Being thankful in eating disorder recovery is not always easy and, sometimes, it's nearly impossible to find a reason to be thankful. Thankful that I'm still alive? Sure, but there have been days that breathing has seemed more of a curse than a blessing. Thankful for family? Oh, you mean those jerks who shipped me to an eating disorder treatment center halfway across the country and wouldn't let me come home? So thankful for them. (Sorry, Mom and Dad! But this was definitely a thought of mine.) But usually, if you look closely enough, you will find a lot of reasons to be thankful in eating disorder recovery.

Very often, I'll come across guidelines explaining or offering guidance on what to say or not to say to someone suffering from an eating disorder. Though these guidelines are useful and important in order to give those who are not familiar with eating disorders a frame of reference, they can still lead to awkward or hurtful interactions, simply because these kind of conversations surrounding eating disorders and mental illness are never easy to have.

The holidays are upon us with the party season in full swing and it can be a frightening time for someone suffering or recovering from an eating disorder. Most of you must know by now that I consider myself recovered and that I've maintained recovery from bulimia for over 5 years. However, that is no to say that I don't have some moments or even days when I feel more vulnerable to some potential eating disorder triggers; especially during the holidays

I'm often asked about how to come out to parents and family members about our eating disorder. If you haven't told your parents about having anorexia or bulimia, this week's video may prove to be helpful.

I've been listening to some audio teachings by Brene' Brown, a leading researcher on the subject of shame. Shame - that feeling of not being "enough," not being worthy - is something that we with eating disorders are all too familiar with. Brene' says early on, "If you don't claim shame, shame will claim you." How many of our eating disorders and addictions began out of a place of shame? How many of us have allowed our shame to control our lives and for how long?

When I took over this eating disorder blog, I did so with two purposes in mind. First, to offer support to those who are also in recovery from their own eating disorders and educate them on how to make their recovery stronger. Second, to help the friends and family of those with eating disorders better understand what their loved one is going through. I think to this point, I have done a decent job on the first purpose. However, my own fear of "too much" self-disclosure has kept me from accomplishing the second. To be honest, it's hard to put into words just what kind of hell living with an eating disorder is. Especially in the midst of it, when your head is spinning and words seem difficult to grasp. As a result, most of my writings from my worst days of my eating disorder seem to ramble and go off on tangents and almost always ended with the conclusion that I wasn't really sick, I was just crazy and I should just kill myself for being such an attention-seeker.

I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa when I was forty-two, although I've wondered if I didn't have at least vestiges of the disorder when I was a young adult. For a long time, I tried hard to hide my condition or at least deflect concern about me onto others . . . anyone, as long as people didn't guess my secret: that I was anorexic. I should have saved myself the trouble, because the majority people I knew figured out what was wrong with me long before I would even admit it. I often wondered what would have happened if either: a. I had talked to someone when I first began restricting at the age of eighteen, or b. If I had chose to keep silent about my eating disorder. I know — two different scenarios.

I panicked on Thanksgiving Day. It was 1:15 p.m. I felt nothing but sheer terror. I looked longingly at my bed, warm and safe. The thought of facing all that food inexplicably terrified me. The fact that it was my first Thanksgiving without my husband, and therefore I would be alone did not help. I felt as if everyone would be looking me and thinking about how I had failed at my marriage. I also was late. I was in charge of picking up the salad and pies, and I did not have time to do that and make it to the family meal by 3 p.m. The last thing I even wanted to see was a pie. I stood paralyzed in my bedroom. Stay or go? I told myself to just breathe. I said that I could enjoy a normal Thanksgiving meal. So I called and spoke with my father, who said he would pick up the food, and got into my car and started the almost two-hour drive to my family's home for Thanksgiving dinner. And I had a wonderful time.

My friend, Annemarie, recently died of anorexia nervosa at the age of 34. Although I knew that she was quite ill, her death still shook me to my core and made me think about my own struggles and triumphs with anorexia. Annemarie was one of those people you couldn't help but love. She had an infectious, quirky sense of humor and enjoyed hanging out with people and listening to her beloved Grateful Dead. She also was an upbeat person, and was a strong source of support for me. Not too long before her death, she sent me a text message that read, "Always look on the positive side." Millions of people will gather together with family and loved ones to celebrate Thanksgiving. I want to stay home and curl up with a good book. However, Annemarie would insist that I spend the day with my family and friends. And so that is what I plan to do.

Many days I don't want to get out to bed. I am dealing with some difficult life issues right now, and of course the first thing I turn to is restricting my food intake in order to numb the pain and anxiety I am feeling. There are some days that I feel as if this will go on forever. I contemplate my future and I can't see the light at the end of the eating disorder tunnel.