Triggered

I knew this time would come, but I did not think my ability to eat would be crippled by it. Not at this point in recovery, not after all the work I have done and hours I have spent to establish a healthy relationship with food no matter what.

But the time has come: a big, BIG trigger that has sent me spiraling into the kind of severe obsession cycle I thought I would never, ever experience again.

The trigger (let me retype that with a capital T: "Trigger") was a new rule about food in the office. A rule that, to most, would normally be met with the usual groaning, followed by a careless shoulder shrug once the initial venting subsides. But as hard as I tried to do the same and "set an example" as one of the leaders in the office, it was only a matter of days before I slid back into some seriously disordered thinking while trying to function under a new set of expectations.

The motivation behind establising the new rule is not necessarily something I disagree with: some of the desks within our office are in an open environment, and that set-up (existing within the already-casual environment of a college campus) lends itself to some level of unprofessionalism as people chow on their lunches while seating at their desks. Often, students are greeted by a receptionist whose greasy, fast-food smorgasbord is only an arm's length away. Sure, we were probably in need of a "professionalism makeover" in the office, specifically related to the amount of food being consumed at workstations.

Because several people in our work environment struggle to exist within shades of gray, the New Food Rule was presented in black and white: No food present in the office. No food at desks. No food in sight. Food only behind closed doors. The senior staff members (which includes me) are to set an example.

I didn't see it coming at first, but after four days of the following battle playing out in my head, I could see trying to exist within the new expectations was a recipe for disaster:

(These bullet points should be read as one big run-on sentence in order to even begin to understand how this all plays out in my head...and to really walk in my shoes, feel free to play it in your head for at least 6-8 hours a day and tell me how exhausted you feel):

• It is 10:36 and I need to eat my apple and cheese.
• I have an office with a door. Should I shut my door during a time when I am supposed to be available to those in the office? But if I do, I will need to shut it for at least 20 minutes because I have to eat the apple and cheese slowly, because if I eat it too quickly I will feel full, and when I feel as though I've eaten too quickly and feel full, I will not want to eat my lunch. And if I dont eat my lunch, I am heading for relapse...and....and....and....fuck it, this is too much stress and too much to think about and I cannot eat this damn apple in the office so I'm not going to and  just forget about it...
• My stomach is growling. JN and LA taught me this means I'm hungry. I needed that apple. Ok, I will take a bite of it. But when someone who does not have an office door walks by I will feel elitist and horrible, and I'm supposed to be setting an example as a leader in the office and they are watching me...and, okay, I'll take one bite.
• Shit! Someone just walked by twice and I have the apple and cheese out on my desk. Should I shut my door? But I CAN'T! What if people need me?!?!
• Food = BAD
• Hunger = BAD
• You eat way too much. No one else needs an apple and cheese in the morning. Just wait til lunch. Everyone else is fine. You should be too.
• You are different. You are a pain in the ass. You are the exception. You don't want rules to apply to you? What is wrong with you? Why can't you behave?
• Wait! JN and LA tell me I need that apple...shit, it's already in the trash...
• I'm not getting any work done, but my mind is reeling about food, weight, guilt, AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!! Make it stop!!!!
• Now it's lunch time. Shut your door. You're used to eating over the course of two hours but you're just going to need to figure this shit out. You're a leader. Set an example. No one else gets to eat all day. You need way too much food, you fat slob. Get it together.
• (Behind shut door) Hurry up and get this food down, you have to open your door, people need you. You work in education and should be helping people. You need to set an example, be a leader, work harder. Get the food down and open the door!
• Screw it. I cannot eat this fast, I am totally stressed out by all of this (and why won't my brain shut OFF!!!????!?!?). Tossing the lunch in the trash.

....and it goes on...and on...and on...

When the process of eating becomes too complicated, too complex, too overwhelming...it's way too easy for someone in recovery to turn her back on it. And that's exactly what I started to do.

I was, of course, provided with accomodations that allowed me to eat throughout the day despite this rule. Now, I am not a person who likes "special treatment" and fairness and equality are two values I hold in high esteem, so the fact that I showed up for myself enough to even pursue that option means I obviously care a little more about my recovery than I did at this point a year ago.

But even the "exception to the rule" threw me into an obsessive, anorexic cycle that I lost control of almost as soon as it began. The FOOD = BAD/ FOOD = GUILT/ FOOD = SHAME messages started coming on at full force. What if others who are under me see me eating? Will they think I am "above" the rules? Isn't it elitist to have food on my desk when they cannot? And those messages very quickly morphed into:

• Something is wrong with you.
• No one else needs to eat all day.
• You should feel guilty when people see you eat.
• You are a terrible leader if you eat at work.
• You do not need food.

By this morning, I was a malnourished puddle of tears and my eating disorder had crippled me to the point that I could not even face the work environment I love so much. I was done. I could not go in without some serious coaching to convince me that, um, feeding myself is still a positive concept. So I started placing desperate phone calls to JN, LA, Dr. Joe (left messages for each of them) before Big Sis K intercepted my hysteria over watching my hard-earned recovery slide down the tubes under these a new set of expectations and rules.

What the hell. Who knew I'd be stopped dead in my tracks by an office food rule?

Well, apparently, this came as no surprise to JN and Dr. Joe, both of whom have graciously assisted me in pulling out of this mess of a trigger.

JN helped me see that the new set of expectations triggered all the negative feelings I used to hold about food: That I am somehow "bad" for needing to eat. That my hunger is not natural and should be ignored. That eating should bring about guilt. That I must not eat to "set an example" as someone who has a second job in fitness. That food needs to have rules and they must be strict and I deserve to pay (read: purge) when I break them.

Wow.

The parallels to my eating disordered mentality were glaringly obvious once she pointed them out. I have worked so hard to reverse this mindset, but the reality is that the distortion remains and still pulls me in when triggered.

Dr. Joe met with me this afternoon to work through the psychological piece of this mess, which helped me understand this big trigger even more:

*Flashling Lights!* BIG Connection Here:
When I first began working with Dr. Joe, two of my main values were pleasing others and earning respect.

The new expectation in the office related to food put my directives to eat and overcome food rules in direct opposition to these values. As a result, I didn't know which to pick.

IF I ATE: If someone saw me eating outside of the expectation, I would appear as "above the rules", and therefore not please those above me and not be able to earn respect from others in the office setting. Translate to an eating disorder patient: Food is totally not worth the hassle.

IF I DID NOT EAT: I would be setting a good example by following the rules. I would lose weight. I would get more work done. I would have my door open and be able to maintain open communication with my student assistant and coworkers, which I enjoy. Translate to an eating disorder patient: Food is totally not worth the hassle.

An anorexic, if she is not careful with her thoughts, can talk herself out of eating at the slightest notion of inconvenience. It was a recipe for disaster I should have seen coming.

But as with most triggers...I will miss them until they throw me off track.

Dr. Joe spent an hour with me today breaking down each and every message that is in my head at the moment about eating. I now have a counter-attack for every possible scenario this damn eating disorder could throw at me under this new set of expectations. I feel armed and ready to go.

I'll be having a nice (pre-planned) dinner out this evening with LA to get me back on track.

I'm glad it's Friday. Anorexia is kicking my ass this week.

As JN said to me last night: There is a reason recovery is extremely hard. You really have to work for it sometimes.

Ain't that the truth.

How "Recovered" Am I?

A few weeks ago, Dr. Joe gave me an article on eating disorders in which the writer (a psychologist specializing in the treatment of anorexia) pondered the question "what does 'recovery' really look like?". I was asked to read this article and reflect upon it for my next appointment, which I did primarily to uphold my title as Perfect Patient (that statement is dripping in sarcasm, as I gave up on perfection months ago). As usual, however, other minor catastrophes and chaotic happenings popped up in between appointments and therefore hijacked the therapy topic train. Needless to say, we have not yet had the opportunity to discuss the content of article or, more importantly, what "recovery" looks like for me.

I caught myself thinking about this today after the idea of purging crept into my head out of nowhere. I have been, for the most part, eating whatever seems right to me and actually trusting my body's hunger cues. As a result, I have settled into a very healthy weight and maintained it without restricting. I can honestly say it has been almost two months since I've engaged in any sort of anorexia-inspired behavior, so the intense "need" to throw up a bite-sized Snickers bar I had eaten caught me by surprise. The fact that purging popped into my head as an acceptable way to manage my insecurity over what I had eaten infuriated me...I thought I was over this?

Most people who have never struggled with intense distortion related to food cannot comprehend the emotional magnitude of these obsessive ED episodes. For me, my automatic impulse to control my food intake kicks in, and a "mistake" such as eating a miniscule Snickers bar has the potential to send me spiraling into another starve-purge cycle if I let my guard down even for a moment.

So I guess I am not over this, per se. Although I may never be. Like any addiction or negative pattern of behavior, the psychological aspect to the disease still exists even when the behaviors diminish. "Recovery" really means no longer acting on the distortions, coping despite them, and conciously stopping myself from skipping meals or throwing up the tiniest Snickers bar on the planet just because my brain is telling me to.

A relapse into starvation and rapid weight loss is always standing right behind me; I just have to conciously fight the constant urge to actually turn around and greet it when it calls my name.

And people wonder why I need to drink so much Starbucks. This whole recovery thing requires a lot of energy, people.

It's a waste of that energy to get mad at myself when an "eating disorder" thought pops into my head or when my brain tells me purge a miniature piece of candy. The fact that such thoughts suddenly appear in my head doesn't mean my recovery efforts aren't working; rather the fact that I am able to dismiss the thoughts without action serves as the true litmus test for the strength of my recovery.

I used to think (until recently) that recovery meant eliminating all aspects of an eating disorder: medical, psychological, behavioral. I somehow believed I would not become a success story until my life was completely rid all things "anorexia". But in reality, that day may never come. Hence, it is silly to measure success and recovery against such an unrealistic standard. It's really about fixing the medical damage, modifying the behavioral patterns...and simply managing the psychological component so I can avoid eroding the progress made in the other two areas.

Similar to the desire to purge the candy, I have had other distorted "thoughts" recently that did not morph into eating disordered "actions":

• I felt a strong urge to cut my food intake immediately after catching a glimpse of "fat" (in quotations because I am not entirely sure if it's there, I cannot actually tell, as we all know) on my body while trying on potential race outfits at Dick's Sporting Goods the other day.

• I found myself mentally calculating the number of calories burned while running 13.1 miles at an 8:30 pace in an effort to not "overeat" the night before the Pittsburgh Marathon last weekend (as if you could really "overeat" as an endurance athlete...ah, distortion at its finest).

• I considered not eating dinner last night after realizing I had eaten some candy and a cookie throughout the day, as well as a small dessert the day before.

In each situation, I found myself getting angry and disappointed in myself for thinking that way, as if the thoughts alone proved to me that I still have work to do or that I am somehow not making progress. I have even gone so far as to think, at times, that I should be pursuing additional treatment...something has to make these thoughts go away!

In reality, there probably isn't a strategy in the world that will cause these thoughts to go away. They stem from an eating disorder I will more than likely always "have"...like an alcoholic who will always want to drink, but has to work hard each day to fight against from the magnetic pull of the bottle.

So maybe the fact that I...

...did NOT cut my food intake in half after trying on running clothes at Dick's Sporting Goods...

...did NOT use the caloric expenditure of a 13.1 mile run as the basis for my pre-race dinner choice...

...did NOT skip dinner last night even though I wanted to...

And...

...did NOT purge the Snickers bar, even though my mind told me to...


...means I'm more "recovered" than I think I am.

Rarely do I link directly to the blogs of others, but I stumbled upon two of Carrie Arnold's (ED Bites) recent posts that resonated with me:

Marathon Metaphors (uses the last miles of the marathon as an analogy for the latter stages of ED recovery)

Trauma and Recovery (explains the growth, change, and transformation that occurs through recovery)

Props to Carrie for sharing her insight on these two topics. Great minds think alike, apparently!

Untwisting the Lid and Unleashing...ME

As my recent posts explain, the current phase of my own personal recovery from anorexia involves accepting not only my new body, but the person that lives inside it day in and day out. It's now about owning who I am, what I look like, and what I set as priorities in my life. Regardless of the size I am or how much weight I gain or lose, what's living within will remain the same. So it's time to learn to love it.


During this phase and with the help of the unconditional love and support of some key people in my life I have arrived at a place in which I am no longer apologetic for the person I truly am.


I have, many times in my life, apologized for being intense, driven, or aggressive. I have, at times, bit my tongue, held back, or downplayed my competitive nature. I felt as though these qualities somehow eclipsed other, more "positive" characteristics; that I could not be a caring, sweet, loyal person while simultaneously chasing my goals with focus and determination. Seeing these firey aspects of my personality often led me to hate who I was; why could I not just be nice and passive and content?


Well, thanks to this latter "phase" of recovery, I can now own what's actually living in this body. No more apologies. Love it or hate it, I am aggressive. Driven. Intense.


I am also loyal, genuine, and caring. I do not climb over others to get where I want to go. I respect people, and my competitiveness rarely leaves victims lying in the dust I kick up as I take off towards what I want. I'm the first to celebrate the success of others, and I get a rewarding thrill from igniting fire in others and watching them achieve despite obstacles.


So, yes, it is possible to be both.


I ran another half marathon this past weekend (not surprising). I love the half marathon distance, and have ever since I started running a little over a year ago. In fact, my first race ever was a half marathon- quite a reflection of my personality, as most runners start with shorter races and add distance over time.


I will admit that after running my first full (26.2 mile) marathon back in March (and while injured, mind you), my motivation took a nosedive. I had achieved The Goal of running a full marathon, and I no longer felt like the only runner who had yet to cut that notch into the imaginary belt some of us runners feel like we wear when asked "so...what distances have you done?". I worked through some trying running-related experiences in the months following my first marathon: horrible training runs, residual pain from injuries trying to heal, and an overall lack of motivation that, at times, actually kept me off the roads.


But as yesterday's race approached, my natural and innate passion for competition started to creep back up. I really, truly have fun when I run. However, I have also never been one to back down from an opportunity to achieve a goal. This race was no exception, and as much as I tried to push down my natural aggression and desire to kick some ass, the more that flame sparked and grew.


This inner battle between my natural inclination towards achievement and my self-imposed "put-a-lid-on-it" restraint (often self-imposed after someone has criticized me for being "too much" or "too competitive") is what confirms to me that: 1. yes, there is some kind of bizarre fire in me 2. I do not know where it comes from, and 3. I need to embrace it, feed it, and tap into it without apology.


Like so many experiences in my life as of late, I approached yesterday's half marathon using the new approach my team has taught me: be the most authentic version of myself and don't apologize for it.


I wanted to run a kick ass race. I wanted to push it and crush my goal. I wanted to experience a high at the finish line. So I f%&k-ing did.


I ran that race in a zone, and did not look around. I sprinted down the downhill portions to bag time for the inclines. I passed people left and right and sprinted straight through 13.1 miles, motivated by the kind of pure determination and aggression I can tap into when I really, really want something. And I ran those 13.1 miles in one hour, 52 minutes: a goal I didn't think I could reach until the end of this summer.


And the result was one of those great moments I draw strength from: the high I gain not from the achievement, but from knowing I was 100% myself and resisted the urge to "temper" my true self. I wanted to run an aggressive, exhilarating race. I did not care if anyone viewed me as overly competitive, overly focused, or putting energy into something relatively "meaningless". It felt right to me. So I went with it.


When I stopped trying to talk myself out of what felt right to me, I got to experience the amazing high that comes from putting everything I had into a two hour run.

When I stopped trying to talk myself out of what felt right to me... I started to recover from anorexia. From self-destruction. From self-hate.

Almost the second I crossed the line, however, the switch flipped. I had friends running the race too, and my thoughts immediately shifted to them, their successes, their celebrations. Yeah, I can be a raging, narrowly focused beast ("Badger", as my friends call it) when I want something. But I can love like hell too and the most aggressive version of my inner beast is reserved for those who mess with the people who have proved their loyalty to me and stand with me through triumphs and failures. Ultimately, sharing our successes with those we love produces the ultimate "win".

I am never going to qualify for the Olympics or put my job aside to play sports for a living. At the end of the day, competition is just a hobby, an outlet for my energy and intensity. Some may view my approach to life as too intense, and that's okay. After spending the last year learning to embrace my genuine self, I can now see that this determination can be used for good (turning dreams into realities) or bad (starving myself in pursuit of perfection).

Either way, the fire is there. It is part of me, and it's been given to me for a reason. It just took this recovery process to accept that it exists as part of my nature, to harness its power, and to use it to get what I want out of life and not destroy myself instead.

We are just not meant to "put a lid on it". Rather, we are challenged to open up, go for what we want, and put it out there for the world to see. A lot of energy exists under the pressure of that lid.

Unleashing it can help us overcome insecurities, experience memorable highs, and develop the confidence to be who we really are...not who others want us to be.

The Birthday Mentality: 365 Days a Year

This past weekend falls within the Top Ten Moments of My Life.

Other moments that fall within this category are my wedding day, my first marathon, and just about every single trip I've ever taken with my girlfriends from graduate school.

Friends can attest that I have never been a birthday "partier". In fact, my birthday (excluding #21, which was one hell of a bash) is typically celebrated rather intimately and the plans are made by others around me who seem to care a lot more than I do. I'm sure this general downplaying of the day of my birth can be traced back to my rocky relationship with my mother, my shockingly low sense of self-worth, and my general attitude of mistrust in people, but we'll let Dr. Joe create those connections.

However, my approach to birthdays has always been this: Anything involving MY birthday belongs to me and me alone. I do what I want and I really do not care if people do not like it. The other days of the year, I may be a little more willing to compromise...or at least not kick and scream.

Recent birthdays have included the following celebratory I-do-what-I-want events:

• Birthday #28- Spent two hours locked in a local community college testing center taking the hardest exam of my life to earn my personal training certification through the American College of Sports Medicine. Certainly not a party, but I wanted that license badly and didn't care if it was my birthday or not...I was taking the damn exam. The Mr. and I celebrated this achievement with dinner at a cheap Mexican joint (because, well, that's what I wanted), me in sweats and without make-up. I'm certain I purged that meal anyhow, as I was in the depths of anorexia at the time and really was not puting effort into anything but trying to destroy my body (obviously reflective of my self-worth at the time). Happy birthday to me.

• Birthday #27- Phone calls, emails, text messages coming in weeks in advance as my friends try to make plans with me. I turned them all down, persuaded my husband to go on a long bike ride, went to a nice dinner, and was in bed by 11:00. I believe I met three of my good friends a few days later for a casual Sunday lunch on the dock of a lakeside restaurant and that was that.

• Birthday #26- Took the day off work and shopped all day...solo.

There are more of these lame (okay, not lame, but kind of when compared to the birthday nights out my friends tend to favor) stories, but I'll stop there because that is not the point of this post.

Bottom line is: When it's my birthday, I do what I want.

It's no understatement that my 28th year was one of the toughest on many, many levels. Let's face it, when I suddenly realized I spent the majority of an entire calendar year either in the presence of or in constant communication with a doctor, a dietitian, and a therapist, I was ready to bury 28 and ring in 29 with a new approach.

I kept the "I do what I want" mentality when planning out this weekend, but it was taken to a whole new level. Nothing was going to stop me from being ME for three days straight:

1. Friday night: Joint Birthday Party- My running friends are some of my closest. An eclectic group of individuals who would probably never interact with one another under normal circumstances, we share an unbreakable and close bond crafted entirely from our love of this ridiculous physical activity.

There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to celebrate my birthday with this second family of mine, so when I realized four of us had birthdays within weeks of one another, it provided me with the perfect excuse to plan a large group dinner at a restaurant many of them had been wanting to try.

Many hours of laughter and intoxication later, I found myself in the passenger seat of our car (The Mr. was driving, of course, a rare role reversal after a night out), looking up at the stars and thanking god for connecting me with such an awesome group of people who accept the Genuine Me, laugh and carry on with one another like family, and support one another through all of life's peaks and valleys...both on and off the running course.

Saturday- Everything I Love in One Day: I ran a (dehydrated) long run of 13 miles with a friend. It was beautiful outside. In between my "I really need to get back into training" and "why did you do that last shot last night?" thoughts, I felt a sense of appreciation for this breathtaking area and the fact that I am able to spend my weekend mornings killing my legs in a National Park trail system I love so much. Pure. Bliss.

This run was immediately (well, I showered first) followed by an outlet shopping excursion with three of my girlfriends, during which I discovered I am now, apparently, a pretty solid size 4-6 and somehow avoided a total breakdown. To my surprise, the fact that I had to purchase work pants in a larger size did not throw me into a tailspin; rather I shrugged it off and reminded myself that I'm an athlete, I'm active, and that I need to eventually figure out my natural weight setpoint anyhow. My calm acceptance of this situation was bizarre, yet not at all coincidental that I was able to put poor body image and distortion aside when feeling secure, loved, and happy among friends...

After shopping, I kept the promise I made to myself during the Great Closet Cleanout and rid myself of a pair of shoes, two tank tops, a pair of pants, and sweater. A one-for-one tradeoff to make room in my now-minimalist wardrobe for the newly purchased pieces.

Then, another dinner/drinks night out on the town. I had organized this one to include other close friends (mostly outside of the running circle), and met ten of them out for dinner and drinks at a restaurant that has played host to many of our special celebratory moments: graduations, bachelorette parties, births, anniversaries, and the like.The group, some of whom had never met, and I closed the night with more laughter, more conversation, more martinis, and more wine at another nice establishment down the street.

I went to bed that night feeling a new kind of full; the fullness that doesn't necessarily come from food, but is derived from simply being oneself, yet reaping the benefits of solid, unconditional friendships with those who have watched me transform...and loved me even more for it.

Sunday- Drying Out/ Enjoying Some More: Despite my second morning of party-induced dehydration, I crawled out of bed at 7:00 AM to meet the girls for a trail run in the rain. I have no idea where this kind of motivation comes from, but it's just who I am and I guess I don't have to understand it...only embrace it.

On this particular run, M, who is normally a bit of a nature-hater ("Someone really needs to come clean this trail up because it is MUDDY") wanted to climb a giant hill on an unfamiliar stretch of the park system to "see what was at the top". After dragging ourselves up a relatively untraveled path, we found ourselves at one of the highest peaks in the park system. Standing in the quiet rain, surrounded by nothing but the outdoors I love so much, I suddenly realized life is as close to perfect as it's ever been.

An hour later, I found myself (no longer covered in mud and transformed into the publicly acceptable version of myself) at lunch with E., my new coworker and friend. The instant trust and mutual respect she and I have established has been a wonderful gateway into yet another new friendship, and we later joined other coworkers for a theatre production to support one of our charismatic student assistants.

Dinner and a movie at LA's house with her family capped off the day, allowing me to unwind surrounded by a family that has become like my own, in a house that I feel comfortable enough visiting in my sweats, and on a sofa I am known to fall asleep on from time to time.

Which brings me to today: a planned vacation day (I never take for granted that I can take these just about any time I want) and one of my biweekly appointments with JN.

It was in the comfort of JN's office this afternoon that I realized the significance of this pre-birthday weekend, and was convinced that adopting The Birthday Mentality as a way of life will help me walk away from this eating disorder once and for all.

Food (as well as how, when and why I consume it) is obviously JN's main concern as a dietitian/body image  guru. However, as I have learned throughout the recovery process, my actions and thoughts related to food practically rip the bandage off any emotions I'm trying to ignore or suppress.

In reading my account of this weekend's activities, you may have been searching for a food reference: my thoughts as I indulged in back-to-back dinners out, how I used my running to compensate for my "indulgences" or the like. But you didn't find any...because food (and the obsessive ED thought process related to it) was virtually non-existent as I lived out an entire weekend founded in The Birthday Mentality: I do what I want.

I am who I am. I do what I want.

I ate what I wanted. I wore what I wanted. I said what I wanted. With the exception of a few friends who 1. couldn't make it, or 2. live far, far away...I gave time, energy, and attention to the people I wanted, those who take me as I am and enjoy every minute of it.

I am so Me right now, it's scary. But I love it.

Which brings me full circle to the body/food piece (the foundational subject matter of this blog!)...

Without realizing it, I have begun to adopt the so-called Birthday Mentality 365 days a year: living a genuine life, eliminating guilt, dropping the self-imposed bar from perfectionism to happiness. Given how strongly I now feel about this approach to living, not accepting my body for what it truly is seems downright hypocritical.

I can't be Me all the time if I keep trying to change the shell, the packaging. I need to let it be. The packaging needs to match the product...real, lacking judgment, genuine.

The Birthday Mentality is going to be sticking around. JN and I agree...it's the best way to ensure that I am living and eating based on intuition. Every day is now my birthday. Which means the next 364 days need to be approached with the "I do what I want" (read: I eat what I want, I listen to my needs, I put my own self-care first, I surround myself with those who respect me). And on May 3rd of next year, I will renew that commitment and continue on into the next year with the same Birthday Mentality. And the next, and the next.

The Birthday Mentality is about really owning who we are, what we need, and shedding the crap. It's about saving our energy for the people, experiences, and relationships that fall on the priority list on the one day each year when we allow ourselves to just BE.

Being ourselves, doing what feels right, and reflecting our priorities. Not caring what others think. Living as we truly are, without apology...

...365 days a year.