You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘dietician’ tag.
I had another good talk with J yesterday, though I kept breaking off into tangents.
It’s always good to be honest, and honesty doesn’t usually go hand in hand with an eating disorder. However, we both told eachother we had mixed emotions about living together. As our dietician has told me time and again, it could end up being a great thing, or it could be a sh*t storm.
My weekend was not great. I felt out of control and completely in my eating disorder. I didn’t know how to get out of it. Once the work week started, I went back into “recovery mode,” as structure is good for me.
My therapist called me yesterday afternoon to check in, and I told her I felt better about recovery, but still apprehensive about living with J. This whole situation sucks: her body composition triggers the heck out of me, yet we have so much in common it’s inevitable we will become friends. So except for the whole ED thing (which of course is a big deal), it’s the ideal roommate situation.
Ugh.
So I sent J an email, suggesting maybe we check in once a week with how we’re doing, and what support we might need from each other. She agreed, as long as we have the usual parameters of abstaining from talk about calories, weights, workouts, and foods (well, the food part is hard since we cook together sometimes, but you know what I mean.) So it’s a start. Time will tell, I guess.
Last night, I cut up some old collages I had made in treatment, and fit them into frames. I read a couple of homework assignments that were stuck in my drawing pad. Wow, I have come a long way (baby). I can’t believe it has been a full year since returning to work and leaving intensive treatment.
Treatment was the best thing to happen to me. I was in a desperate place back then, and the only solution was to shell out a good amount of money and go to residential, partial hospital, and intensive outpatient therapy. I am a blessed, blessed, blessed individual to have that kind of money at my disposal (thanks partially to my shellshocked parents) and to have an employer who allowed up to four months of medical leave at full pay.
Residential treatment attacked the purging and (lack of) eating. Though insurance only allowed me to stay ten days, I needed that exact amount of time to prove to myself that I could effectively live a life eating an adequate amount of food without purging. I had never gone that long before. It was hell, but an amazing time of growth.
PHP (Partial Hospital Program) continued to attack the food and purging, while attempting to get at the root of why I had an eating disorder. My relationship with my parents was addressed time and again. I routinely was threatened with being put back in residential because I could not last but a few days without purging. Finally, I got through a weekend without eliminating my food prematurely, and THAT gave me the confidence. It was my breakthrough. I suddenly felt that I could actually recover.
I left my residential and PHP program after a total of two months, and returned home. I attended an Intensive Outpatient Program (IOP) nearby for 4 hours every weekday and some Saturdays. The rest of the time was devoted to being acclimated with living without an eating disorder. I cooked. I ate. I exercised much less than I wanted to. This rhythm helped me prepare for the impending “real world” which would include work. When I was in program, we worked on my self esteem, prior traumas, and what work would look like. How would I eat? Where would I eat? What would I say if coworkers noticed my weight gain?
Each stage of my treatment was necessary… for me. Some people I know only did one of these types of treatment. Others did only two. Still others found recovery with weekly dietician and therapy appointments.
The key is to be open and honest with oneself. If I’ve learned anything in the recent weeks, it’s that personal recovery is absolutely essential. Living with any speck of an eating disorder is no way to live. Improved energy, physical health, clarity, self esteem, and meaningful relationships are only some of the fruits of recovery, and recovery is only possible with at least some level of treatment.
Yesterday, I ate over 100% of my meal plan.
I did not feel guilty for doing so.
Dinner was hard to eat, but I got through it.
Today, I’m on track for 100% again.
Things are looking up.
Last night, I had a fashion show for the roommates. I have a wedding on Saturday and a bridal shower tonight, and I have the fashion sense of a dead ant (read: none). They showered me with jewelry, shawls, and girly shoes. They told me what I’d look better in. There was much laughter and shouting and whatnot.
When I lived in a (two bedroom) condo (with five other girls… oh, the memories) during my outpatient treatment, we all handled things so well. We cooked together. We shopped together. We ate together. We participated in anything revolving food… together. And we all grew and learned and encouraged and received encouragement.
But, we were patients in a treatment program first, and roommates second. This is not how I want to relate to J. Unlike the girls in the condo, I see a potentially lasting friendship and, er, roommate-ship with her. So talking about food and exchanges and exercise plans and meal plans and therapy nonstop is not ideal.
But, sometimes that’s what I want. There is no one else in my life (besides a few friends from my support group, but neither of them deal with restricting) who lives in the same proximity who GETS it. sometimes I crave the ability to relate.
So, finding a healthy balance for both of us remains to be seen. But the cool thing is, I can feel myself getting into a good rhythm of casually mentioning ED and recovery type things, but above all being myself and just acting like a goofball.
Last week was hell.
Besides being constantly hungry and sick from a plethora of caffeine and next to no food, my mind was playing insane tricks on me.
Living with an anorexic is hard, when one is trying to resist anorexia.
I had emergency sessions with my therapist and dietician. I tried to eat but couldn’t get above 40% of my meal plan. I was going downhill.
Time for reinforcements in the forms of my best friend and boyfriend.
I came up with a goal. If I was not FULLY back on track by Thanksgiving, I would move out. I have no idea where I’d move, but the goal was to provide motivation, and not actually have to relocate.
The prospect of moving has propelled me to eat. 60-ish% on Saturday. 75% yesterday. And I’m aiming for 100% today.
Let’s get this straight. I don’t want to eat. I want to starve. I want to “be thin” (whatever that means). I want to look like her.
But I can’t always get what I want.
Thanks for the encouragement about my sudden unwillingness to eat. I haven’t been so terrified to consume certain foods since before I went into treatment.
I figured that, though I’m not willing to eat much, I *am* willing to reach out to people. Though I want to be thin, I (thankfully) want to recover even more.
I texted and emailed my treatment team. I let my bff and bf know my obsessive thoughts. I see my dietician tomorrow for an emergency appointment (which, of course, is right before my roommate’s appointment. Oh joy.)
I… don’t know what else to write. I’m struggling. I’m drowning. I’m terrified of food.
I’m hungry.
I haven’t done much posting in a while, eh? There really hasn’t been much to report. I have rarely even thought of my ED, and if I struggled, I quickly got myself out of it (“it” usually being unhealthy ED thoughts.)
But life has definitely changed. The boy and I made it official and are “in a relationship” according to Facebook. I’m happy to be dating him. A week after we decided to be all cute and happy and call eachother girlfriend and boyfriend, I told him about my ED, treatment, recovery, all that.
He handled it amazingly. All positive. All encouraging. All supportive. Gah, he’s rad.
So that’s definitely a new change. Having a boyfriend. Also new on the life front is that I started school. Again. See, I never graduated from college. I worked my way up at my job to a position that usually requires a masters degree, and am now finally getting my undergrad done. On my company’s dime. Not bad.
Also new is the roommate, J. A and I have been living with psychoroommatefromhell, and we finally decided to kick her out. We were nice about it, and psychogirl was cool with it because she didn’t like us anyway.
So now we have J. She moved in a week ago.
She’s super sweet, and has a personality similar to A and I, so we knew it would work. But, there could potentially be a problem.
Long story short, J is in the beginning stages of recovery for anorexia. We randomly discovered that we both saw the same dietician, which outed both of us since she only sees clients with eating disorders. She’s also in therapy with an ED specialist.
But, as you and I know, recovery is not easy. She struggles to eat enough, and usually doesn’t hit her caloric goal.
My first thought was that it was awesome she and I were living together. Built in support, when needed. Someone to relate to. But since talking in-depth last night, all I can think about is restricting.
I am fully set on restricting again, and can only assume it’s because J is very thin and I want to look like her. I want to be at my initial recovery weight, not my current weight. I want to go back to my romantic view of my ED, not the reality of the hell I was living in. I want to lose weight, and lose it quickly.
This can’t end well.
When I first told my parents about my eating disorder, they were most shocked about two things: first, that I actually had an eating disorder (“but you’re not even boney!“) and second, that I was seeing a dietician.
Unless one has an eating disorder or is familiar with the field, a dietician might seem odd. Eating disorders are thought of as behavioral health problems. See a therapist, start eating, and presto! You’re better!
But an eating disorder is physiological as well. The brain is starving and shrinking at a rapid rate, and a therapist is not equipped to address a lot of the physical needs, such as a meal plan.
In my recovery, a dietician was incredibly necessary. She guided me into a meal plan, first just getting me to eat one starch every meal. Of course, residential and outpatient treatment did the rest and set me up with a structured plan, but even when I got out of those facilities, I still met with my dietician. For the first few months after treatment, I met with her every week and was challenged to eat desserts and other foods that I still felt were “scary.”
I see her ever few weeks now, and in a few months will finally be discharged from her care (!!). She is helping me with Intuitive Eating as well as challenging me to cook more. She keeps an eye on my weight, which has not changed and thus has freed me of caring what my weight is at all. As long as my pants fit, I’m good to go!
Remember — it’s an eating disorder. It is a brain and emotional disorder, to be sure. And it usually involves depression, anxiety, or another co-existing condition. But food — like it or not — is a huge factor. A dietician is a huge part of the treatment puzzle.
(For help with finding a dietician specializing in eating disorders, click here)
What are your thoughts about dietitians in the recovery process? Do you have one? Do you think you need one? Leave a comment!
I haven’t relapsed.
And I’m not going to.
Okay, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way.
This has been a tough few weeks. The trigger doesn’t matter (and is a bit too personal to blog about, as I’m still working through it myself), but I will say that it started with a seemingly “normal” therapy session that ended up delving into some incredibly difficult material. I held it together, or so I thought, for a day or two. Then, I cracked.
Binge.
Purge.
Binge.
Purge.
Restrict.
Run.
Purge.
Repeat.
I felt like I was on autopilot, as though there was no way in hell to stop me from performing those actions. And I was fighting, hard, to stop.
That was the difference between the past few weeks of behaviors, and my previous relapse. I could not give a shit before. Now, I want to curb the behaviors and get back on the path of recovery like no other.
I called my therapist. I called my dietician. I made extra appointments with each. I asked for prayer. I prayed. I wrote. I went back on my meal plan.
I slipped. More than I would have liked.
But then I got back up.
I’m still on my meal plan, except when I go out to eat. But this past weekend, which provided many instances in which a meal plan just wasn’t going to happen, gave me the confidence that I could begin to (slowly) eat intuitively again. Without restricting, or feeling the need to binge or purge. I’m back on track, with some reservations.
Perseverance is difficult, but worth it
I had an interesting experience over the weekend. I was out to dinner with a friend, and the conversation got quite deep. She and I hang out quite a bit, but it’s usually on a light hearted, superficial level. At this moment, however, she was really opening up and started to cry about some emotional burdens she was carrying. She then said admitted a few other tidbits.
She trusted me.
She cared about me.
She appreciated my friendship.
In that moment, it finally clicked: I’m not just somebody that people use to pass the time with. I matter to people. People actually care about me. they appreciate my character. In that moment, I made a conscious effort to live as though I constantly believed these facts. The next day, I actually suggested things to do with this friend, instead of agreeing to do whatever she wanted. I broached conversations first. And we had a blast.
I’m creating a voice for myself. And people still like me.
They might even like me more.
So, back to my year in review. What a ride it has been.
August
My medical leave was coming to an end, and I started to freak out. I had been desperately searching for a new job, but no dice. I was doing very well in my recovery, but my anxiety of returning to work caused me to relapse a bit.
I still was in intensive outpatient treatment, but I couldn’t stand half of the girls in the program and their negative attitudes. Such is life.
I left treatment at the end of August, and immediately went back to my outpatient therapist and dietician.
I didn’t realize that living in the “real world” would be so… odd. I was used to 4 months of being cooped up in rooms with a very small group of females, talking about my eating disorder. Real life isn’t like that. I found that it was the only thing I talked about with my friends, because it was the only thing going on in my life. It was a bit depressing.
September
I went back to work the day after Labor Day. I was panicked. But my boss acted like all the water was swept under the bridge, so I took her lead and acted the same way. Since returning to work, my job has been great because, ya know, I’ve been eating.
Going back to the real world has been nice. Life has included lots of happy hours and dinners out. I probably worry more than the average person, but for the most part, it’s been good.
My best friend got engaged Labor Day weekend. It stirred up a lot of emotions.
October
I started to have a lot of anxiety attacks. A lot of that was due to the trauma work I started with my therapist. Fun times.
Other than that, same ol’ same ol’.
November
I went on a few dates with a seemingly great guy, who fell off the face of the earth and never spoke to me again.
I fell into a depression, and started to isolate. I figured that my social life was irrepairable since my best friend was moving to another state in the next month.
December
I slowly eased out of my relapse. This was partly because of health complications brought on by my relapse. Oops.
My best friend had a beautiful wedding. It was difficult to say goodbye, but my happiness for her was the strongest emotion.
I was anticipating Christmas to be stressful, as I wasn’t completely out of my relapse and I so desperately wanted to restrict. However, I ate completely intuitively, which gave me great confidence that I could be completely out of my relapse and into recovery. It was a huge turning point for me.
January has already brought fun and memorable moments. My dietician decided I only need to see her twice a month, as opposed to every week. I spent a beautiful day in Santa Barbara with friends shopping, eating, and drinking. Last weekend I went on a beautiful hike with a friend, and am looking forward to learning how to snowboard this weekend!
Bring it on, 2011.
I’m doing well.
Let me type that again, because I’m still a bit shocked by this fact.
I’m doing very well.
And not just in recovery (though I’m doing better than ever in that regard.) My social life is still in existence despite the departure of my two closest friends. Work continues to go well. Life is… good.
That is why I haven’t been posting. I’m used to writing in this blog when the going gets tough, and I require an outlet to flesh out my emotions. But I want to continue writing when things are good, both to offer support to people (like you?), and to have an outlet when my therapist is not there. Because we are already talking about meeting only every other week, which I never really thought about.
So for the last 17 days, I’ve thought about the previous 365. The past year has been insane. I’ll use that word because “mindfuck” is a bit derogatory. Oops, I wrote that word anyway.
Even so, it helps to look back and even celebrate the craziness. Because my life is so incredibly different.
January
Spent the first day of 2010 vomiting due to alcohol poisoning, unable to keep even water down. I finally admitted to a friend that I kinda sorta had issues with food.
February
Boss referred me to my HR representative. Was put on probation.
I told my (former) therapist that I felt “stuck” in my eating disorder. She told me to buy new clothes because my current attire didn’t look good on me, and then I’d feel better about myself. Gee, okay!
Finally told my best friend about my eating disorder. She was shocked, but the day after told me she was prepared to be my support system and would do anything to help me.
March
I moved a city away, into an apartment with two other girls. I shared a bathroom, whereas I had my own in my old place. I was convinced this would cure me of purging. Um, not so much.
My (former) therapist referred me to my current therapist, who specializes in eating disorders. Not that I had one, of course. I just had a weird issue with food. After our first session, this therapist told me I had a serious case of bulimia. I really struggled with that diagnosis.
My eating disorder to a massive turn for the worse in late February-early March, and never let up until I entered treatment.
April
I had my first and what I hoped would be my last session with a dietician. It was the hardest thing I had done thus far in my pursuit of recovery. Food had always been so secretive to me, and now I had to open up about the most intimate thing in my life to some stranger?
I kept going, and she set me on a “meal plan,” begging me to eat just one carb a meal. I couldn’t do it. We both knew it was a matter of “when” and not if I would enter a more intensive treatment program.
May
I ran my first half marathon with my dad, against my treatment team’s advice. I had a blast. They were pissed.
The day before the half, my HR rep told me I would be fired in the next week. My therapist and I hatched a plan to go on a medical leave in order to save my job (if I’m not there, I legally can’t lose my job) and go into outpatient treatment and seek recovery.
My dietician had different ideas. Within an hour, the plan changed and I was going to live an hour away at a residential facility.
I told my parents that night. My mom noted that I wasn’t “bony enough” to have an eating disorder. They just didn’t understand.
I left for the facility the next week and was in residential for 10 days. I then switched to outpatient because of insurance difficulties.
June
I spent my birthday in treatment. But my best friend came out two days later to take me out.
My parents visited me twice while I was in treatment, and they were both extremely awkward. They were trying to come to grips with this “new daughter” – a daughter who hated herself and had no sense of self worth. A daughter who chose to punish herself by violently vomiting and refusing food. They chose to believe that I had high self esteem and was “doing fine.” The truth hurts, and they were experiencing that fact first hand. I was, too.
June was the hardest month for recovery. I had to re-learn basic skills, like grocery shopping, and eating “normal” meals and snacks. I still had many slips, but was trying as hard as I could to stop my behaviors.
July
I left my facility for a less intensive center that was closer to home. The first day was brutal. I loved my former treatment center, and bonded deeply with the girls there. I cried during my groups at my new center.
Oh yeah. Something else also happened in July. That month sucked.
More later!
