Bodies

Having anxiety isn't fun, but it seems like anxiety is continuously making its way into my life. And that means I've got to fight anxiety right back. After having my first panic attack in February and then multiple ones in August, I decided I had had enough.

My mother had her first psychotic episode on her 40th birthday. As her birthday bash extended into its fourth day of drunken celebrations, it became apparent that something wasn’t right. I was 11 years old at the time and from then on, our lives were ruled by my mother’s rapid-cycling bipolar I disorder.

It’s that time of year when everyone is obsessed with not eating too much food. It’s like a cultural rite of passage: Will you complain about how much food you’re eating this holiday? Will you discuss how bad you’ve been and how you plan on repenting come January 1st?

If someone you care about is suffering through the pain of first holidays without someone they love, there are things you can do.

My mother is next to me, alternately sobbing and vomiting on the dress I’d grabbed from her floor and thrown over her head. She’s not wearing a bra or underwear. She’s barely coherent. She’s very angry.

I’m a big proponent of teaching our loved ones how, during the holidays, to be gentle with our eating disorders (both in recovery and out).

Whenever I rave about menstrual cups (which is kind of frequently), there are always some people who say that they think cups are gross, or that they’re uncomfortable putting their hands in their vagina to insert the cup and take it out.

Uh, in case you haven’t noticed, the body acceptance movement has a bit of a body rejection problem. Namely, anyone who isn’t a thin, white, able-bodied, straight, middle class, cisgender woman gets left out of the movement altogether — which, in my opinion, isn’t very accepting.