DCD and Barney Butter and Jiff! Oh My!

So apparently today is National Peanut Butter Day. 

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I don't share this little badass' enthusiasm. Peanut butter is probably one of my biggest fear foods. Not arsenic or quadruple fried Oreos status, but definitely up there on my scary list.I can't even remember the last time I ate peanut butter. No, that's a lie. I ate it once while IP and managed to convince the dietician I was deathly allergic to nuts and the hyperventilating panic attack I'd suffered after consuming the peanut butter on my banana was actually anaphylactic shock. Not even kidding. Seriously, if I were able to find an outlet for the energy and creativity I apply toward avoiding foods, I could probably power all of China and put an end to the global energy crisis. So why exactly am I afraid of peanut butter? It can't hurt me. It's food, with no arms to punch or feet to ninja kick. I bite it, it can't bite me back. Just a bunch of legumes smashed to smithereens... Although that is a little gruesome when you think about it. 

I remember when admitted IP for the first time I told myself, "If they make me eat I'll only have the healthiest things." Bullshit. Avoiding "unhealthy foods" such as peanut butter had nothing to do with health concerns. If anything it was related to un-health concerns. My being in a hospital and emaciated appearance didn't indicate much concern for physical well being and health. And my behaviors certainly didn't either, as they were moving my little game piece speedily forward on the Monopoly board of life. Do not pass go, do not collect one hundred dollars. And what exactly was the prize? A death both painfully slow and far too soon. 

Since then I avoided peanut butter like the plague. No matter what happened, as long as that food didn't cross my lips I was okay. It was a little piece of ED to keep in my pocket as a talisman for reassurance and comfort. In the moments when I would question if I was still sick or during the panic stricken hours after a scary meal I would sit rocking in my hospital bed, mind reeling. "Do I even have an eating disorder? No, I'm faking it for attention. Fraud. Fat failure. ... But still won't eat peanut butter? Then I'm safe." But who is safe exactly? Rachael? Or is it ED?

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So where is this ramble headed? Today is National Peanut Butter Day. And while I didn't celebrate per se, I did eat a spoonful of the stuff. It was hilariously pathetic. If you want to get a sense of how the scene went down, feel free to read my summary of 2009's Great Clif Bar Debacle. You know in episodes of House when they show the patient's insides, like right before he starts hacking blood and his kidney all over Dr. Chase? That's what I see in my head and start freaking out over when I eat something which terrifies me. So did I like the peanut butter? Honestly, I don't know. It's hard to focus on tasting something when you think the anxiety of doing so will kill you. But here I am, still alive. And that only means one thing... I'm going to have to keep on eating the stuff until it doesn't scare me anymore. You heard me. Peanut butter. Every day. It's on. 

Dialogue in mind: Oh good lord. I can't believe I said that out loud. Now I have to actually follow through and do it. I know I could just delete those words and no one would know, but I'm just too damn full of this new thing I acquired recently called integrity. 

All things are difficult before they are easy.

- Thomas Fuller