This past week I finally got to go home. My bestie, Jenni, was getting hitched and of course I had to be there–I was in the wedding party after all. Even if I wasn’t in the bridal party, nothing would keep me away! One of OK’s severe storms  could hit and that wouldn’t keep me from missing one of the biggest events of her life. As I wrote in my previous post, this summer was rough. There were days I wanted to go home but after rededicating my yoga practice, the 12 Steps, and making a few friends, I became ok with where I am. Then I realized I was a month from the wedding. Meaning one month from being home!!! That really changed my perspective and gave me the extra oomph I needed to get over this hurdle.




Every day I counted down the days till I was to go home. I don’t know who was more excited for the week of October 14th, me or Jenni. Ha! Well, we were both excited for different reasons. When the hubs and I began to pack our bags the nerves and elation began to soar as high as the Appalachian Mountains I would be seeing. Before I knew what hit me it was 10 AM and I was in Will Rogers airport on vacation and letting “vacation Leslie” loose. I was living life and having new experiences like drinking beer in an airport before ten, drinking more beer and smoking a cigar in a Terrapin Smoke Lounge in the ATL airport, walked on moving sidewalks (I seriously looked like Elf when he did a split on the escalator), and I even got the joy to run into my brother in law.



Jenni and I


Two flights and a three hour layover later I was back home. Wrapped up in a comfy, cozy, Appalachian blanket. I saw trees, mountains, hills, and curvy roads–o how I  missed driving on those roads.  It felt so good to be surrounded my family and all things familiar. The wedding celebrations began and it was time to eat, drink, and be married. Jenni was beautiful and the ceremony was gorgeous. I made new friends at this wedding and am excited that we are both married to great guys and we can continue to got through life together.



Our Picture for the Year


After a few days of wedding celebrations I was able to “go on tour” with Jeremy. I called it “our tour” because it reminded me of the Netflix show, The Crown where the Queen and Philip go around to their nations to visit with everyone. It was a blast seeing our friends while drinking mimosas at brunch or hibachi for dinner. I loved being able to have a tangible moment with my friends and not just look at their lives from the smartphone looking in.  There is nothing like being able to connect on a personal level…sorry Facebook. Those moments of connection was enough to ground me and root me to the earth; to help me bring back a stable foundation back to OKC.



Bogie is the Family Dog. He was also our Dog of Honor at our Wedding.


While I enjoyed my time back home I was also as excited to come back to OKC. I shared with my husband on our Uber ride back from the airport that while I just went home, I am still home. I have two homes now, not one. I have my home home in Tennessee but I also have a home here in Oklahoma. It made me really think about what home means and is. Home isn’t just a place where you eat, sleep, drink, and watch Project Runway marathons. Home doesn’t have to be physical like mountains, hills, valleys, or flat lands. Home isn’t if you have a husband, wife, brother, sister, or extra family members. Home is your soul. Home is where your heart beats. My soul has somehow began to melt into the metro that surrounds me. The hustle and bustle, the sixty mph winds, even the crazy traffic, has begun to become one with these great plains. My soul has began to pick up the spirit that is Oklahoma. I guess the saying is true…home is where the heart is.



I’m baaaaccck….again. I know I keep  saying I’ll be consistent and keep writing but yet here I am three months (ish) since my last post. So where have I been? I’ve been teaching lots and lots yoga. I’ve been doing chores, lots and lots of chores. I’ve also been trying to stay one step ahead of Melvin, and dealing with the loneliness that has surfaced. With each passing day I say to myself, “I need to write”, “this would be a great post”, “you could be writing right now since you aren’t doing anything but watching Netflix “,or “I’m too emotionally spent to do anything but watch Netflix”. Lately though I have felt compelled to come back. There have been too many self discoveries, perfect post ideas, and recently I’ve been encouraging others in their recovery journey. So here I am, watching Netflix (think a British version of House Hunters) and writing my first post in three months. Here we go…

This past Sunday in Small Groups we were asked a question, “What is your favorite comfort food?”. All of us had to answer as a way to promote class bonding and get prepared for the lesson (how God is the ultimate comforter and through his comfort we can be of comfort for others-awesome right?!). We go around and everyone answers. People talk about their mom’s macaroni and cheese, their grandmother’s chicken spaghetti, ice cream, cupcakes from this cupcakery in Wilco, Texas, chocolate chip cookies with coffee,  and pad thai and other Asian noodle dishes (my husbands answer). I was last and it was my turn! All eyes were on me. I was absolutely terrified. I couldn’t think of anything. I eat avocado brownies-not comforting. I eat lentils-I have a favorite recipe but it isn’t what I’d call comfort food. I drink protein shakes with collagen-not comforting. I have sweet treats that I binge on (dairy free ice cream of the chocolate chip cookie dough persuasion to name a handful) but those indulgences don’t comfort me–they have the opposite effect. Luckily the leader’s wife helped me out. She made a really witty joke about how my food allergies keep me from having any comfort food. She has a point, I mean I can’t eat my mom’s macaroni and cheese anymore.




All during class I couldn’t shake the fact that food doesn’t comfort me. Here I am six years later and I still have a hard time with food. I cannot use food for comfort because it will trigger a binge; which will lead to a purge session either on the treadmill or weightlifting bench.If it doesn’t lead to a binge it will lead to self loathing. There are times I really do enjoy food (like the vegan ramen from Goru Ramen in the Plaza District, Ridgewood BBQ back home, anytime I eat pizza, Holey Rollers donuts) but food is still a form of survival. I eat because I have to. I eat because I get hangry if I don’t. I eat because I have fitness goals. I eat because starving sucks. I eat so I can keep Melvin at bay. I eat because that’s what humans do.

Taking this a step further and using our Small Group lesson about comfort I started thinking about how ED’s are used as a comfort. Those of us who live with an eating disorder or lived with one, found comfort in it at one point in our lives. Instead of God, family, music, faith, food, yoga–counting calories, lifting sessions, and laxatives became our comfort. When our friends weren’t there our ED was. When our family didn’t understand us, our ED did. When God forsook us, our ED showed us the way. When we were alone and misunderstood, our ED “got us”. Everything was cold, hard, and dreary, except for our disorder.

We believe our ED is a comfort instead of what it really is-a discomfort. We can’t see the discomfort that our disorder is causing us because we have been so manipulated by its words and the false sense of purpose it gives us. We believe with every calorie it will replace the friends we are losing.  We believe that every minute on the treadmill will warm us up like a flannel blanket. We believe that every meal we skip will save us from the torment that is our life. When in fact its the opposite. Those skipped meals aren’t warm flannel blankets. Those perfect calorie counts and hours on the treadmill don’t comfort us like our friends and faith will. The only comfort we have is knowing that there is something bigger and better than our disease. The only comfort, even though it can be just as discomforting, is recovery and placing faith in a higher power. That is the warm flannel blanket. That is what warms our hearts. That is our comfort food.