(Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind – Andvari // Sigur Rós)

I’m a reader, and, I’d like to believe, a writer (I don’t think the desire to write makes me one, even though I get paid to do so). I’ve read countless books, most of them forgettable, but one stands out as the most important I’ve ever discovered. It’s The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo, and it’s about a bunny.

Yes, my favorite book is sold in the children’s section. It has illustrations. And my younger daughter gave it to me.

It changed my life when I first read it a year and a half ago and continues to do so every day. The book tells the story of Edward, a china rabbit that belongs to a little girl named Abilene. A gift from her grandmother, Abilene loves the little rabbit fiercely. Despite this, though, Edward is vain and closed-off to loving her or anyone else. It’s not until he falls overboard during a boat trip that he begins to open his heart and shift the way he sees the world.

Alone and helpless (because, you know, he’s just a china rabbit), Edward experiences life with other people and places, which changes everything within for him. He spends 297 days at the bottom of the ocean before he is rescued and begins his adventure of relating to others. He experiences fear, anger, sadness, joy, attachment and, ultimately, an epiphany. It’s through this miraculous journey that he ceases to be the selfish little rabbit he once was; it takes the experience of literally being broken (again, china rabbit) for him to truly understand the meaning of love and what it means to have a home.

God damn, I love this book.

“If you have no intention of loving or being loved, then the whole journey is pointless.”

I took the kids to their very first concert last night…

If you live in or near Philadelphia and have never been to a show at The First Unitarian Church, you’re missing out. This place is by far the coolest place I’ve ever seen a musical act. It’s a real church (yep, you can do the worship thingie there every Sunday if you want) but it’s like no church I’ve ever seen. It’s old (established in 1796) and colorful (check out that photo I snapped last night…those colors are real) and the acoustics are otherworldly.

St. Vincent, one of my favorite performers ever, played last night (Swedish duo Wildbirds and Peacedrums opened for her and holy moly, were they awesome.) and it was the first show I took both of the girls, ages 9 and 12, to. We sat in a pew no more than 10 feet away from the stage and the view and sound was spectacular. Annie Clark sounded angelic (wow, I’m totally dropping all of these church references accidentally, I swear!) but the best part of the night by far for me was seeing Lola’s reaction to the entire event. My sarcastic, often-sullen tween was mesmerized. She was happy. She smiled and clapped and sat on the edge of her seat the entire time. She couldn’t wait to buy a tee shirt and when we arrived home around 11:45, she promptly updated her Facebook status to read “Just got back from a St. Vincent show!!! EPIC!!!!!! : {D” By far, it was one of the proudest parenting moments of my career. Now she wants to learn the guitar. Words can’t express how amazing I feel about this.

R5 Productions booked the event and, as usual, did a fantastic job. The shows at First Unitarian are all ages and the average ticket price is $15, so you can take your kids or younger siblings or current hottie out without getting a second job to pay for it. I saw Metric here in the basement about four years ago and it blew my mind. R5 Productions deserves lots of love and praise; they’re responsible for helping to bring brilliant artists to our city at a price that most of us can afford.

Last night was a historic event for my girls and me. We all remember our first concert (mine was Shaun Cassidy in Raleigh, NC). How fitting that theirs was in such a special place.

So this post is a little less about social media and pop culture and and marketing nerdiness I usually write about and a little more about a topic that’s near and dear to me for a few reasons. you can break out the violins if you want-that’s ok with me. I’m gonna hit you with something a little heavy for your Monday. Ready? Let’s do it.

I’ve been in treatment for eating disorders since I was 15 (I’m 36 now; you do the math, ’cause I suck at it). My original diagnosis as a teenager was for bulimia. I went to therapy, grew up a little, went to school and things were cool for a long time. I got married. Had two awesome daughters and enjoyed both of my pregnancies. And then, for some still-mysterious reason, I hit 29 and things went bananas.

I started restricting my diet to the point that I ultimately checked into two programs for anorexia. One of them was The Renfrew Center, the country’s first residential eating disorder treatment facility. Those folks are great at what they do but unfortunately at the time, my insurance refused to cover the complete costs for me to receive inpatient help even though my healthcare providers strongly urged me to do so. Yep, another strike against our not-so-hot healthcare system; it didn’t matter that I could go to a chiropractor and get adjusted for just $30 or have my teeth cleaned twice a year at no additional charge if I wasn’t covered to receive the life-saving treatment I totally needed. So I attended their day program as if I was in high school, commuting to and from their Philadelphia campus for a few weeks before my insurance capped it altogether. Another tricky element of my time there was that I was a bit older than most of the women I was there with (since then, Renfrew and other ED professionals have made great strides to address the concerns of women of all ages). Needless to say, the time I spent there helped, but I was far from recovery at that point.

So it came as no surprise when I found myself struggling with body image issues a few years later.

In 2008 I spent six weeks at Life Healing Center in Santa Fe, NM. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but holy crap, did it do the job. My private insurance once again failed me, but this time my family was there to help with the enormous cost of treatment because I think we all felt that “three strikes and you’re out” was a sad but true possibility. At that point I was a 34 years old professional and married mother of two and I couldn’t afford to be passive in the confrontation of my issues anymore. The time for weekly 55-minute therapy sessions and pep talks from loved ones had done all they could do; flying my bony ass seemed like the best choice. (A quick time out to send my enormous gratitude to Bob and Paulette Estok, the most amazing, loving and compassionate people I’ve ever had the good fortune to know. I’ll find a way to pay you back every penny someday, I promise. And yes, them’s A LOT of pennies!)

While I was there I did lots of reading, and one of the books I came across was called “Life Without Ed: How One Woman Declared Independence from Her Eating Disorder and How You Can Too,” by Jenni Schaeffer with Thom Rutledge, LCSW. At first, it sounded like a sitcom (that’s just my strange sense of humor for you), but I quickly realized that this was a book that really spoke to me. I read it cover to cover within two days. It now sits on my desk, where I refer back to it at least once a week for inspiration, reference or gratitude for the journey I’ve been on.

So before this totally turns into a Lifetime Movie of the Week (Too late? Maybe so.) I’ll explain that the genesis of this post comes from Jenni Schaeffer’s upcoming appearance at Bryn Mawr College this Saturday, February 27. Brought to you by Valley Green Counseling and Bryn Mawr College Body Image Council as a part of National Eating Disorders Awareness Week, the event is free and open to the public. Scoot over here to register and seriously, tell everyone you know about this. It’s important. For realz.

I realize that my involvement and passion for pop culture, media and fashion could be construed as feeding into the obsession we have with weight, image and unhealthy behaviors, but I’ve always been aware of the fact that there are so many factors that influence how we see ourselves and our bodies. I’m no psychologist (although goodness knows I’ve known enough to pick up a thing or two) and I’m certainly not someone who has everything all figured out; as far as I’m concerned, I’ll be in recovery for the rest of my life, fingers crossed. Every day is a challenge in some way or another, but I’m working on it. I’m getting things figured out bit by bit, and I love that each step I take makes me a better mom, a better friend and maybe most importantly, a better me. I love what I do and couldn’t imagine taking a job where I weren’t examining what’s going on on a cultural level. I may not be saving the world with my work (although I am committed to doing good in the world at all times and would love to find a bigger way to integrate that into my professional life) but I sure as hell know I’m making a difference by taking care of myself and making a commitment to living an authentic life that I can be proud of going forward. Don’t worry, though. I’m still the same wacky, tattooed goofball you’ve always known. I’m just a little softer around the edges these days.

And now, when you take me out to lunch or dinner, I’m actually going to eat instead of pushing my food around on my plate. If you’re not careful, I might just polish off your meal, too. In a good way.

The time was 1987. The place; Somerset, KY. I was a 13 year old dork with braces, an Olgilvie Home Perm and a few crazy dreams…

One of my dreams was to marry Ricky Schroder. We’d move to Hollywood and shack up in that swell mansion he lived in on “Silver Spoons.” Another was to publish a best-selling novel. Never mind that I had no idea what I wanted to write about. But the dream that seemed the most doable was the dream of being on the Canadian hit “Degrassi Junior High.”

Degrassi was a soap opera for kids. It was your typical “After School Special” fare, which then spun off into “Degrassi High.” There I learned what to do in case of date rape, teenage pregnancy, parental death and the development of an eating disorder. Thanks, guys!

The thing I liked best about the Degrassi empire (I’m now totally caught up on Degrassi: The Next Generation, now airing on The N) was that they never dumbed it down for teenagers. Young people aren’t dumb; they just act like it sometimes (and uh, so do adults). They can tell when they’re being treated like idiots. Now that I’m a mom I try to take the same approach. My 11 and 8 year olds aren’t ready to hear about abortion but you better believe they know how a baby is made – and how to keep that from happening. The creators and writers of Degrassi respected their audience and as a result, 35 year old chicks such as myself are still watching, all these years later. Their brand works. And yes, I’m still holding out hope that one day I’ll get my showbiz break in the halls of Degrassi Community School. Linda Schuyler and Stephen Stohn, I’m ready for my close up…

I’m a busy bee today so instead of “telling,” I’m “showing.” Here are a few fashion shots I’ve taken that I’m quite fond of. Enjoy!

(all images copyright carrie estok. if you want to feature them somewhere else, please be a pal and give me credit. thanks!)