Happy New Year (ish)

Another year has come and like always, I am late to welcoming it. This is why I am thankful I have five opportunities for a new start throughout the year, because I always seem to mess up the first one.

The first is obvious, it’s January 1st. The beginning of a new dawn, a new day. New Years signifies a clean slate where you can grow and become this ideal version of yourself. Everyone has resolutions that fit into a perfect life, but the reality is that this aspirations fade away by February. I think it’s because we put too much pressure onto January. We hold ourselves to a higher standard than we ever have before and are surprised when we are unable to meet that bar. January always feels like a disappointment to me. I try to reinvent my entire being in 31 days and I always fall short of longevity.

The second is my favorite, the Lunar New Year. My family and I follow most of the same Chinese traditions on both New Years, but Lunar New Year holds more meaning to me. It’s not just the red envelopes filled with cash that make it my favorite, but because it isn’t about changing myself to be perfect, instead it is about welcoming a new year that is filled with prosperity and good things. It’s about family and togetherness, health and well-being. Not only is it a time for me to embrace my culture and eat incredible food, but it is also a time for me to get a second chance at a new year.

The third is woven in here, simply because it is coming up in three days, my birthday. Now I know what you’re thinking, a birthday isn’t that monuments in terms of a “new year”, but I beg to differ. Birthday’s are the best time to reinvent yourself AND there's no pressure to do so because no one really expects you to. January 1st is when everyone decides to take charge and change their lives, Lunar New Year is about welcoming the year so it will bring you good things, but your birthday is all about you. It’s about celebrating you. You embrace everything you’ve been and everything you’re about to become, which is why I see it as the opportune time to write resolutions. Birthday goals. I still haven’t figured mine out yet, but I know they’re going to be good.

The fourth is intertwined with my birthday in a sense. As a Catholic, I find Lent to be one of the most productive “New Years”. Technically, it isn’t the start of anything new per say, but it is a dedicated time period that is all about self-reflection and development. This is exactly why it is my favorite time in the church. To me, it’s like what actual New Year’s wishes it was. It’s about resolutions, time to change and grow, but it’s about longevity and working beyond the 40 days and nights. Lent is focused on finishing it a better person internally than you were at the beginning.

Finally, we come to the last “new year”. Advent. This is what I like to take as my last ditch effort to have a “new start". Again, it is a Catholic thing, but it is technically the beginning of the Catholic calendar, as it is the four weeks leading up to Christmas. I love it because it is simple and adds a little something more to the hectic ness of the holiday season.

So those are my five New Years days, so far I think I’m 0/2 in terms of really making the most of them this year, but I plan to get at least one win in.

I Forgot Why I Write

This is going to sound so stupid and all over the place and maybe it’s just because I’m running off of two RedBulls and a couple of cookies but I have forgotten how much I love writing. All of my writing for the last few months, in all honesty, has been really depressing. It’s mainly due to the fact that I have been depressed and in this weird limbo area between good and bad for the past year, somewhat due to quarantine but also because of my own brain chemical. As I’ve been finishing up my college apps and preparing for the new year, I have actually begun to feel excited for the future. I don’t want to jinx it, but I genuinely think I am excited for the next year. Not because I think it’ll be this amazing year that I’ll remember forever, but because it’s new and it’s something tangible I can look forward to. But back to my main focus of my rekindled love for writing (I said this was going to be a bit of a mess). I love writing forever and always, but I have felt so uninspired lately to the point that writing has felt like a chore. I haven’t been able to get into that zone I crave so often, the one where I lose all track of time and just get lost in the words filling up the page. I think (again I don’t want to jinx myself) I am getting back to that place where I am good and I am inspired and I can feel the emotions run from my heart to my fingertips. Maybe that’s why this whole post is a bit of a mess. I am a mess but I’m happyish and I am inspired and I am writing and that’s all that matters to me.

Just let this be a reminder that you will feel good again, I promise.

Waking Up

cw: death

One of my biggest fears as a child was dying. The idea that as your last breath escapes your lips, you are sent into nothingness, the world closes in around you and creates a void where you unconsciously float for eternity. I used to pray to God every night, begging him to let me wake up in the morning. I didn’t have any rational explanations as to why I thought I would die every night but the simple idea that something could happen between sunset and sunrise petrified me.

As I’ve grown up I find it kind of funny how my perception of death has shifted and warped. I still fear death but for different reasons now. I fear my heart-stopping and leaving my bodily existence a mere shadow that fades away when the sunsets, leaving behind a life of unfulfilled potential that people look at and pity. And yet, as drops of insecurity sneak their way into my mind and beg me to make something of myself, I pray I don’t wake up.

My eyes open every morning the same, quickly and with urgency. Not because I am excited to start the day but because panic has surged my body into being alert. Vivid dreams fill my mind at night, ones that leave me disoriented and confused on what’s real and what’s in my head, this mayhem of my mind occupies the first few minutes of every morning. Immediately after, I am struck with the crushing reality that is life. It may sound morbid and depressing but after the hundredth time you’ve woken up to your anxiety using up all of your brain capacity by 8am, you start to dread the living aspect of life.

It’s not that I’m physically exhausted, I have enough energy, artificial and natural, pumping through my body to last a lifetime, it’s that my brain is working overtime. It’s trying to make sense of every obsession, every intrusive thought, every insecurity, and every fear that rushes the gates of my brain the second my eyes open. Living feels like a chore, one that’s at the bottom of the to-do list you just completed and all you want is to take off your shoes and drift into sleep. The pressure of needing to complete a full life has left me unable to live.

It’s a deadly cycle, one that I don’t really know how to break. Another cycle, another circle that I’ve found myself in. This constant rotation around the same mistakes makes the chaos of life feel monotonous. It almost makes me yearn for the days of all-consuming fear of death, but I don’t know if that was any better than this.

Medicine

Back in middle school, around eighth grade, I started homeopathic treatments for my mental illnesses. My parents didn’t want me to try out prescription medications yet, they feared for the side effects, and my mother, being a nurse, wanted to exhaust all other options before trying something more serious. They worked for a while, mixed with a psychiatrist and a therapist I was able to stop taking everything a year or two later.

At the beginning of this year, I was overwhelmed and lacked the resources I needed to succeed so I scheduled an appointment with my therapist for the first time in months, little did I know that would bring me where I never thought I would go.

About two weeks ago I started taking Prozac on top of homeopathic remedies and supplements. My mind had been heavier than I could carry for a while and my parents and I decided it was time to try it out. I think it’s working, my homeopathic treatments felt like a plastic spoon against a rock, but with everything combined, I feel like I at least have a knife in my hands to fight the stone.

Throughout this newer journey, I have been on with my mental health, I have realized a few things.

1. Help is a word I cannot take but will gladly give. I’ve always felt like I needed to be the one to fix all of my problems, if I keep everything close to my chest then nothing can go wrong. Wrong. Understanding the importance of asking for help has been one of the greatest lessons I’ve learned this year. My pride isn’t worth struggling forever, and my pride shouldn’t even be hurt by a moment of vulnerability.

2. Isolation breeds insanity. I’ve always viewed myself as an introvert and someone who values alone time, which I still do, but I think I’m ready to abandon the idea that I’m okay with being alone forever. Recently, I have been experiencing derealization and depersonalization, which in short means that I am disconnected from not only reality but myself. I have come to discover that while I may dislike social interaction, it is a vital part of maintaining my grasp on the world and who I am.

3. Finally, time is nothing and everything. I’ve always wished for more time, more time to do the things I want to do. I thought I needed extra hours in the day to do the things I loved, but the truth is I just needed to make the time myself. While yes obligations crowd my schedule, I have found beauty in the little pockets of blank space I find that I can utilize as a time of creativity and growth. While yes time is everything, it is nothing unless you make the most of it. With this idea, I have also come to terms with the fact that breaks and naps and days of laying in bed are necessary to be able to make the most of my time.

All of these things have been crutches I’ve carried for years. “Oh I have a mental illness, no one can understand me or help me,” “I function better alone, I can be myself in isolation,” “I don’t have any time to do anything, I’m overwhelmed.” I have always found ways to undermine myself and drag myself down to a level I think I belong at. Now as I have come to terms with the fact that I need medication and I am weak sometimes, I can see my strengths so much better. Accepting my faults and my weaker points, I am able to be gracious for my strengths and my abilities. I wish I was able to tell my eighth-grade self that when I first started homeopathic treatments. I used to be so scared and embarrassed that I needed all of this extra help that I hid it away and pretended I was perfectly capable of everything, I wasn’t.

Costco Steak

tw: eating disorders

On December 1, I started a food elimination. My doctor had me do a food sensitivity test to try and see if I was having digestion issues due to painful stomach aches that I got when I was stressed. To her and my surprise, a plethora of different foods showed up red on my chart so she suggested I do a food elimination for four weeks to reset my system.

Initially, I was petrified, I was in recovery, I couldn’t afford to relapse into my old habits of restriction. I was afraid that because I had a medical order to limit what foods I ate, I would use it as an excuse to starve myself. But I pushed forward and agreed to the four-week food elimination. I told myself that I would eat and that it was necessary for me to do so.

I am 6 days away from it being over now. Three weeks on this journey and I am okay. I haven’t purged or intentionally deprived myself of food. I’ve nourished my body and even allowed myself to eat fear foods. In all honesty, I didn’t think I would be able to do it. It was mentally challenging and stressful at times, but I think it has in turn given me an insight on how far I’ve come. How much I have improved and strengthened my mind. As I have made this discovery I have decided to challenge myself a bit and incorporate fear foods into my meals.

My diet consists of mostly seafood and some poultry, which evidently are foods I haven’t been able to consume for the past three weeks. One of the biggest food challenges that I have faced is eating steak. I have avoided red meat for almost five years now (minus once in Texas), due to health benefits but also due to fear of the calories and the richness of the meat. So a week ago I forced myself to toughen up and tackle a piece of steak, I needed the iron and protein after all. It was pretty good, I ate it and I lived to tell the tale. Eating a steak, a food that I have avoided like the plague, made me feel comfortable. I felt safe and content with where I was in my life, despite all of the stress and anxiety that builds in my mind every day, something that used to feel like Everest, was a minor bump in the road to me now.

It may sound silly to find this much power and self-acceptance in a Costco steak, but to me, it’s more than that. It’s another step in my recovery that I don’t think I would’ve taken if it weren’t for this food elimination.

Ate

tw: eating disorders

I would like to put a little disclaimer and say that I am not sponsored (I do not have the following for that). So this review is completely of my own opinion.

If you have ever had an unhealthy relationship with food, there has probably come a time where you downloaded MyFitnessPal or some other calorie counting app. You start to become obsessed with the numbers and you can’t stop. It’s almost like an addiction.

In my journey of recovery, I have tried to stop counting calories in many different ways. Each one has lead me right back to tracking the numbers. However, I recently discovered the app Ate. It’s a meal tracking app but it focuses on mindful eating and getting you to a goal of feeling happy and healthy. My psychiatrist that I used to see for my eating disorders, would always tell me to eat intuitively. I tried many times to just eat when I was hungry and then stop when I was full, but kept feeling the need to track my meals

I continuously fell back into old habits. I couldn't just not track what I ate. I had spent so many years measuring and weighing and counting my food that cutting it all cold turkey was too much for me to handle. With Ate, I am able to not only document each meal but also how it made me feel and what I enjoyed about it.

I think that by keeping track of how each meal makes me feel, has helped me to become more in tune with my body and what it needs to get me through the day. I’ve only used it for a week or so, but it has helped me already in being more mindful of my eating habits in a healthy way. Now is it still hard? Yes, it very much is. Not seeing a number next to each meal is hard to get used to. I still find myself adding everything up in my head and keeping a mental note of it. This reflex is going to go away eventually but it’s going to take some time. I spent years conditioning myself to think this way and it’s going to take years to recondition myself, but I have confidence I can do it.

And I have confidence you can too! Obviously everyone’s road to recovery is a little different, but if you’re like me and need to be able to see your meals lined up from the day I recommend this app. I hope to no longer feel the urge to have to track anything one day but for now this is my method.

If you download the app please let me know how you like it on my instagram @morganlingcom. I would love to be able to support anyone on their journey to recovery!

Numbers

tw: eating disorders

It’s like riding a bike. Once you learn how, you never forget.

I made myself lunch today and as I sat down to eat, I realized that I had been counting the calories while I was cooking. I wasn’t going out of my way to look at the numbers or to calculate it out, but I still knew the number for each spring roll as I brought them to my mouth. It was like instinct. I’ve counted my calories for so many years that I trained my subconscious to do it on its own.

And I wish I could unlearn it.

How many calories in this bite?

How many more minutes until I can stop running?

How many more miles until I pass out?

For years, I’ve been obsessed with these numbers. Making sure that I met the “requirements” I needed to look “good”, to feel “good”. I engrained them into my mind now and now no matter how hard I try to step away from the constant critiquing, it always sneaks its way back into my life. It doesn’t matter how much I want to get better, how much I want to be okay, how much I want to be healthy, I still fall right before I reach a healthy relationship with food.

But this time I actually believe I can do it, I can get better. I’m not just telling myself that I’ll be okay over and over again so I’ll believe it. I know I’ll be okay. I realize that it’s not so much a matter of unlearning it but instead learning a new way to combat it.

And I think I’ll reach it this time.

Maybe

TW: eating disorders

Every time I think about my eating disorder, I always focus on the amount of time I spend on it. The time spent on counting calories, measuring out portions, thinking about the next meal. It makes me wonder about who I would be if I had spent that time doing something different. Something worth it.

Maybe if I wasn't so focused on food then I would be a better student. All of those long days at school on an empty stomach were spent doodling on paper and daydreaming. Not because I wasn’t interested In the agenda for the day, but because I couldn't see straight when I looked at the board. My thoughts were loud, making sure I remembered I wasn’t allowed to eat yet, instead of the notes I was writing. Maybe if I didn’t think about how I looked sitting at a desk all day I would know calculus and be able to multiply at the drop of a hat. Maybe if I had eaten my meals more regularly I would remember what we talked about in world history. Maybe if I wasn’t worried about my esophaguses rupturing I would’ve paid better attention in Spanish class and would understand subjunctives. I can only imagine the student that I could’ve been if I just payed a little more attention.

Maybe if I wasn’t so focused on food then I would be a better friend. My heart drops every time I decline an invitation to a party or a sleepover because I know that I should go, but then they would smell the bile on my breath. I don’t want to have to say no again because I binged so badly that my chest became heavy and my stomach started to hurt. Maybe if I allowed myself to nourish my body I wouldn't push away my friends. Maybe if I didn’t punish myself for every little decision I made I would be able to enjoy the company of others. Maybe if I loved myself a little more, I wouldn’t be so jealous of the people I surround myself with. I can’t wait for the day that I stop comparing myself to the people I love the most.

Maybe if I wasn’t so focused on food then I would be a better daughter. I can recall most of the times where I’ve lashed out on my parents when they’ve said something or gave me something just because I was nutrient deprived. Seeing the pain in their eyes when I start to cry cause I ate more than I wanted to makes my heart break. Maybe if I didn't need to weigh out everything I ate I would be able to enjoy family dinners. Maybe if I just ate a sufficient amount of food I wouldn't get frustrated at the sound my mom’s voice. Maybe if I just accepted that I am perfectly fine as I am, my parents wouldn’t talk about how much my pain hurts them behind my back. I don't want to continue to drag my parents down with me anymore.

My mind floods with hypothetical situations daily. Constantly pondering what could’ve been. Fun fact, it doesn’t help to focus on the what ifs. I’ve wasted so much time on wondering who I would be if I was okay with myself, instead of actually working to make myself okay. I want to stop wasting time and letting myself get caught up in all of the ‘maybes’, and one day I will.

Day 1

The first step is always the hardest. Especially when you’ve taken hundreds of first steps towards the same goal and the only thing that you can see ahead of you is the path right back to where you’re standing.

Out of everything, eating disorders are the hardest for me to talk about. For years I have struggled with my body image and it’s still painful to admit that. This isn’t to say that everything else is simple and easy to deal with, there is just something about eating disorders that makes my stomach turn.

So obviously my solution is to push through that discomfort in order to find a happy ending. I will be dedicating this page to eating disorder stories in hopes to spread some awareness, maybe help someone else struggling, and ultimately help me to recover.

Choices

Here I am, emerging from darkness and beginning to feel good again. I’ve been here before and I don’t doubt I’ll be here again. But unlike every other time, I see a new path ahead, a new choice to make.

There is a very prevalent pattern in my life. I’ve always known about it and I’ve tried to break it, but every time I do I just end up going through the cycle again and again. It doesn’t really have a start or an end, it’s like a circle and there are just stages along the way. Mostly it consists of a depressive episode followed by a new zest for life that fizzles out and leads me right back to dark solitude. My efforts to stop it have failed so many times that they’ve become a part of this pattern.

The only thing that makes this time different, allowing me to see a new light, is that I let myself become content. I didn't try to “fix myself” or suppress my emotions. I didn't force myself to move onto the next stage, pretending like I was okay all of a sudden and life was great. Instead I let myself feel it all. I allowed myself to actually work through my low point rather than slapping on a bandaid and saying I was fine. This way I could eventually arise genuinely okay.

I stopped holding the bar for myself higher than I could reach, instead I set it on the floor and abandoned the reputations I tried to uphold to please other people. I let myself be weak and vulnerable and powerless. Not just at night when I was alone in my room or in the bathroom at a party or under the guise of “I’m just tired”. I let it all wash over me to the point I became numb. I was apathetic towards life for awhile, thinking, “Is this it? Is this what I’m supposed to feel? Is this what I get for allowing my self to let my guard down?”

I made small efforts to feel “alive” again: driving around for hours, letting sunlight hit my skin, drinking copious amounts of water. They seemed futile until I finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel. And it lead me here. Where I’ve been before, except there is a slight difference. There is a new path in front me. This one leads me out of the cycle. The other leads right back into it.

I think that the reason I can see a new way forward now is because I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that not everything can’t be perfect. Not everything can be exactly right all the time. It’s not healthy for me to see the world as “all or nothing” and I am now ready to fully accept that.

It’s been a long road to get to this point and an even longer one awaits me, but it beats spinning in circles for the rest of my life.