanksgiving has followed suit.
In these strange, difficult times of mask-wearing and toilet-paper shortages and hellish political circuses, gratitude may feel hard to come by. Especially for people that may not be able to gather together with the people they normally see, or do the activities or cooking ventures that may be usual traditions of this holiday.
However, gratitude, and feeling of feeling genuine thankfulness and contentment is NOT directly correlated to what is happening around us.
Gratitude is something that exists intrinsically within us, conjured by the way we choose to think and respond to whatever it is that may happening.
In this post, I hope to shed some light on some of the less obvious reasons I feel extremely blessed this season, despite many things being far from perfect at this moment. From missing people at our thanksgiving table, to a chaotic return to the classroom, and to bumps and blocks in my recovery, 2020 has been A YEAR.
However, just like the darkest of clouds, it is from these very circumstances that I have found reasons to feel grateful. For all I have, all I’ve done, and for all the future holds.
Starting off with this AMAZING tofu turkey. Usually love to cook one myself, but due to covid, we purchased one instead. Turns out I feel pretty grateful to have spent less time in the kitchen this Thanksgiving too.
Thanksgiving 2020— The Silver Linings
Tofurkey from Green Earth Cafe on the Danforth— and Jaeda looking at it enviously.
This Thanksgiving. I was lucky enough that I was able to come home to spend the weekend with my family. I was lucky I had the foresight to book a covid test weeks earlier, and was fortunate enough to receive my results the Friday evening before coming home.
I am also blessed that the school where I have been working has had zero cases since opening, and every one of my students who have been away with symptoms have come back with confirmed negative results.
I am also extremely lucky that my family has been doing their part to isolate and social distance so that it would be safe for me to come home, and also safe for me to return back downtown to my roommates and to my students.
Apple Crumble Pie
That being said, coming home wasn’t the same as it usually is for thanksgiving. We were not preparing a dinner for aunts and uncles and grandparents and cousins, setting the table for up to twenty.
This year it was just immediate family, my brothers’ partner and my aunt with whom we have been longtime been podded up.
We wore masks as we served ourselves, two people at a time, and ate our meal outside, making use of space heaters and blankets.
I also did none of the cooking this year, being potentially the biggest risk at our gathering. I made a couple pies when the kitchen was empty, but the rest of the meal was quite literally out of my hands.,
Pumpkin Pie Oh My Oh My
In these moments, I realize how where I am now is very different from where I was several years ago. There was a time that I was so terrified of giving up control over my food I would have fought tooth and nail to prepare every bit of that dinner that I was going to eat, from the way the squash to the salad dressing to how the bread was sliced (diagonally). Back then, to be essentially locked out of the kitchen for the entire day of preparation would have been torturous.
This thanksgiving, while I did miss cooking, and the ritual of bumping elbows with my family in the process, it was not charged with underlying fear or anxiety. For the most part— I still hoped that the brussel sprouts would be tossed with garlic and lemon, and that the squash spiced with coriander and cardamom, but I still knew that regardless of how it was prepared, I could eat it and enjoy it.
I will NOT pretend that my eating disorder was a distant memory this Thanksgiving. There is something about holidays that still brings out some of the habits and thought patterns that I have been so long trying to rewire.
It’s being surrounded by so much food, at a holiday where everything is so centered around food, and that food being the kind that I was for so long terrified to eat, that I still find myself being a little more on edge than I would typically be.
I still ate and joined in and had a great time with my family. I ate more than sat comfortably, and still somehow made room for dessert. But that fullness also triggered the all too familiar guilt and anxiety I used to feel every time I ate back in my disorder.
I had thoughts leading up to dinner that I needed to exercise before I could eat. I had thoughts afterwards that I would need to restrict the next day and go for a run in the morning, even though I have NOT gone for a morning run in close to a year.
The difference was that I had the thoughts, but that is largely all they were. Thoughts. Because along with these old thoughts, I had new ones.
Thoughts that this was thanksgiving, and its pretty freakin’ normal to eat more than usual. That this was one meal, one weekend, and I care more about being present with my family than working off the calories in a glass of wine.
Thanksgiving Sunday hike in Milne Conservation Area
And that kept me at the table, curled under blankets nursing a food baby under echoes of laughter instead of dashing out for a walk the moment dessert was served.
And no, I didn’t go for a run the next morning. I lazed around, drinking coffee until I eventually felt ready to eat again, and then went for a lovely, leisurely walk amid some beautiful fall foliage with my mother.
After years of thinking in black and white, right or wrong, good or bad, yes or no, I am learning the nuances of the in-between. I am striving for balance.
No, this weekend was NOT perfect. Not in how Covid interrupted our regularly scheduled programming, nor in my recovery. But it was a perfectly good weekend.
It showed me the places I’ve been, the ways in which I have grown, and the areas where I still have a little more work to do. And for all that, I am beyond grateful.
Beautiful way to spend Thanksgiving Sunday. No running required.
Things I am Grateful For Right Here, Right Now:
For my family being healthy and together
For the roommates that have made our house feel like a home, both new and old
For local vegan restaurants that make excellent tofurkey
For returning to my pole studio even if it was just for a few short weeks
For having a class of thirty kindergarteners who can all put a smile on my face
For every negative covid test that has come back at my school
For adult colouring books
For second dates
For the big little bit of nature in my city backyard
For the patience of my family and putting up with me at every phase and stage of my recovery
For crisp red leaves and blue october skies
For crunchy honey crisp apples and pumpkin spice oatmeal
In this week after Thanksgiving, what are you grateful for? How has this year challenged you? And how have you grown because of it?
Grateful for all of you reading this right now<3
-Jordan xox
The Parent Trap: The Challenges of Quarantining Back at Home (as an adult).
During this pandemic I have been quarantining with my family at my parents’ house in the suburbs for the past six weeks. While I am grateful to be with family during this time, and not being completely isolated, it brews a whole other pot of challenges. The last time we were all living together under one roof for a substantial period of time was over five years ago, while we “kids” were all still in school. With each of us having spent a couple years out of the nest and in our own independent routines, now coming back together around the dinner table, sharing bathrooms, and claiming work space has caused some tension to say the least. More than that, is the added challenge of dealing with some of my own emotional shit that seems to have resurfaced with coming back to my childhood home.
finding a quiet workspace while quarantining in a house of people is challenging.And I know that I am not the only one. Our family, and our homes, can be a place we feel comfortable. But there is a fine line between “comfortable” and “comfort zone.” Right now, many of us are being tested by our living situations, with repercussions both on our own personal well-being, as well as on our relationships.
So let’s begin by digging in to some of the greatest challenges I’ve been facing since being back home.
Challenges about Quarantining at Home with Family:
Food disappears. Those leftovers you put away last night, thinking they would be a great lunch the next day? Well unless you’re getting up to eat them at 7 am, they’re gone.
Constant dishes. Before coming back to this house, my roommates and I used to run our dishwasher once every one or two days. There was never a pile up of dishes because we always did our own. Now, with six adult appetites in the house and family meals, our dishwasher is going at least twice a day… and still there is a pileup in the sink.
Staking out workspace. Everyone here is either working or studying from home right now, or both. We have a big house with multiple rooms. And yet still it seems there is a constant musical chairs of who is working where based on where the best light is, if there’s people making noise in other parts of the house, or if the wifis acting up. Which bring me to the next point…
Wifi hogging. Despite countless calls to our provider, our wifi always seems to be a little finicky, even before all of us were home. These days with six of us on multiple devices, we’re finding that we need to reset the router multiple times a day. It turns out we are all enslaved to internet in isolation: whether it be working on the computer, scrolling social media, on zoom chats, watching netflix, or playing online Catan, it seems there is never a time we are NOT connected.
Falling back into old patterns. This is the largest challenge of all, and the most difficult to overcome. What these old patterns or habits are will very from person to person. For my mother, it is feeling like she is responsible for feeding and cleaning up for everyone as if we were still young kids, and not full grown adults perfectly capable of feeding and caring for ourselves. For us “kids”, it is often reverting back into that role, and not pulling the same weight around the house as we were when living independently.
“Old Habits Die Hard”- Environmental Triggers and Wired Thought Patterns
Old patterns aren’t just in relation to family roles, but may also resurface as old neural pathways light up again, triggered by a return to a familiar environment. The first week I was back home I started to fall into some old unhealthy habits that used to define my days when I was living at home full time, and very much in the thick of an eating disorder. But after a few days of skipping lunch, and going a little overboard on exercise, and feeling totally unbalanced (and like mental shit), I recognized what was happening and committed myself to a more sustainable routine. It took me by surprise, because many of those thoughts and behaviours never crossed my mind living downtown. It was something about being back in the place where I was engaging in those patterns that caused them to resurface. However, the most significant change was simply awareness. Recognizing what I was doing as being counterproductive and not in line with the person I wanted to be.
Being back in your childhood home can often bring back old patterns of behaviours- some not so healthyFor you, it could be other kinds of thoughts or behaviours that are resurfacing. Maybe you are finding yourself less patient or picking fights or more critical of the people you are living with. Maybe you are finding that your room or workspace is getting more cluttered or messy, looking more like it may have when you were living in it as a teenager. Or maybe you are finding yourself sleeping in late into the morning (or afternoon) and staying up much too late without doing anything very productive.
Whatever your old habits may be, if you find them resurfacing during this time, don’t beat yourself up over it. Understand WHY it is happening, and commit yourself to rewire those neural pathways.
Have self-compassion, but don’t let your brain pull one over on you either. Make the changes, little or big, that you need to, in order to keep in line with the person you want to be.
For me, that meant making myself a schedule that had me eating breakfast within an hour of waking up each day, and then eating something every three hours to keep my brain from reverting back to that feast or famine mentality that I was operating in for most of my eating disorder. It also meant not doing the same exercise, varying the kinds and amounts, each day, so none became compulsive. Several weeks in, it still means deliberately choosing to walk LESS than the day before, or do a restorative flow instead of a core class, just to remind my brain that we aint doing that exercise obsession thing anymore.
Making little changes in your daily routine can make a big difference in your mental health So, think about your habits:
What habits are you happy with?
How might you be thinking or behaving that is NOT in line with the person that you want to be?
What tangible steps can you take to change those thoughts or behaviours?
I am NOT talking about drastic lifestyle changes. If you want to change sleeping in till noon and watching netflix til 3, Try setting your alarm for 10. Schedule a zoom call or a social distance walk with a friend for 11. The next week, set your alarm for 9. And so on.
You are the master of your mind, and in turn, you are the master of your actions. This time in isolation is by no means easy, whether you are isolating on your own or with family.
You have two options: (1) You can either just cope, ride out the quarantine with your eyes closed until its over. Or (2), you can use this place of discomfort to grow, to strengthen your character, enhance your self-awareness, and build your resilience.
And if you commit to that overall big picture of who you want to be, how you want your relationships to be, once this is all over, you will come out of this a stronger, happier person than you were going in.
Stay healthy, friends,
Jordan
Xoxo
The Quarantine Fifteen Part II: MythBusting
**This post is about diet culture. If you are a person with a very healthy relationship with exercise, and don’t think too much about what you eat, this post may not interest you. Good on you- keep doing you and check back for my next post.
If you ARE interested in learning to navigate the messages about health and fitness bouncing around the web like a beach ball at a Nickelback concert, keep reading.**
With gyms closed, and many people working at home in close proximity to refrigerators, gaining weight during this social quarantine is becoming a prevalent concern. As I discussed in my last post, this idea of the “quarantine-fifteen” is perpetuating some fitness and weight loss propaganda from which companies in the health and fitness industry are profiting.
I am NOT writing this post because I have some sort of personal vendetta against any of these companies or individuals. I love being active, and feeling healthy and strong in my body. But coming from a decade long struggle with anorexia, I know how harmful some of these messages can be when taken a bit too seriously. Especially when many of these weight loss “hacks” really work the opposite way they were intended.
During my recovery, I devoured (pun not intended) countless studies, articles, podcasts, and other research regarding bodyweight, metabolism and exercise, desperate to understand what exactly I had to do to be healthy- mentally and physically. There’s a lot of conflicting information out there. However, a constant throughout was that extreme diets or “lifestyles” do not work long-term.
For every study that there is saying why one food is the the key to eternal youth (ie. coconut oil), there is another claiming it to be the devil (ie. coconut oil). I am no expert. I can’t tell you the best way to eat or exercise or “be healthy.” This is because there is not one best way. There is only the best way for you.
For the past couple years, I have committed myself to eating unrestricted, relearning what it means to eat intuitively, and rebuilding a new relationship with exercise. I still have some rewiring left to do, but my mindset towards food and exercise is much healthier and infinitely less consuming than it has been.
We live in a diet culture. Its only when I actively forced myself to step outside of it that I could truly see some of the bulls*** that is being conveyed as “healthy living.”
So let’s get down to it and dispel some myths about weight gain and the “quarantine fifteen.”
Myth-Busting: Weight-Loss Edition
Dieting will make you lose weight
In the short term, yes. Eating in a caloric deficit will make you lose weight. A lot of it water and muscle, but the scale will go down. HOWEVER, within a few months, or even weeks, depending on how much you restrict your intake, evolutionary biology will kick in. Your body will feel the threat of famine, and will fight every way it can to make up the energy it is not getting. This may mean slowing down metabolism, increasing hunger hormones, and signaling your brain to obsess over food in a way you never did before you started dieting. You will likely find yourself more prone to cravings, overeating, and even bingeing. Whether its restricting certain food groups, eating “cleaner”, or simply cutting calories, making certain foods (or amounts of foods) “off-limits” will only make them even more tempting and irresistible.
Intermittent fasting is the best way to diet without being on a diet.
If you are a person that tends to be less hungry waking up in the morning, there’s nothing wrong in waiting a few hours upon waking before breaking the fast. However, if you are overriding your body’s innate hunger cues in favour of the time on a clock, and not eating until your stomach is eating itself (or you have been hungry for so long, the hunger is passed) you are not doing yourself any favours. As mentioned above, overriding your body’s innate hunger may cause your brain to adopt a “feast or famine” mentality, making you over-fixate on food. This makes it much harder to tune into your body’s intuitive cues, and to stop before all the cookies are gone.
Intermittent fasting can also wreak havoc on your hormones, especially if you are female. Chronic low blood sugar in the morning can cause a spike in cortisol, a stress hormone that can inhibit the production of estrogen and other important reproductive hormones. In my eating disorder I was “intermittent fasting” before it was even a thing, and I did not have a monthly cycle for over eight years (If that’s TMI, sorry, but not sorry. … I’ll talk more about my experience with Hypothalamic Amenhorrea in another post).
High intensity workouts are the key to weight loss.
Some studies have shown a minimal increase in metabolic rate following sessions of intensive exercise or HIIT workouts. However, the lingering caloric burn for several hours afterwards is minimal. A 45 minute cardio burn session is not a free pass to all the donuts you can eat for the rest of the day. Especially when that exercise intensity could be wreaking havoc with your hormones and hunger cues. High-intensity workouts or excessive cardio can cause a huge spike in cortisol just the way intermittent fasting can, as well as raise levels of the hormones that regulate your hunger and appetite. This makes many people ravenous throughout the day, and prone to eating more than feels good.
Before you come at me, I am NOT saying that it’s never a good idea to work hard in your workouts. Some people can incorporate some HIIT training in their week quite healthily. But if you are feeling a little run down or over-hungry or have any symptoms of hormonal imbalance, you may want to think about the type of exercise you are doing.
Not exercising = gaining weight.
This all depends on your set point weight, and if you are using exercise as a way to hold your body at a weight below where it is optimally healthy. If you are at a weight where your body is optimally healthy and happy, and you aren’t following any kind of rules or lifestyle to maintain, working out less for a month or two really won’t make any noticeable changes to your body. However, If you are holding your body below its natural set point or happy place, through diet or exercise, and you decrease the amount of activity that you are doing, regardless of what you are eating, your weight may start to creep upwards. This is your body gravitating to its set point, the weight that only your body gets to decide is its optimal healthy place.
The beautiful thing about being at your set point is that even a few weeks or months without exercise, and eating a normal, unrestricted diet, is that you will NOT gain weight. Your body will keep you within a ~few pounds of that comfortable weight, and will raise or lower metabolism accordingly to adjust to your energy intake and output.
** I didn’t go into much detail about these things, because I’m sure many of you already have a pretty healthy and balanced mindset when it comes to these things. But if you are interested in a little more of the science and expertise backing these concepts, I’ll leave some links at the bottom of this post. **
It’s Not About Changing your Body. It’s Changing your Mindset.
Essentially, adopting a “diet mentality” and over-fixating on food or exercise is NOT how to escape the “quarantine-fifteen.”
And again, even if you do lose some muscle or put on a few pounds, who really cares? Your body is just trying to cope with the new stresses and threats in our external environment, (ie. global pandemic). It is healthy and normal to go through periods of rest and recovery. From animals preparing for winter, to athletes detraining or moving into off season, it's okay to not be in peak athletic form year round, and for bodies to change.
This guy’s got the right idea.
Nourish yourself with lots of sleep, good food, and self-compassion. Remember that health encompasses more than your physical body. Take care of your mind, your spirit and your soul (Pro-tip: Chocolate keeps the dementors away).
Let me know in the comments if you want more posts about these kinds of things. I will probably post more about my experience in the future. If there’s anything in particular you want to know more about, fire away. I could probably write a book or two (or a hundred) about anything food, fitness, or recovery related…
In the meantime, stay tuned for some more procrasti-baking recipes and isolation inspiration coming down the pipe shortly!
(social distance) Hugs,
Jordan
More on Set Point Theory and Diets
https://www.healthline.com/health/set-point-theory#body-weight-set-point
https://www.floliving.com/intermittent-fasting/
https://tabithafarrar.com/2020/04/you-were-never-supposed-to-be-micro-managing-your-food-intake/
https://fitonapp.com/fitness/the-truth-behind-why-your-hiit-workouts-may-not-be-working/
https://www.thereallife-rd.com/2017/05/finding-healthy-set-point/
The “Quarantine Fifteen”— Gaining Weight during Isolation
If you have been on any form of social media these past couple weeks, you may have come across one of the countless posts, memes, or tweets about gaining the covid-nineteen, or the quarantine-fifteen. Essentially, these puns stem from the idea that staying home is making us fat.
Some of these posts are pure humour, outrageous memes of people “before” quarantine and “after.” Maybe they are a little crude, but harmless, and provide a good chuckle.
Other posts take this quarantine fifteen a bit more seriously. Many influencers, fitness studios, and other health or wellness companies are perpetuating this fear of the “quarantine fifteen” to get us to subscribe to things like at-home sculpt workouts, HIIT classes, or virtual spin subscriptions. My feed is filled with posts and videos entitled “What I eat in Isolation to not gain weight” or “Quarantine Exercise Regime.”
These individuals provide us with “health hacks”, from morning green smoothies, to water fasts, to DIY basement gyms, oh so benevolently saving us from our gluttonous, lazy selves, who would undoubtedly be lying on the couch on our third bag of chips had we not been gifted with the details of their regime.
a screenshot of a few of the hundreds of videos on youtube about staying “healthy” while in isolation
Don’t get me wrong. Eating healthy is important, and working out is great for your mind and body. I’ve been doing tons of yoga and pilates and other classes with some of my favourite instructors during this isolation period, and the sense of community and connection I get from these sessions is invaluable.
HOWEVER, the problem I have with this new rise of at-home fitness and clean eating regimes is how it is often being marketed as the antidote to not gaining weight-- and implying the loss of fitness while we are at home to be shameful.
A couple things. First, we are in the midst of a global pandemic. I won’t get too morbid here, as the media is already doing a fabulous job of keeping us up with the rising death tolls across the world each day, but in a nutshell, the disease is spreading. People are sick, and people are dying. People are dying alone, and families are grieving loved ones without being able to come together to support each other. Hospitals are running out of supplies, and there are not enough ventilators to support all the cases that come to hospital that could recover otherwise. We are all at risk. Even going to the grocery store endangers ourselves and our families.
Many of us are also facing other challenges, such as losing income, being unable to pay rent and other bills, or being catapulted into new roles of homeschool teacher and/or caregiver. Not to mention, the tremendous toll on our own mental and emotional wellbeing during this scary time.
Second, pandemic aside, is gaining weight or losing fitness really that terrible? Putting on a few extra pounds or not making any new PRs over the next few months should not be a moral sin.
The people who love you, who want you to be safe and healthy during this pandemic do not care if you can fit into your tightest pair of jeans right now. Let’s be honest, who’s actually wearing real pants these days? Your dog doesn’t care about your quad development. Your zoom chats or face-times with your friends will not be any more fun or meaningful if you ran 10 kilometres beforehand, or you are following a keto diet religiously.
Yes, staying healthy is important. Sleep is important. Eating a good and balanced diet is important. Moving your body in a way that feels good, that serves you mentally and physically, is important. None of that has to do with weight.
During this time, you need to do whatever is healthy, mentally and physically, for you.
Just because Karen manages her mental health by running 25 kilometers every morning, refueling with a smoothie bowl, and doing back to back Zoom HIIT classes everyday, does not mean you can’t eat the cookies your sister baked.
Meet yourself where you are at. Get some fresh air, (while being safe and social distancing), move your body in a way that feels good, for however long or short you have. Watch your favourite Netflix shows (Schitt’s Creek is my latest obsession), read that book (Harry Potter- any one) that’s been sitting on your nightstand for a year and a half, start that craft or hobby that you’ve been threatening to do when things “calm down”, or bake some bread (or cinnamon buns!), because God knows you have the time to wait for yeast to rise right now,
Doing a lot of knitting these days and not mad about it.
The worst thing that might happen is you put on a couple pounds. Its not like you are training for the olympics. And even if you are, you’ve got at least a whole year to get back in competing form for when the olympics have been rescheduled in 2021.
Health is not the same as fitness. Health is not gaining or losing weight. As long as you are nourishing your mind, your body, and your emotional well-being during this isolation, the “quarantine-fifteen'“ got nothing on you.
Stay healthy, friends,
xoxo
-Jordan