.: Renewal :.

I miss blogging too much…

Morsels of Life

.: Bowing Out :.

When I first began blogging, I never knew that such a beautiful, supportive blogging community existed – one filled with gorgeous rays of sunshine who share experiences similar to mine.

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I blogged, because I enjoyed having an outlet for me to voice my thoughts, to mull over issues gnawing at me. Or to put it simply, to write. Or type if you want to get technical about it.

Somehow, being able to pull out my laptop and type away became a form of therapy. And slowly, I began to get acquainted with more and more bloggers – food bloggers, health bloggers, recovered and recovering bloggers. To wake up each morning to comments filled with hope and encouragement drove me to continue writing, while also fulfilling my desire to be a support to other bloggers.

As the blogosphere started to unfold itself to me, it opened my eyes to so many many things. It unveiled friendships, support networks, the ability to learn from others’ experiences, the access to see how the other side of the world lives…

At the same time, I noticed that my blog statistics began to show an increasing number of visitors each day. Of course, it brought me excitement to see that stats counter going up, up, up, but I soon realised that it also meant I had to be more careful, more responsible about what I wrote, how I wrote, and how much information I divulged about myself, my friends and my family.

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Without me realising it, I began to write for fellow bloggers and readers. I started to censor a lot of my raw emotions for fear that I would negatively affect those in recovery especially.

I stopped writing so much about food I ate, or the lack of, because I didn’t want other girls and guys getting affected and following suit. I tried to not reveal just how much I was suffering, hedging my words and constantly talking about fighting even when I had little will to fight anymore.

I wanted to be Natalie – the inspirer, the Strong One, the fighter who reigned victorious over ED. But I wasn’t. And I’m not.

As I tried to keep up with reading other blogs, it dawned on me that while I managed to draw strength from so many of them, there were some that sub-consciously led me to keep a foothold on ED. Without knowing, I allowed ED to feed on these blogs – blogs that documented every calorie ‘purged’ through (in my opinion) obsessive exercise and every meal consumed, under the guise of ‘healthy living’.

Now, I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with eating and exercising. No siree. And I’m not wagging my finger at anyone in particular. All I am saying is that sometimes, we know when a fellow blogger is struggling like hell, or slowly falling back into ED’s trap, but we keep quiet. I’ll be the first to say that I don’t generally speak up even when I can tell someone’s slipping, falling, tumbling for fear of an angsty backlash.

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There have been times when I’ve wished for someone to knock me in the head with the harshness of words. Not in the way of being derogatory or mean. But you know, give me some real tough love just to jolt me awake.

I don’t mean to offend anyone. I guess in a way, I think the blog world can be beneficial to some, and detrimental to others. For ED recoverers, it can aid us towards health restoration, or it can trap us in this vicious cycle in a bid to remain in this online ‘sorority’.

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With a heart heavy with sorrow, I believe I can no longer remain in this realm of blogging. No. This isn’t the end. I know that blogging will be something I’ll definitely come back to. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe next month. I don’t know. But as long as my ED resides in me, I know that I remain vulnerable to the lure of overexercising and undereating. That competitive streak continues to thrive.

It is no one’s fault but my own because I am too weak to put up with this fight. In a way, I don’t feel like I’m even struggling or fighting anymore. I guess a lot of it has to do with this idea that I deserve what’s happening to me right now… like this is my retribution for the harm I have placed upon others, for the earthly sins I have committed. The world can tell me otherwise, but that will not change how I feel towards myself. At least, not for now.

Once I come back from the UK, I have an appointment lined up with a counsellor – one who is willing to offer me spiritual guidance along with self-healing. That’s all I can actually say about the actions I am taking right now in dealing with ED.

I always thought that this blog would follow me through to at least weight restoration. I suppose sometimes, we can’t plan what is to come in our lives.

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I have been so blessed to have come to know so many of you and it pains me to have to cut away this medium that has tied me to each of you for almost a year and a half now. Perhaps you’ll find me one day, blogging at another address. Perhaps not. Perhaps I’ll come back to blog here. Perhaps not.

But I pray that you will live happily, healthfully and heartily. Live. Laugh. Love. Hope. And I pray that each of you will realise that you have each touched my life in your own ways.

Thank you all for the love, the support and the strength you have shown me.

Much love, always and always,
Nat xoxo

.: A Ramble, A Recipe & A Reunion :.

The Ramble

The cat sat on the mat.

Subject. Verb. Object. – SVO

Most of us learnt this fundamental of the English language in school from a ripe young age.

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Funny huh?! The cat sat on the mat…

You can ask the cat how it’s sitting on the mat and it can give you 101 different ways – upright, legs flayed out, cross-legged, legs outstretched… whatever the case, the fact remains that it is ON the mat. That is, the cat’s interpretation of the way in which it is sitting is subjective, but the mat is really the objective measure.

Similarly, here’s another standard SVO sentence:

Nat stood on the weighing scale.

Yes. She did it again. (Insert expletive here).

Here, the subject is Nat, and the scale is the object right?

So this morning, the scale being the objective one told Nat that she isn’t doing as well as she is leading herself to believe.

Thing is, whenever I look at the scale and the numbers drop, even if a little, I tell myself that the scale’s obviously not working properly. But whenever the numbers increase, I get myself in a wheezy panic, sure as hell that the weighing scale never lies.

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SVO. Subjectivity VS. Objectivity.

Last night, I struggled with derogatory feelings that made trying to get to sleep uncomfortable because I felt like I had to be doing something, like I had to be active.

This morning, after my swim, I walked into the lift and found myself face to face with a mother and her young daughter. Suddenly, I felt self-conscious and fearful of scaring the little girl with the lack of health I may be depicting.

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At times like these where my mind oscillates between seeing myself as too big, or too small, or totally normal, I get confused. Sure, the weighing scale tells me objectively how far along I am on this recovery journey, or how far away perhaps, but subjectivity is to me, a much easier concept to grasp and believe in.

Argh!

Ramble over.

The Recipe

For those of you who voiced your interest in the chap chye (mixed vegetables) recipe I used to whip up chap chye for Dad last month, here it is!!

In lieu with the Tan family gathering organised by Sa Kou, who was back for a short few days trip, yesterday, I was appointed the Head Chef of cooking chap chye for the evening. My Sous-Chef was of course, none other than my beloved mother.

First things first, the ingredients:

Top (L-R): Dried beancurd sheets, Chinese cabbage (wongbok), round cabbage
Middle (L-R): Dried brown savoury beancurd leather, cellophane noodles (tang hoon)
Bottom (L-R): Dried black fungus, dried shiitake mushrooms

Note: No exact measurements for ingredients here since they’re subject to your preferences and how big an army you’re feeding. Hehe. I used all of both cabbages up last night. Also, the black fungus really really bloats up onces rehydrated to about thrice the size you see here, so you may not want to get too much out in one go.

I’m really not quite sure what this savoury brown beancurd leather is called properly, but it looks like fruit leather so I decided to dub it beancurd leather. Does anyone know it’s proper name?

Anyway, it’s sold at most wet markets in Singapore by dried food stalls. Ask for the one to be used in cooking chap chye because it’s different from the sweet ones used in bee hoon (rice vermicelli). Since they’re sold in thick strips, you have to cut them breadth-wise to about 1cm strips and deep-fry.

I suck at deep-frying so I left this for Mum to handle. x) Once fried, take them out to drain on a paper towel.

Soak the dry ingredients i.e. the cellaphone noodles, shiitake mushrooms, black fungus and beancurd sheets, in hot water for about 15 minutes or until rehydrated.

Also, chop up the cabbages and remember to give them a good wash!

Time to marinate!!

But first, remember to chuck away the hard stems of the shiitake mushrooms and slice the heads thinly.

THEN marinate the noodles, mushrooms, fungus and beancurd sheets (also cut) in dark soy sauce, light soy sauce, sesame oil and oyster sauce – all subject to taste really so no measurements here. If you want this fully vegetarian, you can substitute oyster sauce for vegetarian oyster-flavoured sauce. x)

I left the ingredients to sit for a couple of hours while Mum and I went to town.

After a bout of chillaxing, get out some peanut oil (this, my aunt swears, makes ALL the difference) and heat it up in a good ol’ wok, or a nice big pot or pan – whatever suits your fancy.

Now, stir-fry the black fungus, mushrooms and noodles INDIVIDUALLY before…

cooking the cabbages. This takes a bit of time depending on the quantity of cabbage you’re using. Be patient and let is cook down until its sweet juices start to be released. Then, add ALL the other ingredients in and mix mix mix.

Let the vegetables simmer for a further 25-30 minutes so that their flavours can mingle with each other. Do check up on them every 10 minutes to give them a toss.

Then, it’s time to eat!

The Reunion

So family dinner last night was a pot-luck dinner, with Mum and I bringing the chap chye of course. Sa Kou made fried mushroom brown rice specially for me, which I was really touched by. I had a bit of it and it was simple, but fantastic – who cannot love the chewiness and nuttiness of brown rice?!

Sa Kou also made steamed crabs, Hainanese pork chops with potatoes in homemade tomato sauce, and slow cooked shredded turnip with dried shrimp. The roast duck pictured above was brought courtesy of my oldest uncle, while my youngest uncle brought prawn noodles which I was too lazy to snap since he came late. Lol.

There was also a plate of Teochew rice dumplings (peng kueh), bamboo shoots dumplings (soon kueh with real soon!) and chive dumplings (gu chye kueh), a bowl of lychees from Taiwan!, assorted ‘tortoise’ dumplings which are basically soft, chewy, almost mochi-like dough enclosing different fillings such as ground peanuts, mung bean paste, red bean paste, sesame paste etc…

Sa Kou also made a lotus nut dessert using lotus root flour instead of corn flour to lightly thicken the soup. I tried some and it was lovely, if not a little sweeter that I’m used to. We were also treated to some Taiwanese melon which sadly, turned out having a rather powdery texture.

Still, great food and good food aside, what I enjoyed most from last night was catching up with family – uncles, aunties and cousins, and even a nephew!

Plus a picture of me with my bottle of special peanut oil from Taiwan! x)

There really isn’t anything quite like the warmth and good cheer of a family!

What greater thing is there for human souls than to feel that they are joined for life – to be with each other in silent unspeakable memories.
– George Eliot

Much Love,

Nat xoxo

.: Call Me Bob :.

That’s Pendulum Bob.

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At least, that’s what I feel like. I’m swinging swinging swinging between strength and weakness, health and sickness, recovery and deterioration. Most of the time, I lean towards the latter.

Before I go on, brace yourself for a not-so-optimistic post that is predisposed to being triggering.

I’ve been feeling this inane need to compensate for increasing my food intake, even though I know that the increase is ever so slight and still far from good enough. Actually, I don’t quite know if I can call it compensating but I know that my inclination to keep active through the day is mad strong.

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Sunday, finding myself with nothing to do in the afternoon, I headed to the gym for an hour despite knowing that Mum and I were going for Intermediate yoga class that evening.

Yesterday, I went swimming in the morning and got so irritable in the afternoon that Mum had to find housework for me to do – hand mopping our bedroom floors which I relished getting on my hands and knees to do.

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The mood at home was terrible yesterday because of my crankiness and I hate that I didn’t try to get over the negativity, especially since Dad had his flight off to the UK last night as well. Because of me, Mum was pretty darned upset – upset enough to turn on the waterworks which she’s not done in… I can’t even remember when.

Some daughter I am huh?!

Today, I walked 40 minutes out to the Minimart (and back) at our main road to get the newspaper, choosing the take the roundabout route even though it usually takes about 20 minutes. Then, after shoving some pumpkin into the oven to have as part of lunch, I decided that with nothing on TV and nothing else I felt bothered to do, I might as well go for a swim just to keep myself occupied.

After lunch, I got ready to head into town to shop for some bits and bobs, before missing the shuttle bus home by 2 minutes!! I saw the back of it and that was as close as I got. So I took to public bus to our nearest bus stop and opted to walk 20 minutes home with my shopping bags instead of calling Mum to ask for a lift, reasoning that I didn’t want to trouble her.

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I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I feel such strong compulsions to keep myself busy. I don’t know why I still can’t let myself eat normally or freely. I don’t know why I am struggling so much.

I remember during my first in-patient treatment, I met a girl older than me by about 4 years. She’d struggled with AN for about 5 years – which I thought was crazy long – and I remember her being so pessimistic about recovery. She told me that after fighting for so many years, she didn’t think she was strong enough to be healthy again. She told me that with each relapse, her will to overcome ED dwindled.

At the time, I viewed her with judgmental eyes. I saw her as being too cynical for her own good. But now… now… I kinda understand. The longer it takes, the harder it gets because ED gets so ingrained into our being.

I’ve been thinking about seeing a counsellor – one that I saw for a short period of time before the hospital hooked me up with one of their psychologists. The thing is, my struggle right now is the intense fear of gaining weight and my battle to love my body and myself and treat it right.

I guess at times, I can’t see anything in my future worth being healthy for and my body at a healthy weight doesn’t seem to appeal to me. Still, it doesn’t make it right and it doesn’t mean that this should be permission from myself to stay where I am.

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Hence, the decision to start counselling in order to get some guidance in self-love as well as to obtain some spiritual direction since the place I’ll be going to is a Christian couselling centre. I have been contesting my faith for years and have got lost time and again. I don’t know if all this will help me, aid me but I hope it will. At the same time though, I fear that if it doesn’t help, I’ll just end up wasting a bunch of Mum and Dad’s hard-earned money that could well be put to better use. I understand that they don’t think of it like that… but I do.

Sometimes, I feel so strongly towards healing myself, so ready to fight a good fight. And then the tides turn and come mealtime, all the bravado that I had gathered suddenly diminishes into nothingness.

There are so many girls and guys I have had the pleasure to meet online and off, who have managed to dash into the dragon’s lair, braved its fiery breath and slay it once and for all. I don’t know why I can’t seem to do that. Instead, I’m like a cowardly jester, standing rooted to the spot in fear, daring only to play with the fire I have conjured up for myself…

At times like these, I just feel like such a joke – one that even I can’t take seriously…

.: Today is… :.

The first day of the rest of my life.

Well technically, yesterday was because I drafted this post yesterday. But that doesn’t really matter now does it? Each new day CAN be the first day of the rest of my life. =)

I am…

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Scared. Fearful. Frightened… to put it mildly.

Call it whatever you want. Fact is, I am beside myself with terror because finally, FINALLY, I took a step forward today.

Yes. I have been talking about the need to recover for a couple of posts now but taking the plunge was always delayed because I couldn’t, or wouldn’t, push myself forward.

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And then last night, I found myself scoffing down 2 calorie-laden bars, a handful of chocolate-covered almonds, a couple of walnuts and a kit-kat at 2am in the morning just before the match between Ghana and Uruguay.

Something in my head told me that my body was screaming for protein and sugar. And I was all set to go into full-on binge mode when I realised that I didn’t feel like having any more nuts or chocolates anymore. So I stopped.

Did I feel good? Not really.

I kept checking to see if I’d suddenly gained weight using my oh-so-trusty hands as measuring tools. I contemplated purging and figured it wasn’t worth it. I sat through the match feeling numbified, willing myself to start eating properly or face bingeing episodes at a far greater scale if I continued restricting.

I told myself that I would wake up today and start nourishing my body properly. No more playing with fire, unless I want holey bones and a Homer-like hairstyle for the rest of my life, unless I want a wrecked digestive system and be a walking-skeleton before I even go six-feet-under – or get cremated (which is the norm here).

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So this morning, I woke up feeling like – to put it bluntly – shit.

I didn’t feel like eating. ED and I were going back and forth over what to eat, how much to eat, should I even eat?! I spoke to Mum, confided in Dad. Despite them telling me that I look too too thin, I couldn’t believe them because my eyes have been telling me otherwise.

And then… I’m ashamed to say this but… I had Dad pull out the weighing scale for me.

I guess I didn’t realise how much I’ve spiralled. Sure, I’m not at my worst but do I want to be back at my lowest weight?! No!

A niggling part of me told me, “just lose another kilo and you can stop restricting.”

Ridiculous you say? I concur.

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This isn’t going to be easy. No one said it was going to be. But I know that if I do not take this one step forward, I’ll just be falling… falling… falling further.

Now, there will be days when I’ll be eating more, and days when I’ll eat less. Some days I’ll be more active, other days I may laze around doing nothing. There will be good days, bad days, hopeful days and trying days. There will be days where I will probably feel liberated, and days where I feel tortured and tempted to restrict…

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I just want to relearn, and rediscover, how to eat normally again, to listen to my body, to read its signals. I want to stop obsessing over numbers, to stop feeling guilty if I’ve been passive all day, to stop worrying about growing into a woman with curves.

I’m not going to dive into the deep pool and say that I’ll eat whatever’s being thrown at me any time of the day. What I want to do instead is to start eating foods I want to eat be it at home or at cafes, restaurants, food centres… At least, that’s where I plan to start this leg of recovery.

I question how successful I will this time around though. To be honest, I’m scared that I’ll panic once I reach a certain size again. While I don’t plan on weighing myself anymore, today was a real wake-up call for me in terms of how much I’ve let myself slip, as well as how much my body is asking to be fed. I don’t want to keep riding this rollercoaster for the rest of my life.

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For now, I need to take each day at a time. To focus on consuming and savouring one meal at a time.

With me quaking in my boots, taking one tentative step forward at a time, I know I can slowly push past these fears. In a way, I think that eating better today has helped me feel slightly better, slightly stronger about fighting ED once again.

So here’s to the first day of the rest of my life. I hope. =x

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Much love,
Nat xoxo

.: A Piece of Wisdom :.

Almost every month without fail, I’ll pick up a copy of Shape Magazine (Singapore edition) to have a good read. To be honest, I don’t bother much with the exercise tips and plans because oftentimes, I don’t have the equipment at home and well, I’d much rather be outdoors in the pool, doing yoga, or soaking up the evening breeze on my evening walks.

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What I do appreciate about Shape is that they tend to use healthy-looking models who are toned, not thin. Plus, there is a greater emphasis on healthy living rather than fad-diets, which I think is extremely important not just for my own mental well-being, but for the well-being of women the world over.

Now, I’m not trying to promote Shape in any way – even though I kind of am. Lol. I started this entry talking about this magazine because I bought the latest issue home yesterday and came across a short interview they’d conducted with a home-grown singer-songwriter, Corrinne May.

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One of the questions posed to her was this:

What’s one piece of wisdom you’ve learnt with age?

To which she replied:

I’ve learnt that the truth is often veiled, and that people often don’t want to hear the truth. When I was young, I used to think that there was nothing wrong with society permitting abortion in cases of incest of rape. But now, I realise that you cannot right a wrong by doing another wrong. I’ve learnt to look a little deeper at certain things because I realise that truth cannot be compromised.

I really liked her answer and the first thought that flashed across my mind related to my fight with ED. As my psychologist established with me about a year back already, my dependence on ED appears to be rooted in some uglies that happened years ago when I was in my early teens.

What is now past may not have been pretty, but trying to lean on ED as a means to make everything right in my mind, isn’t actually right. Instead, all I am really doing is keeping the truth wrapped up, suppressing it instead of accepting that what’s done is done and I have to let go.

To let ED thrive isn’t right and I cannot undo what’s been done by continuing to let it rule over me, over my thoughts, over my actions. It’s hard for me to see the truth as it is – the truth that I need to stop entertaining ED and do what’s best for myself. It’s hard to stop punishing myself even though I realise that the things that happened all those years ago were not entirely my fault.

This morning, as I was getting dressed, I looked at my reflection in the mirror and saw a girl. A girl that has become a little too skinny. For a moment, it dawned on me that I am dangerously close to becoming the skeletal creature I was 2 years ago, when I was at my worst.

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And then I blinked again.

That reflection disappeared and all I could see was the me I always see – not necessarily overweight, but definitely far from being emaciated.

There are times when I think that perhaps my eyes are lying to me. Then there are other times when I think that I’m just being ridiculous. Afterall, if I see everything else the same as other people, how can I see myself differently from them?

The thing is, ED does lie to us and that’s the cold, hard truth. ED twists facts using all ways and means in order to keep us under its thumb. The more we let ED feed us with lies, the more wrong we’re accumulating in our lives, making it more and more difficult to make things right.

The solution?

I guess the solution then, and I’m thinking that there can only be one solution, is to not just kick ED out of our lives, but to crush it, kill it, pound it into dust. This may be the hardest battle I’ll ever have to fight, but I know that the day I emerge victorious, is the day I can say that I can conquer anything, anything at all.

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“For You are my lamp, O Lord; the Lord shall enlighten my darkness. For by You I can run against a troop; by my God I can leap over a wall. As for God, His way is perfect; the word of the Lord is proven; He is a shield to all who trust in Him.”
– 2 Samuel 22:29

1. Do you suffer from body-dysmorphism?
I don’t actually think I do, not much anyway. Like, I don’t see myself as overweight or anything, but I do see myself as looking healthy and normal. And it confuses me A LOT when my weight doesn’t reflect that. Also, I guess on the odd occasion I peer into the mirror, like this morning, and see someone a lot thinner than usual, it makes me think that perhaps I do have some form of distorted perception towards myself

2.  Read magazines much?
I usually get Shape and Food & Travel every month.  I used to buy Cleo, Seventeen (until I turned 18.. hehe), Female and Glamour, depending on whether their covers interested me but have stopped for ages now because I found myself started to compare my body with some of the models in them. =x I still read them at the hairdresser’s on occasion although I try to bring my own books instead to keep me entertained.

Much love
Nat xoxo

.: Stopping the Search :.

I am super bummed that Japan got knocked out of the World Cup yesterday. =(

But…

here‘s a reason to cheer! The Land Down Under have taken actions to try and ban the use of too-skinny models and photoshopping of pictures to make women look thinner than they are in reality. Perhaps this move will lead to a positive change in how women, both young and old, perceive themselves and their bodies.

While I am in full support of the need to do away with models who are undernourished, I don’t think that the modelling industry should then focus entirely on plus-size models. Instead, there has to be a diversity of sizes, an emphasis on real, natural women because beauty is everywhere, isn’t it? The tall, the petite, the curvaceous, and the less curvy… It’s the very fact that we’re different that makes us all special, unique and beautiful.

Your thoughts?

I spent this morning with my nose buried in this book, not putting it down until I’d read the very last page:

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I believe it is part of Oprah’s Book Club too. Anyway, I’ve never read a book that’s evoked so much frustration, sadness, and in a way, a sort of revelation in me… at least, until now.

She’s Come Undone pretty much traces the life of a young woman, Dolores, and how violence and rape made her into a bitter person laden with guilt while turning to television, chain-smoking and binge-eating to the point of obesity.

As I read, I noticed how Dolores and I deal with situations beyond our control in similar ways, in destructive ways – only she indulged in food, while I refrain.

To cut a long story short, Dolores struggled for years waiting for Happiness to come, for a sense of self-worth to evolve within her. I guess I’m like that too. I keep waiting and waiting for the day I can experience an epiphany that will compel me to start recovery on full-steam. The thing is, happiness isn’t meant to be found, it’s meant to be created:

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We create our own happiness.

I can dwell in ED for the rest of my days, anticipating a break-through, hoping for THE day that I will suddenly be able to let go of it. I realise though, that happiness doesn’t come that way. I have to make that break-through, let go of ED actively, and not wait for some miracle to happen because really, the miracle is in ridding myself of ED. And when I can do that, that’s when I create my own happiness.

Is this getting a little too deep?

Lol.

Anyway, just before dinner this evening, I happened to catch the latter half of this programme on cable that touched upon anorexia. It showed a 38-year-old woman, coincidentally named Natalie as well, who has had anorexia since childhood.

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Now, she’s plagued with osteoporosis and is hardly able to walk. Her digestive system has been wrecked so badly she’d not able to eat anything except a small icicle thing that apparently tastes vile, and must be eaten every hour and a half in order to keep her alive. It is almost impossible for her now to lead a normal life, having to be accompanied 24/7 by her friend who has to take care of all her needs. To put it bluntly, it was heartbreaking.

Being (relatively) young still, I have this ‘It won’t happen to me because I won’t let it’ mentality. Unfortunately, I also know how far from the truth it is. I could very well wind up like Natalie – fully dependent on another for everything – unable to marry, have children, be healthy, eat well.

So what am I to do?

I have to create my own happiness and start doing, stop waiting.

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1. Do you create your own happiness?
I know this is kinda a heavy question, but I guess we can create our own happiness by doing even simple things. For me, it’d be cooking for the people I love, being with them and enjoying being in their company. Of course, in the grand scheme of things, I’m looking to create happiness for myself that will be long-lasting.

2. Read any good books lately?
Prior to reading She’s Come Undone, I was reading Julie and Julia which I really enjoyed! I know I know, I’m a slow-poke especially since the movie’s been shown already. I really want to watch the movie now though! And I’ve got Julia Child’s book too which I plan to start on now that I’ve finished She’s Come Undone – hopefully that’ll be a good read too. x)

Each morning when I open my eyes I say to myself: I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn’t arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I’m going to be happy in it.
– Groucho Marx

Much love
Nat xoxo

.: Flexibility :.

Main Entry: flex·i·ble
Pronunciation: \ˈflek-sə-bəl\
Function: adjective
Date: 15th century
1 : capable of being flexed : pliant
2 : yielding to influence : tractable
3 : characterized by a ready capability to adapt to new, different, or changing requirements<a flexible foreign policy> <a flexible schedule>
synonyms see elastic
— flex·i·bil·i·ty \ˌflek-sə-ˈbi-lə-tē\ noun
— flex·i·bly \ˈflek-sə-blē\ adverb
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Yoga.

Yoga in the last many months has brought within me a sense of peace and well-being. Yoga lessons have been amazing, which each new one showing me just how beautiful and wondrous the body is. I always find myself letting go of stresses that have accumulated over the week and fostering clarity of mind as I focus on moulding myself into various poses.

During this evening’s yoga lesson, Master Venn really pushed me harder, telling me that with my physical flexibility, I can afford to develop it further for the benefit of my body. So, while the rest of class continued with the usual poses, Master Venn got me to ‘contort’ my body to do this:

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The advanced camel posture…

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And the padangustha – or what Master calls the advanced bowl posture

Lordie lord, it wasn’t easy as pie but the high I got from realising how much my body is able to do made me come away from class today feeling as though someone had given me a million buckeroos!

We’ve just finished this round of lessons and Master’s been asking me to go into Intermediate. I’ve been staying in Elementary to keep Mum company but now, I’m contemplating levelling up. I’m apprehensive too though because I’m afraid of not being able to keep up – even though Master says there shouldn’t be a problem. I guess I can always move back down if I find Intermediate too hard.

Speaking of flexibility, I wanted to touch upon definition 3. That is, flexibility that is characterized by a ready capability to adapt to new, different, or changing requirements.

I’m going to come straight out and say that I sometimes feel as though I’m doing this:

(Source)

drowning.

Drowning in this disease, and I can’t actually say my hands are outstretched in a bid to be saved.

I find myself getting more embedded in routine, more rigid with meals, more anxious about exercise even though light exercise is enough to pacify me. Thing is, I can see that the lack of flexibility in my actions is starting to take a toll on my body…

During yoga today, there were certain poses like this one:

(Source)

and this one:

(Source)

which made me realise that I have lost quite a bit of weight since prior to leaving on my holiday to Taiwan a month back. When I did the ‘superman’ pose, my pelvic bones pressed down against the mat and I was in a spot of pain which I made myself grin and bear. Doing the ‘roly poly’, my backbone didn’t allow my back to support me properly because it protruded and made me feel as though I was grinding my bones down.

Now, I love yoga and I realise that if I continue to let ED pull me down, if I surrender, I won’t be able to keep practising it. Eventually, ED will simply make yoga a literal pain and suck the joy out of it. I realise how my body needs to be nourished to be strong enough to keep doing what I enjoy, what helps me destress, what liberates my mind. I need to open my mind and allow myself the flexibility to eat as I should and as I want.

The problem is:

Talk is cheap. Actions are priceless.

I can talk the talk but I need to walk the walk…

.: Cooking with Love :.

Bustling around in the kitchen has always brought about a sense of therapy for me.

When I was in the UK studying for my A’s, my grandmother started to teach me the basics of baking and so, I would bask in the warmth of the kitchen during winter as the oven did the magic transforming the doughs and batters I put in. I would split my baked goods into two batches – one for us to munch on at home, and the other to bring to school for my friends to sample. I don’t know why but each time I saw the look of sheer delight on their faces whenever they bit into my baked goodies, my heart would fill with joy.

One thing about me is that whenever I embark on a culinary one-dish journey, I end up putting pressure on myself to perform to my own high expectations. I tend to want to get things right and get them right the first time. Otherwise, I get disheartened and sometimes, beat myself up over it.

Buttttt…

I’m not here to whinge about my (occasional)  inadequacies. Rather, I thought I’d share about the pleasure of doing something for someone I love dearly – the man who has been my steadfast supporter since forever, the man who puts up with my nonsensical tantrums, the man who loves me unconditionally – Daddy Tan!

Having spent some time with Sa Kou, my third aunt (Dad’s third sister) during my recent trip to Taiwan, I was lucky enough to be taught a few of her ‘secret’ recipes, a few of which were passed down from my late grandmother! I’ve always wanted to learn how to cook more traditional Teochew dishes since we’re Teochews, so I relished watching my aunt cook and learning from her.

Sidenote: Teochews are a clan originating from China – Kind of like the Cantonese. So while we are Chinese based on race, we’re Teochew based on the region my ancestors came from which happens to be Swatow. My aunts and uncles can still speak the Teochew language, which is now a little different from the Teochew they speak in Swatow, but I can’t speak for nuts although I can understand bits and bobs of what they say. I want to learn it though and I’d love to visit Swatow one day. You know, go back to my roots. x)

Anyway, with the month of June being the month Daddy Tan was born, as well as it being the month of Fathers’ Day, I’ve been spending quite a bit of time happily slaving away by the stove whipping up a few simple dishes that I hoped would remind him of Ah Ma (Dad’s late mother) and his childhood days.

The very first dish I cooked was the Teochew steamed fish.

It was fantastically simple to make and really, I didn’t actually have to cook since the steamer did the work for me. Lol. Dad gave his two thumbs up for the end-product and was only happy to wax lyrical about the fish to me, which I was of course, more than happy to hear.

The flesh was supple, perfectly cooked, and the gravy(?) was clear and flavourful. Dad did say though, that my slicing skills still had room for improvement because I sliced the ginger and chillies a little too thickly, but I made a mental note about it and second time round, I spent a good 20 minutes carefully slicing the ingredients thinly. With more practice, I’m sure I’ll be able to harness the necessary knife skills – think Jamie Oliver, Yan Can Cook, Rachael Ray… Chop chop chop done!

On Daddy Tan’s birthday-cum-Fathers’ Day, I thought I’d try my hand at cooking a couple of dishes that his mother used to cook for the family. Now we all know there’s no cooking like Mum’s cooking, which never fails to evoke within (most of) us a sense of comfort and fuzzy warmth.

I spent a good 2 hours in the kitchen to be honest, and being a totally lousy fryer, let alone deep-fryer, I had to deep-fry a couple of items which took me ages!

I made Hainanese Pork Chop (which I know I know, isn’t Teochew but hey! That’s what Ah Ma used to cook so I can’t help that it isn’t Teochew by tradition. Lol) with Potatoes in Tomato Sauce.

The pork chops should have been tenderised more and my chunks of potatoes and tomatoes were a little less refined that how Ah Ma used to cut them but Dad at least said that the flavour was pretty much right. I probably need to practise deep-frying more, or maybe next time, I’ll simply try oven-baking them instead. Hmm… Would be better from both Mum’s and Dad’s health too!

The other item I cooked is one of my favourites! It’s called Chap Chye which consists of a myriad of yummy veggies such as shiitake mushrooms, cabbage (round and Chinese) and black fungus, thin glass vermicelli, dried beancurd skin and deep fried bean curd skin.

This was so addictive if I do say so myself. I think Mum and Dad especially enjoyed this too! I usually have insane portions of this whenever we have our reunion dinners over Chinese New Year where one of my aunts would make a mega-huge pot of chap chye without fail. The best thing about chap chye is that it tastes even better the next day when the flavours of the vegetables get to sit together and intermingle. Mmm…

I don’t know if the food really managed to remind Dad of the food he ate as a child, but I do know that he had a very happy belly on his special day!

Most recently, I decided to make some hearty Beef Stew (Chinese-style) for Mum and Dad after looking over Sa Kou’s recipe for it and deeming it straightforward enough.

With some white radish, carrots, five-spice powder, Sa Kou’s and my secret magic powder, and not forgetting the all important beef, I managed to serve up a favourite of Dad’s who lapped it up and has, for the past few days, been asking me to make some for the family when we go to the UK next month for holiday. I couldn’t be more honoured to do just that!

On rice! Super tender and bursting with flavour... x)

And yes, Mum, Dad and I will be flying to the UK in July for a couple of weeks to visit my maternal family as well as my beloved brother! I’m not totally excited seeing that we’ll have our butts planted on the plane seats for 12-14 hours non-stop and I am not a plane fan, especially when you throw air turbulence into the recipe. I am however, excited to be seeing the family because it’s been some time. Grandpa and grandma aren’t getting younger and it’d be good to spend some time with them! Plus, WHOLE FOODS!!

Sometimes, I get a little argh over going to UK… again, but I know just how lucky I am to be able to travel more often than most. I should be grateful. Plus, this time, with Mum and Dad around, we’ll probably go visit Lake District and explore a few places by England’s countryside that we have yet to see.

Come to think of it, once I graduate and start working, I won’t be able to spend this sort of quality time with Mum and Dad so often so I should, and will, cherish my time with them while I can! I love Mummy and Daddy Tan!!

1. Do you enjoy being in the kitchen and cooking for either yourself or people you love?
You know my answer! x)

2. What are your comfort foods?
Mine are, a steaming hot bowl of congee with condiments (very Teochew),  hot oatmeal because it reminds me of how Grandma used to make this for me for breakfast before school each morning in the UK, PB&J sammies which reminds of my childhood and chap chye because it reminds me of family.

You don’t choose your family.  They are God’s gift to you, as you are to them.
~Desmond Tutu

Much love,
Nat XOXO

.: Ponderings :.

I chanced upon this blog recently and happened to read this particularly entry – ‘Memento Mori’. Coupled with all your messages of strength, hope, love and encouragement, this blog entry also prodded me in thinking hard over what it is I want from myself, from recovery, from life.

Memento Mori is a Latin phrase which translates to “Remember You Must Die”.

Too many people fear Death. They fear it because it is Unknown.

But Death places everything in perspective.

If you knew Death would come for you the next month, the next week or the next day… would you still do the things you’re doing? Would you be working just for the sake of working? Would you be idling your time away? Would you forsake your family for a night of drunken pleasure? Would you partake in office gossip? Would you be bothered by what people gossip about you?

Would you Dance with every waking moment you have left? Would you Love with everything you have left? Would you seek to Accomplish everything you’ve always wanted to do before your time expires?

This Answer, only You know.

When you are Young, you think you have all the Time in the World. You think you will live Forever.

But Time is a stealthy thief that will rob you of your Lifeforce, bit by bit, every moment, every second.

Apathy will assimilate you into the Living Dead that is characteristic of Modern Society.

Only when you Acknowledge the ever-present possibility of Death, can you begin to Live with everything you’ve got.

Why sweat the small stuff?

Remember your Mortality.
Remember you must Die.

And then you will wake up into your New Life.

Memento Mori.

Of course, the context to which the author was writing this differs greatly from the predicament I have entangled myself in. Nevertheless, the main gist of it does bring to mind the need to merely live, but to be alive while Time is on our side. Afterall, as the saying goes ‘Time waits for no man’ and it certainly will not wait for me either.

To dwell in the shadows of the ED is to keep me in a state of half-life – or rather, a Living Dead – and where’s the point in that when I have the rest of eternity to, well, be dead?

Over the last few days, I’ve mulled over many questions:

Do I still want to be battling ED this time next year? In 5 years’ time? 10 years’ time? Heck! As April said, Will these crazy thoughts and food obsessiveness be rampant still when I hit 80? That is, if I manage to get that old…

My answer: Of course not! I don’t want to be 80 – possibly toothless and hunched-back, and afraid to indulge in a good serving of uhm… liquidised peanut butter and jam sammie! I don’t want to have to fear falling down and breaking all my bones in one shot because of severe osteoporosis. I don’t want to not have children or get married because I allowed ED to destroy my social life AND my physical body.

But – there’s always a but. There’s the argument then that tells me that by the time I’m 80, I probably won’t care about how I look, I won’t need to cling onto Control, and with most of my years behind me, there’ll be little to be worried about, so really, I’ll could possibly be stuffing my face with mashed doughnuts and clotted cream by then for all I know.

Do I want to stay child-like forever?

Superlove Scarlett Johansson!

My answer: I sure as heck envy girls who have curves and confidence. I suppose I contradict myself because I did use to have curves.

But, why is it always so much easier to accept the feminine figures of other women than to accept them on myself???

How long more do I want to obsess over numbers?

My answer: I can’t tell you how often I have this argument play in my head – To let go completely or give myself one more day. I’ve stopped weighing myself entirely now but I can’t say it’s a good thing because I have no idea whether I’m gaining or losing. Yet, I know that if I do start monitoring my weight, I’ll end up obsessing so I think it best not to. The ‘one more day’ thing I am aware, will always be pushed back since we all know that ‘tomorrow never comes’. And while I want to let go and return to normalcy, I shudder with fear at putting thought into action. I guess it’s kinda like bungee jumping. You want to let go and experience the exhilaration from just being, but that final step forward before you free fall is always the hardest to do – the scariest.

Despite all my buts’, there is still hope I know. SO many of you have reminded me of the grace and power of God to provide me with the strength and guidance in this time of need. I am struggling quite a bit in my faith to be honest. Or rather, it’s not so much that I question God’s presence, but I question whether I am worthy of His love. Now now, I know what the answer is, but believing in it is tough.

I am especially thankful for the verse that Aletheia shared with me from Isaiah 40:8 that goes

The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever.

As Aletheia put so succinctly, “I know that this life is only temporary, that this body of mine is finite–but the treasure inside, well, that’s priceless. And eternal… It reminds me that all of my self-perceived vanity and beauty, everything that “thin-ness” represents to me, is actually just temporary. Fleeting, even.”

It’s true isn’t it? What we have of our lives here is temporary and one day, we will be nothing but dust. No one will remember us for being the ‘thinnest’ or ‘most restrictive’ or ‘most disciplined’ disordered eater. Instead, if we spend our time leading a life that is fulfilling, one that can touch others, one that is meaningful, then when the time comes for us to be called Home, we will be able to go without regret knowing that we lived our lives to their fullest potential.

Goju-No-Tou (5-storey pagoda): One of the oldest wooden buildings in the world!

Sure, I know that things for me will not change overnight. Just like strong, sturdy buildings, I need to lay down my foundation and ensure that it will be able to withstand the storms that are bound to attack from time to time. And from there, I will build myself back up again. Mentally, I know that I have faltered but still, I am not broken. All I need is a dribble of faith and a dash of hope for me to cultivate and nurture as I embark on this process of mending myself from inside out and outside in.

And you know what? I would not have reached this resolution if not for all of you – and it goes without saying, my parents whose hearts I know I have repeatedly broken as a result of ED. Thank you sweeties! With all my heart!

“Hope is always available to us. When we feel defeated, we need only take a deep breath and say, “Yes,” and hope will reappear.”
– Monroe Forester

1. How do you pull yourself together after falling down – either in terms of ED, or just life in general?
2. If, morbid as it may sound, you were to die tomorrow, what would you like to have done more of?

Much Love,
Nat xoxo