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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.
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 had my second session this week with my dietician today. This time, I had to eat a full sandwich in front of her, since we meet on my lunch break. That wasn’t hard, as I planned the rest of my meals accordingly. But the rest of the session was just… difficult.
We usually talk about food. What food will I be eating over the weekend, what food challenges me still, what foods do I like or dislike and why. Before last Wednesday, I was at the point of recovery that I was starting to enjoy food, and I no longer feared it. Therefore, emotions weren’t as present.
This time, we talked about feelings. And lots of them. And she hit hard on the benefits of recovery and the fact that my long term goals (finishing school, having a family) would probably not happen the way I’d like if I continued down this road.
I didn’t have much to say in defense, except that it’s so damn hard to feel emotion.
I’m awful at it. I’m a 2 year old in a 27-year-old’s body. The last time I allowed myself to sit in my feelings as opposed to using my eating disorder landed me on suicide watch at one of my treatment facilities.
However…
I came back to work, still ravenous. I refused to eat an afternoon snack. And I began to complain to myself the agony of having my hunger cues and restricting. It’s physically painful at times. Then I got up to go to the vending machine. Then I sat down.
I got up. I sat down. Repeat.
That’s when I realized: I want to recover more than I don’t. It’s the battle that is stressing me out.
So there’s a solution: eat. I did. And in a half hour, I will be going to happy hour with a friend, and will eat again.
I’m not saying the switch has been completely flipped. I still want to eat less than my full meal plan. But no amount of stuffing my feelings will compel the boy to text me back, or my best friend to stay in southern California. I’m just hurting myself and feeling like shit, and I’m tired of it.
So I’m going to try to eat. And I’m going to think about sitting in the many emotions I have inside of me right now. And I’m going to give this recovery thing another shot.
Because I’m really tired of fighting with myself.
I think I have relapsed.
But let me back up.
I was supposed to meet with my dietician on Thursday, but asked to bump it up to today because part of me wants to get back on the proverbial recovery wagon.
I just got back from her office. That sneaky little thing, she made me go back home and make a sandwich that I would then eat with her. I did it, and ate half.
I then went into my online food log and deleted the snack I was going to eat. I don’t think she intended for that outcome. But I can’t eat. I’m trying, but I can’t.
There is so much I could have and should have gleaned from my appointment today:
- I eat when I’m around people. So I need to start reaching out to friends.
- I’m restricting because I’m feeling some strong emotions and I want to bury them down. But burying them does not erase the feelings. It would actually be a heck of a lot better if I just felt the damn feelings (of loss, rejection, pain). Then they would leave.
- Eating food and feeling feelings are tough. But relapse is tougher.
Instead, I am at my desk, agonizing over 140 calories that I just ingested. I’m still hungry. But I can’t eat.
Eating means I’m a failure.
Eating means I have to focus on something other than food, which is easily contained.
Eating is not an option.
I sit here. Typing. Depressed. Knowing that I have another half of a sandwich that should be eating, but keenly aware that I won’t touch it. I have 4 months of intensive treatment, $10,500 in medical bills, and countless supportive people in my life which are proof that I know how to get out of this mess. But I don’t want to. In less than a week, the world has turned from full of opportunities to downright scary. A sandwich seems impossible to eat.
I have therapy tomorrow, but why bother going? I don’t want to recover. She’s going to be talking to a wall.
Yet there is a tiny, miniscule part of me that is begging for food. That is begging for these intense feelings to leave. That part is clawing to escape the cage I have her trapped in. She is begging for recovery.
Well, fuck her for right now. She’s not getting what she wants.
