This is the second Sunday evening in a row on which I do not need to prepare to go to work tomorrow, begin another over-booked week, or iron a set of dress clothes. I'm about to begin the second half of my two-week leave from work, and continue working closely with LA and Dr. Joe. This week also brings the dreaded endoscopy (scope) procedure with GI Guy and a Dr. K appointment (not so dreaded).
As for the weekend, things were pretty casual. I shopped with running friends yesterday for a bit, saw "Life As We Know It" with The Mr. last night, and took a lot of much-needed naps (I can definitely tell my body is revolting and in need of some rest). As for today, we just returned home from an annual family gathering this evening, held about an hour away from where we live. The Mr.'s grandmother escapes the midwestern winters by hopping on the highway and taking off for her Floridian condo around this time each year, so we always have Thanksgiving a month early so she can be included in (er, prepare) the feast.
I know the holidays will be here quickly (thank you, Target...I know Christmas shopping is the first thing on my mind the second Labor Day has passed), and I can't help but remember a goal I set for myself many months ago: to have a grip on my eating disorder before the holidays so I could truly enjoy the food and festivities. While I still have several months to go (and thus, this goal is still within reach), it has become evident to me that recovery is not as quick and painless as I had first anticipated.
I remember first meeting Dr. Joe. He said to me after that initial appointment back in July: "I want you to be patient with this process. We'll re-evaluate in six months and see where we are at that time."
I remember thinking "This guy is a damn fool. Give me a month and I'll have this thing kicked."
Well, here we are, nearly four months later and prepping me for an early family Thanksgiving meal requires the careful, intentional, and detailed planning of a military operation. Granted, it is not "technically" the holidays yet, I have encountered far more ups and downs during recovery than anyone could have anticipated, and no one expects a girl to go from learning how to eat again to pigging out on a pan of bread stuffing. But the sight of a turkey and the smell of pumpkin pie today reminded me that the holidays are around the corner (despite the fact that The Mr.'s family is a little ahead of the game), and therefore the goal I set for myself is creeping up...quickly.
Knowing this meal was on the calendar for today did throw me into a slight ED-inspired panic. I wasn't perfect (I fall short of this, if you recall...wink), but I did the best I could considering where I currently am in this process. Here's the recap:
7:00 am- While Dr. K has not cleared me for running just yet (she did not respond to an amusing email I sent her on Friday asking about it), I (stupidly) met a friend for a (fast) run this morning. I did this for all the wrong reasons (I'll admit it! Caught!): I wanted to exercise before going anywhere near the Thanksgiving food (as though just the smell of it may strip me of my muscle tone and turn me into a ball of goo), and I had taken 10 days off running already and missed it like hell. In my twisted mind, the fact that I had to ice my shin for an hour when I got home was a small price to pay for a run, and Dr. K will never know the difference. Wrong decision #1 for the day.
(Dr. K has never called me a perfect patient...so I don't have a reputation to live up to with her).
9:00 am- Made breakfast, one of my two usuals.
1:00 pm- The Mr. makes lunch. I pace in the kitchen. To eat or not to eat? LA would want me to eat. I do not want to eat. I am panicked about the looming family dinner. I finally grab a very small snack because I know I should. I know skipping a meal is a major sin right now; that is an ED Recovery 101 no-brainer. I shove the guilt out of my head. Wrong decision #2 of the day.
4:00 pm- We arrive at the family gathering, and I am hit in the face with the smell of roasted turkey and ham the moment we open the door. Bring on the usual comments (I am used to them by now, especially from the older relatives): "Oh my gosh, M! Do you eat?" and "You seem to shrink every time I see you! You don't have a thing left to lose! We need to get some pie in you today!". Other times I get the "You look amazing! You have lost so much weight!" and I think to myself: Thank you! But my insides are falling apart, I have to pay someone to teach me to eat food like a normal person, and I can't live my life because of my preoccupation with nutritional information! And you think you want to look like this? Yeah...it's not as fun as it looks!
5:00 pm- The buffet is set. The Mr.'s stepbrother takes his reserved place as the first in line and starts to dig in. Everyone is filling the small bowls with salad, then returning for a large plate of the other "real" food. I scan the table of food. There are things I want, but I know I would not be able to psychologically handle it if I went overboard or felt as though I "binged" (which, at this point, is really just eating like a normal person). However, I am torn between wanting to eat according to my current comfort level and warding off the "You don't eat a thing! Just dig in for god's sake!" comments I seem to regularly receive at events such as this one. This inner conflict is a familiar one, as I have had to strike the perfect balance between eating like a normal person and still sticking to my comfort level many, many times both in the throes of my eating disorder and now in refeeding and recovery.
Last week, during a conversation about this conflict, LA said to me "You have to realize almost everyone has an issue with food. When people make comments about what you are eating, they are projecting their own issues and beliefs about food onto you."
I know my mind cannot yet handle eating mounds of mashed potatoes, or a plate filled to the sides with gravy-laden stuffing. I am aware of the fact that even a few bites of sweet potato casserole will force me to fight the urge to purge for hours after we leave. I'm just not there yet, but that doesn't mean I won't be in the future.
While standing there in front of the overflowing table of food, I suddenly decide people should take their own personal issues with food and shove them up their asses. Bring on the comments; I'm ready for them. No one but me knows exactly how tough this battle has been for me, and I have to trust the experts who are telling me to fix it the correct way. Gone are the days in which I ate something to prevent the "Why do you always eat so healthy?"comments, only to end up in the bathroom purging and wrecking my body.
With LA's encouraging voice in my head, I pass over the small bowls and grab for a larger plate. I go against the grain (rebel!) and fill half of the large plate with salad. I fill the other half with small amounts of only the indulgences I really, really want. I avoided the foods that lead me to question the ingredient list, obsess over hidden salt, sugar, or butter, or would cause extreme guilt. I'm just not there yet. I need to do what I can handle.
As I sit down at the table, I notice one of my husband's relatives scanning my plate. Through her eyes, she is watching a very skinny girl eat a plate half-filled with salad and probably wondering to herself whether or not I ever indulge, and if she needs to be worried. I see that look from people often. While the worry would certainly be justified, I know better than anyone that my situation is much more than what meets the eye. Sure, I am battling an eating disorder; their assumption is correct. But what they don't know is that I am closer to the end of the battle than the beginning.
Big family meals are eating disorder landmines, and the upcoming months will contain many of them thanks to our many families (divorce creates multiple families, don't ya know?). While my original goal was to be eating normally for the holidays, today was a bit of a trial run. It reminded me I have work to do (I still desperately want to purge tonight's meal even though I made the healthiest choices possible given the situation), and that fully recovering may not fall on a perfect timeline no matter what goals I have set for myself.
Tonight marks the halfway point for my two-week leave from work. Regardless of whether or not the "Holiday Recovery Goal" is met in the near future, this time off has helped me to make significant progress towards getting my life back.
Thanks to our crazy families, there will be several more Thanksgiving meals over the next month or so. This may have been the first round of Anorexia vs. Thanksgiving Dinner, but it will most certainly not be the last.
Showing posts with label Refeeding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Refeeding. Show all posts
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Cooking Dinner Again
Years ago, I actually enjoyed cooking. Close friends recall a time during which I used to prepare elaborate meals, cater parties, and watched the Food Network until noon on weekend mornings to learn about how to prepare healthy and unique meals. I found stress relief in chopping up mounds of vegetables, trying to make traditional recipes "healthy", and sipping on glass after glass of wine while stirring up something incredible in the kitchen.
Somewhere along the line, this passion faded. When I started to feel an unfounded and extreme guilt for nourishing my body, our refrigerator became a hell of a lot emptier and the homecooked meals became few and far between.
My anorexia is not solely to blame for this shift, as The Mr. and I shared meals less frequently when he started taking graduate school classes in the evenings. The conflict in our schedules made it easier for me to hide my growing obsession with starvation, and I began using my alone time to over-exercise and forego dinners. I can remember many, many nights during which I would return home after spending three hours working out intensely at the gym and force myself to go to sleep immediately, ignoring hunger pains as I felt for my ribs and hip bones under the covers.
Only this week have I begun to recall the enjoyment I used to receive from preparing meals. Having now experienced the struggle of an eating disorder, I do not think I will ever have a "normal" relationship with food. However, LA has singlehandedly helped to ease the anxiety surrounding preparing and enjoying meals this week.
Twice this week, I have prepared full meals for The Mr. and I. Sure, I approach meal preparation as any recovering anorexic would: I need to keep the meals as "clean" as possible, stick to small portion sizes, and create combinations using only my "safe" food list. Nevertheless, I am slowly dusting off the kitchen appliances I thought I had forgotten how to use.
Tonight was no exception. I had already forewarned The Mr. that we would be having one of LA's suggestions this evening for dinner, and he was (honestly) not thrilled at first. Earlier in the week, LA had told me about her vegetarian tacos, explaining that she replaces the meat with a mixture of black beans and corn (seasoned like taco meat). I would not consider myself a full-fledged vegetarian, although I am about as close as one can get without the actual label, so this sounded rather appealing to me. After talking about this meal with her, I realized I could recreate it using all "safe" foods of mine, so I decided to bust out the cookware that has been collecting dust in the kitchen and give it a shot.
I poured a (giant) glass of wine, and got to work. I sliced open avocados and scooped out the soft center. I chopped up a bushel of cilantro and took in a mild, fragrant scent I haven't experienced in over a year. I quickly diced up tomatoes with the knife skills I learned years ago when I worked as a creative assistant for a catering company, and I nibbled on some cheddar cheese shreds before placing a mound in a serving dish I had forgotten I even owned. I set the table with our matching dishes (something I used to fuss over), and called The Mr. to the table to try something new.
He was hesistant at first, looking skeptically at the meatless mixture he was expected to roll up in a corn tortilla. But, driven by hunger, he dug in anyhow. I watched him load his tortilla up with lots of condiments(probably to cover up the taste of the foreign bean/corn mixture).
He ate three tacos. I had two, and ate them slowly, taking in all the flavors I'm learning to love again. We refilled our wine glasses until the bottle was empty. And I, once again, was provided with a bittersweet glimpse of how life used to be; before food became my enemy.
I vow to thank LA for reminding me that food is something to be enjoyed, and not something to be feared.
The eating disordered response to tonight's dinner is not obsolete; I still feel as though I overate (I did not...not even close) and purging has crossed my mind. I started to add up the ingredients' calories in my head like I have done so many times before. I regretted not using reduced-fat cheddar cheese, and obsessed over whether or not the taco seasoning mix contained too much sodium. I have stood in front of the mirror several times this evening and tried to grab "fat" that I swear is there, but have to trust is not. These thoughts will probably always haunt me, but at least I am learning to rationalize them, brush them off as distorted, and move on.
This past week, I prepared dinner using my "safe" foods twice. Next week, I want to meet this goal again, and perhaps aim for three complete meals. I'm beginning to actually like cooking again. It will take some time until I can cook without overanalyzing the ingredient list or eliminating "unsafe" components. But as long as The Mr. is willing to put up with a few uber-healthy meals, I think I may begin to spend a little more time in the kitchen in the coming weeks.
In other news, I received a sad email from LA this evening. I was scheduled to meet with her tomorrow morning, however, she and her family have been forced to move out of their home due to smoke damage from a house fire. While missing my appointment with her would normally throw my Type-A personality into a tailspin, the situation at hand motivates me to do well this weekend without her. LA has done so much to help me throughout this process that I owe it to her to pull myself up, work through my own emotions related to food, and make progress independently. I would love to meet with her on Monday and be able to tell her that I ate well, avoided purging, and took some chances on my own. And I am, of course, thinking of her and her family...I can only imagine how stressful and upsetting such an experience can be. She believes so strongly in me that I cannot help but send lots and lots of positivity her way during this time.
I think a celebratory "I Beat Anorexia" party at my house is just around the corner. Perhaps I'll even prep all the food, just like old times.
It's long overdue, is it not?
Somewhere along the line, this passion faded. When I started to feel an unfounded and extreme guilt for nourishing my body, our refrigerator became a hell of a lot emptier and the homecooked meals became few and far between.
My anorexia is not solely to blame for this shift, as The Mr. and I shared meals less frequently when he started taking graduate school classes in the evenings. The conflict in our schedules made it easier for me to hide my growing obsession with starvation, and I began using my alone time to over-exercise and forego dinners. I can remember many, many nights during which I would return home after spending three hours working out intensely at the gym and force myself to go to sleep immediately, ignoring hunger pains as I felt for my ribs and hip bones under the covers.
Only this week have I begun to recall the enjoyment I used to receive from preparing meals. Having now experienced the struggle of an eating disorder, I do not think I will ever have a "normal" relationship with food. However, LA has singlehandedly helped to ease the anxiety surrounding preparing and enjoying meals this week.
Twice this week, I have prepared full meals for The Mr. and I. Sure, I approach meal preparation as any recovering anorexic would: I need to keep the meals as "clean" as possible, stick to small portion sizes, and create combinations using only my "safe" food list. Nevertheless, I am slowly dusting off the kitchen appliances I thought I had forgotten how to use.
Tonight was no exception. I had already forewarned The Mr. that we would be having one of LA's suggestions this evening for dinner, and he was (honestly) not thrilled at first. Earlier in the week, LA had told me about her vegetarian tacos, explaining that she replaces the meat with a mixture of black beans and corn (seasoned like taco meat). I would not consider myself a full-fledged vegetarian, although I am about as close as one can get without the actual label, so this sounded rather appealing to me. After talking about this meal with her, I realized I could recreate it using all "safe" foods of mine, so I decided to bust out the cookware that has been collecting dust in the kitchen and give it a shot.
I poured a (giant) glass of wine, and got to work. I sliced open avocados and scooped out the soft center. I chopped up a bushel of cilantro and took in a mild, fragrant scent I haven't experienced in over a year. I quickly diced up tomatoes with the knife skills I learned years ago when I worked as a creative assistant for a catering company, and I nibbled on some cheddar cheese shreds before placing a mound in a serving dish I had forgotten I even owned. I set the table with our matching dishes (something I used to fuss over), and called The Mr. to the table to try something new.
He was hesistant at first, looking skeptically at the meatless mixture he was expected to roll up in a corn tortilla. But, driven by hunger, he dug in anyhow. I watched him load his tortilla up with lots of condiments(probably to cover up the taste of the foreign bean/corn mixture).
He ate three tacos. I had two, and ate them slowly, taking in all the flavors I'm learning to love again. We refilled our wine glasses until the bottle was empty. And I, once again, was provided with a bittersweet glimpse of how life used to be; before food became my enemy.
I vow to thank LA for reminding me that food is something to be enjoyed, and not something to be feared.
The eating disordered response to tonight's dinner is not obsolete; I still feel as though I overate (I did not...not even close) and purging has crossed my mind. I started to add up the ingredients' calories in my head like I have done so many times before. I regretted not using reduced-fat cheddar cheese, and obsessed over whether or not the taco seasoning mix contained too much sodium. I have stood in front of the mirror several times this evening and tried to grab "fat" that I swear is there, but have to trust is not. These thoughts will probably always haunt me, but at least I am learning to rationalize them, brush them off as distorted, and move on.
This past week, I prepared dinner using my "safe" foods twice. Next week, I want to meet this goal again, and perhaps aim for three complete meals. I'm beginning to actually like cooking again. It will take some time until I can cook without overanalyzing the ingredient list or eliminating "unsafe" components. But as long as The Mr. is willing to put up with a few uber-healthy meals, I think I may begin to spend a little more time in the kitchen in the coming weeks.
In other news, I received a sad email from LA this evening. I was scheduled to meet with her tomorrow morning, however, she and her family have been forced to move out of their home due to smoke damage from a house fire. While missing my appointment with her would normally throw my Type-A personality into a tailspin, the situation at hand motivates me to do well this weekend without her. LA has done so much to help me throughout this process that I owe it to her to pull myself up, work through my own emotions related to food, and make progress independently. I would love to meet with her on Monday and be able to tell her that I ate well, avoided purging, and took some chances on my own. And I am, of course, thinking of her and her family...I can only imagine how stressful and upsetting such an experience can be. She believes so strongly in me that I cannot help but send lots and lots of positivity her way during this time.
I think a celebratory "I Beat Anorexia" party at my house is just around the corner. Perhaps I'll even prep all the food, just like old times.
It's long overdue, is it not?
Monday, October 18, 2010
Day 1 Intensive: Play Date with Fake Food
Here we are...Monday and Day One of intensive work with the team over the next two weeks.
This morning, I woke up, showered, threw on jeans, my favorite long-sleeved t-shirt, glasses, beloved North Face jacket, and running shoes. I have to admit, despite the way I dress in my professional life, I am much more in tune with my tomboy side, and dressing this way for the next two weeks falls in the "positives of treatment" column.
LA's office is located in a wellness facility that also includes a gym, so it's familiar territory for me. I enjoy going there because I have grown to trust her, can be completely open about my fear of weight and foods, and she respects me a great deal for my drive and insistence on kicking this disorder. This morning, we caught up a bit at first: her relaying information from Dr. K in exchange for my account of the weekend and how I've been feeling. She tells me I look totally different in my glasses, I ask her about her weekend (which consisted of swiping the credit card repeatedly to purchase all the necessary items for her girls' upcoming formal dances). Then, we get down to business.
LA grabs a giant box from the corner of her office and sets it on the desk, brushing away the dust that had settled on the top (LA no longer works exclusively with eating disorder patients now that she is at the wellness center, so it's probably been awhile since this magic box has made an appearance). She opens it up and pulls out plastic versions of the following: a slice of cherry pie, a chocolate chip cookie, a baked potato, an orange, a glass of orange juice, strawberries, a slice of wheat bread, and a rather disgusting looking pile of pasta. I know by looking at them that the theme of the day is carbohydrates.
The sight of the rubbery imitation pasta makes me want to hurl immediately. I start cracking up. Then LA starts cracking up. She tells me to imagine the pasta is of a whole grain variety, thinking this will help me accept the pasta model. I can't stop laughing...it is the worst imitation of a plate of pasta I've ever seen. She agrees with me, shoves it back in the box, and pulls out a pile of equally-disgusting fake brown rice.
"Ok...we'll use this instead. How's that?"
It looks like a pile of vomit to me, but I agree to let it go and move on.
LA asks me to separate the plastic food into two groups: what I would eat, and what I would not. I immediately move the cookie and slice of cherry pie to the side. I hesitate for a minute, and eventually move the baked potato over to join them. I ask her if the orange juice has added sugar. She says no. I decide it is acceptable.
"I'd eat it all except for those." I point to the offending desserts and the baked potato.
I know what is coming next. I now have to explain my decisions. I tell her I immediately moved the desserts because I have no idea what is in them, therefore no idea how many calories they contain. The amount of sugar in them freaks me out too. It's just easier to say no to them, as my mind starts to go into overdrive trying to process through their nutritional content. She nods. She knows how my mind works at this point.
The baked potato surprises LA, though, so she probes. I just shrug on that one. It's been so long since I've eaten one, I guess I automatically moved it to the "no" group. Also, it is a white starch and I have forgotten the fact that potatoes actually carry a lot of nutrients. This illustrates her point exactly...I was unable to articulate why I moved the potato to the "no" side of the desk, so I immediately realize my decision to remove it was irrational.
LA turns to her computer and pulls up a nutritional breakdown of the baked potato. We go through it together. I see it is ok. I add baked potatoes back to my list of "acceptable foods"...and that's that.
Now on to the desserts...more complicated. We talk about the need for treats. We discuss my recent "binges" (in quotation marks because the term 'binge' is relative) and why they are happening. My body is craving sweets. It wants me to indulge a little from time to time. LA explains that the body doesn't care where the energy comes from, it just needs it; and that foods are simply chemical combinations and there are no "good" or "bad" foods. The foods on the desk before me are all just carbohydrates that will eventually be turned into glucose by the body. I cautiously agree with her, remembering this from my personal training studies.
I decide cookies are probably okay now. But the pie is out. I'm not eating that jelly-like filling crap. No thanks. Maybe after a few more play dates with her plastic food.
LA tells me her strategy on handling treats, and I decided to adopt it as my own. She indulges, but makes sure that when she does, it's worth it. For example, if LA is going to eat a cookie, she's going to eat a damn good cookie (not a Chips A'Hoy, if you get what I'm saying) and gets a gourmet one or makes a batch herself. She treats herself daily, but is a self-proclaimed food snob. I decide to do the same.
I'll begin to indulge a little, but only if I really want something and know I will enjoy it. And now it is Dr. Joe's turn to help me let go of the guilt associated with doing so and avoid purging...we'll tackle that during my appointment with him tomorrow.
LA gave me homework, too, and I will oblige because I like to learn, am a perfectionist, and want feel accomplished (it works in my favor at times). I have to 1. Go an entire week without checking labels or googling ingredients in the foods I decide to eat, and 2. Make a list of the statements that run through my mind related to food choices.
After my meeting with LA, I went into work just to teach my college orientation/ career exploration class (the only piece of my job I kept on the calendar this week). My students this semester are outgoing, energetic, and engaged, and today's activities provoked great conversation, debate, and interaction. For an hour, I forgot about what I am currently trying to overcome and just enjoyed their company. Those 28 college freshmen will never know that their instructor is battling an eating disorder, or have any sense of the motivational impact their laughter and jokes had on me today. I felt a little like myself again: creating community, kidding around with them, and helping them learn.
I also went to lunch with an extremely supportive friend, K, and her two kids and nephew. I planned ahead, ordered safe food, and unloaded some of my frustration and stress onto her (she didn't mind and was happy to listen).
I am now at home for the rest of the day, and plan to take a nap, read, and do my homework for tomorrow's meetings with LA and Dr. Joe. All in all, a successful Day One.
I'm just hoping we're done with the revolting plastic noodles and vomit-like brown rice pile for the rest of the week!
This morning, I woke up, showered, threw on jeans, my favorite long-sleeved t-shirt, glasses, beloved North Face jacket, and running shoes. I have to admit, despite the way I dress in my professional life, I am much more in tune with my tomboy side, and dressing this way for the next two weeks falls in the "positives of treatment" column.
LA's office is located in a wellness facility that also includes a gym, so it's familiar territory for me. I enjoy going there because I have grown to trust her, can be completely open about my fear of weight and foods, and she respects me a great deal for my drive and insistence on kicking this disorder. This morning, we caught up a bit at first: her relaying information from Dr. K in exchange for my account of the weekend and how I've been feeling. She tells me I look totally different in my glasses, I ask her about her weekend (which consisted of swiping the credit card repeatedly to purchase all the necessary items for her girls' upcoming formal dances). Then, we get down to business.
LA grabs a giant box from the corner of her office and sets it on the desk, brushing away the dust that had settled on the top (LA no longer works exclusively with eating disorder patients now that she is at the wellness center, so it's probably been awhile since this magic box has made an appearance). She opens it up and pulls out plastic versions of the following: a slice of cherry pie, a chocolate chip cookie, a baked potato, an orange, a glass of orange juice, strawberries, a slice of wheat bread, and a rather disgusting looking pile of pasta. I know by looking at them that the theme of the day is carbohydrates.
The sight of the rubbery imitation pasta makes me want to hurl immediately. I start cracking up. Then LA starts cracking up. She tells me to imagine the pasta is of a whole grain variety, thinking this will help me accept the pasta model. I can't stop laughing...it is the worst imitation of a plate of pasta I've ever seen. She agrees with me, shoves it back in the box, and pulls out a pile of equally-disgusting fake brown rice.
"Ok...we'll use this instead. How's that?"
It looks like a pile of vomit to me, but I agree to let it go and move on.
LA asks me to separate the plastic food into two groups: what I would eat, and what I would not. I immediately move the cookie and slice of cherry pie to the side. I hesitate for a minute, and eventually move the baked potato over to join them. I ask her if the orange juice has added sugar. She says no. I decide it is acceptable.
"I'd eat it all except for those." I point to the offending desserts and the baked potato.
I know what is coming next. I now have to explain my decisions. I tell her I immediately moved the desserts because I have no idea what is in them, therefore no idea how many calories they contain. The amount of sugar in them freaks me out too. It's just easier to say no to them, as my mind starts to go into overdrive trying to process through their nutritional content. She nods. She knows how my mind works at this point.
The baked potato surprises LA, though, so she probes. I just shrug on that one. It's been so long since I've eaten one, I guess I automatically moved it to the "no" group. Also, it is a white starch and I have forgotten the fact that potatoes actually carry a lot of nutrients. This illustrates her point exactly...I was unable to articulate why I moved the potato to the "no" side of the desk, so I immediately realize my decision to remove it was irrational.
LA turns to her computer and pulls up a nutritional breakdown of the baked potato. We go through it together. I see it is ok. I add baked potatoes back to my list of "acceptable foods"...and that's that.
Now on to the desserts...more complicated. We talk about the need for treats. We discuss my recent "binges" (in quotation marks because the term 'binge' is relative) and why they are happening. My body is craving sweets. It wants me to indulge a little from time to time. LA explains that the body doesn't care where the energy comes from, it just needs it; and that foods are simply chemical combinations and there are no "good" or "bad" foods. The foods on the desk before me are all just carbohydrates that will eventually be turned into glucose by the body. I cautiously agree with her, remembering this from my personal training studies.
I decide cookies are probably okay now. But the pie is out. I'm not eating that jelly-like filling crap. No thanks. Maybe after a few more play dates with her plastic food.
LA tells me her strategy on handling treats, and I decided to adopt it as my own. She indulges, but makes sure that when she does, it's worth it. For example, if LA is going to eat a cookie, she's going to eat a damn good cookie (not a Chips A'Hoy, if you get what I'm saying) and gets a gourmet one or makes a batch herself. She treats herself daily, but is a self-proclaimed food snob. I decide to do the same.
I'll begin to indulge a little, but only if I really want something and know I will enjoy it. And now it is Dr. Joe's turn to help me let go of the guilt associated with doing so and avoid purging...we'll tackle that during my appointment with him tomorrow.
LA gave me homework, too, and I will oblige because I like to learn, am a perfectionist, and want feel accomplished (it works in my favor at times). I have to 1. Go an entire week without checking labels or googling ingredients in the foods I decide to eat, and 2. Make a list of the statements that run through my mind related to food choices.
After my meeting with LA, I went into work just to teach my college orientation/ career exploration class (the only piece of my job I kept on the calendar this week). My students this semester are outgoing, energetic, and engaged, and today's activities provoked great conversation, debate, and interaction. For an hour, I forgot about what I am currently trying to overcome and just enjoyed their company. Those 28 college freshmen will never know that their instructor is battling an eating disorder, or have any sense of the motivational impact their laughter and jokes had on me today. I felt a little like myself again: creating community, kidding around with them, and helping them learn.
I also went to lunch with an extremely supportive friend, K, and her two kids and nephew. I planned ahead, ordered safe food, and unloaded some of my frustration and stress onto her (she didn't mind and was happy to listen).
I am now at home for the rest of the day, and plan to take a nap, read, and do my homework for tomorrow's meetings with LA and Dr. Joe. All in all, a successful Day One.
I'm just hoping we're done with the revolting plastic noodles and vomit-like brown rice pile for the rest of the week!
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The Happiest Place on Earth
...that's exactly where I am. In the land of cheerful smiles, twinkling eyes, and make believe.
That's right. I am 28 years old, sans children, and spending the next three days here at Disney World in Orlando, FL. Academic advisors and other college administrators have flooded a Disney resort for our annual national conference, and I'll be presenting a session to a group of them on Tuesday.
Mama K and Family dropped me off here in this fantasy land a few hours ago after I spent three wonderful days with them in Jacksonville (where they moved several months ago). It is now time to shift my brain from vacation mode to work mode...although I do not need to officially transform into Professional Me until 8:00 tomorrow morning. So here I sit, post-bubble bath, wine in hand, blogging away about my time spent in Florida thus far.
I didn't blog from Jacksonville because I was simply relaxing and spending lots of quality time with people who are very much a second family to me. The time spent there grounded me, reminded me how much I am cared for, and lifted my spirits the way few other experiences can. There is something to be said for spending time in a environment that is supportive, easy, and comfortable, and it was exactly the break I needed to encourage me to continue on the path to health.
A very strange phenomenon happened while in Jacksonville, and I'm still trying to process through it, analyze it, and learn from it (because that's what those of us with overactive minds tend to do). While there, I just...ate. The anxiety over calorie counting, food choices, and warding off guilt really was a non-issue, and I ate like a normal human being: making sensible choices, eating when I was hungry, and then just letting it go. I continued to work out, attending a strength class with Mama K on Friday and squeezing a moderate run in on Saturday, but the exercise wasn't guilt-induced or used as a form of purging. I even indulged in some candy (Mama K calls it her daily Vitamin M...she is referring to the large bag of M&M's she keeps in the kitchen cabinet...love it), lots of wine, Starbucks runs, cheese, pralines...all in moderation.
I've been here before: this place where I start to eat normally and indulge in life's little treats. But it has always been immediately followed with an intense urge to purge, exercise it off, or starve for a few days in an effort to turn it around (which physiologically doesn't even make sense...but therein lies the disease). This time around, while I will admit that I spent several minutes critically examining my body in the mirror after my bubble bath, I was able to talk back to that menacing eating disorder voice and not act upon it. I had let my food-restricting guard down a little while enjoying my time with a family I love dearly, and, surprisingly, I am handling it well so far.
What does this all mean? Was I relaxed and feeling "safe" enough to let go of the control? Am I making strides towards a long-term recovery? I'm not sure what it all means, but I am glad food wasn't the #1 thing on my mind during the first three days of this trip. It allowed much more time for laughing, joking, and catching up. Perhaps I am getting closer to my own version of the Happiest Place on Earth.
I have three days left here in Florida, and I hope to keep this pattern going as much as possible. Now that I am alone and without the distraction of company, I have started to feel the need to restrict a little more. But I intend to go back to following LA's meal plan exactly over the next few days and try to remove as much anxiety and emotion as possible out of eating.
I'm here until Wednesday evening, and when I return home, I will be meeting with both LA and Dr. Joe on Thursday. I am hoping they can help me figure out why my fear of food seemed to diminish temporarily while in Jacksonville. And if we can figure out the recipe for this success, maybe I can begin to create it on my own back home. After all, no one ever said there has to be one Happiest Place on Earth.
Off to dream of princes, fairy tales, and mice with oversized ears...
That's right. I am 28 years old, sans children, and spending the next three days here at Disney World in Orlando, FL. Academic advisors and other college administrators have flooded a Disney resort for our annual national conference, and I'll be presenting a session to a group of them on Tuesday.
Mama K and Family dropped me off here in this fantasy land a few hours ago after I spent three wonderful days with them in Jacksonville (where they moved several months ago). It is now time to shift my brain from vacation mode to work mode...although I do not need to officially transform into Professional Me until 8:00 tomorrow morning. So here I sit, post-bubble bath, wine in hand, blogging away about my time spent in Florida thus far.
I didn't blog from Jacksonville because I was simply relaxing and spending lots of quality time with people who are very much a second family to me. The time spent there grounded me, reminded me how much I am cared for, and lifted my spirits the way few other experiences can. There is something to be said for spending time in a environment that is supportive, easy, and comfortable, and it was exactly the break I needed to encourage me to continue on the path to health.
A very strange phenomenon happened while in Jacksonville, and I'm still trying to process through it, analyze it, and learn from it (because that's what those of us with overactive minds tend to do). While there, I just...ate. The anxiety over calorie counting, food choices, and warding off guilt really was a non-issue, and I ate like a normal human being: making sensible choices, eating when I was hungry, and then just letting it go. I continued to work out, attending a strength class with Mama K on Friday and squeezing a moderate run in on Saturday, but the exercise wasn't guilt-induced or used as a form of purging. I even indulged in some candy (Mama K calls it her daily Vitamin M...she is referring to the large bag of M&M's she keeps in the kitchen cabinet...love it), lots of wine, Starbucks runs, cheese, pralines...all in moderation.
I've been here before: this place where I start to eat normally and indulge in life's little treats. But it has always been immediately followed with an intense urge to purge, exercise it off, or starve for a few days in an effort to turn it around (which physiologically doesn't even make sense...but therein lies the disease). This time around, while I will admit that I spent several minutes critically examining my body in the mirror after my bubble bath, I was able to talk back to that menacing eating disorder voice and not act upon it. I had let my food-restricting guard down a little while enjoying my time with a family I love dearly, and, surprisingly, I am handling it well so far.
What does this all mean? Was I relaxed and feeling "safe" enough to let go of the control? Am I making strides towards a long-term recovery? I'm not sure what it all means, but I am glad food wasn't the #1 thing on my mind during the first three days of this trip. It allowed much more time for laughing, joking, and catching up. Perhaps I am getting closer to my own version of the Happiest Place on Earth.
I have three days left here in Florida, and I hope to keep this pattern going as much as possible. Now that I am alone and without the distraction of company, I have started to feel the need to restrict a little more. But I intend to go back to following LA's meal plan exactly over the next few days and try to remove as much anxiety and emotion as possible out of eating.
I'm here until Wednesday evening, and when I return home, I will be meeting with both LA and Dr. Joe on Thursday. I am hoping they can help me figure out why my fear of food seemed to diminish temporarily while in Jacksonville. And if we can figure out the recipe for this success, maybe I can begin to create it on my own back home. After all, no one ever said there has to be one Happiest Place on Earth.
Off to dream of princes, fairy tales, and mice with oversized ears...
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Third Time's a Charm
Sadly, for every person who triumphs over an eating disorder, there are many more who will relapse. It's a very tough cycle to break, and just as with any addiction, the behaviors associated with the ED will find their way to the surface during times of stress or insecurity. It's up to the patient to determine what is going to throw her back into relapse and then lean to fight like hell when the eating disorder voice starts to creep in again.
When it comes to eating disorder recovery, the progress is not always measured by how many pounds someone has gained, how many calories the patient is consuming, and whether or not the person is purging or overexercising. Sometimes simply being able to recognize a pattern is an accomplishment in and of itself.
LA and I have uncovered one of those patterns: my struggle to overcome the stage in refeeding when my metabolism kicks in and my body wants more food. Since I'm in the thick of it right now, I know I need to be on the lookout for the potential relapse that is lurking around the corner, waiting to attack.
The hunger pains and cravings I'm feeling right now are not entirely new to me; this is the third time I have reached this point in refeeding. My metabolism is re-energized, my body is screaming for more fuel, and my brain is a running soundtrack repeating "food. food. food. food. fooooood."
I've been at this stage twice now, but have yet to come out on the other side:
Metabolism Wake-Up Stage Failure #1:
When I first met LA, we started to build my meal plan slowly, and I responded remarkably well. I (naively...such a refeeding novice at that point...ha!) thought I had kicked my eating disorder's ass in record time, and spent a few days satisfying my newfound hunger with all kinds of foods from my self-imposed "Not Acceptable" list. After convincing LA I was ready for challenges, I nonchalantly ate a buffalo chicken wrap in our campus dining area (once a beloved and regular lunch before I started restricting). I then had a celebratory dinner out with The Mr. after he received a big raise at work. I ordered some kind of pasta dish and had a random, emotional, only-in-ED-recovery-world moment when my former hospital dietitian saw me from across the restaurant (chowing on pasta like a normal human being) and gushed about my progress.
That same weekend, I actually ate a cupcake too. I remember texting Mama K about it, as a matter of fact...it's practically reason for a champagne toast when a recovering anorexic downs a sugar-crusted cupcake.
Days later, when the guilt set in and I was convinced those indulgences had left me out of shape (despite having exercised intensely for well over 10 hours that week), given me a giant muffin top (while still swimming in the smallest size jeans on the market), and added 10 pounds to my frame (all in my imagination), I went right back to eating like a rabbit and throwing it all back up.
Back to starting the process all over again. And then...
Metabolism Wake-Up Stage Failure #2:
Nashville. In the middle of Epic Hunger and Craving Stage #2, no control over food due to travel, and with my best friends (where eating is literally a hobby).
We check into the Double Tree Nashville and are presented with their famous and free fresh, warm, gooey Double Tree cookies. While I want to shove the whole thing in my mouth immediately and ask for three more, I stuff it in my purse and try to eat it a bit at a time as we walk around downtown. We head out to lunch, and I sneak a few of L's sweet potato fries because they look amazing, and I'm, well, famished. The next night, I convince myself I'm at peace with my eating disorder (foolishly thinking I can ignore the guilt and automatic response that comes after indulging) and chow on a nacho appetizer at the Hard Rock. Starbucks too. And another cookie at the hotel. What the hell.
Not to mention the lack of discipline and calorie-counting when downing the wine, shots, and beer.
A few days later, I'm in tears in LA's office: "I failed again. Purged all weekend and now not eating anymore."
Back to square one...
Which brings me to the present: Metabolism Wake-Up Stage #3 (Trying to Avoid Failure):
As a result of a great phone conversation with LA yesterday afternoon, I now understand why this stage has been such a roadblock for me:
1. I jump ahead. The achiever in me likes to accomplish one goal, set the next one higher, and immediately begin working towards it. This has caused me to go from just plain eating again to eating "challenge" foods way too soon (Me: Well, I'm eating three small meals again...I'll bet I'm strong enough to down a large pizza!")
2. I genuinely like food. Surprising, I know. But in my pre-anorexia life, used to love to indulge in pretty much anything in moderation. So while my intense willpower helps me ward off most cravings, when a particular urge comes on really, really strong, I sometimes give in without preparing myself to overcome the psychological torture that will follow.
3. A reliance on purging. It's sad, but true. I went down the purging route before I went down the starvation route. It has never really bothered me to throw up after eating something I can't handle (um, that would be why I'm in treatment for an eating disorder...). If I indulge, I don't yet have the coping skills to just let it be. This starts the cycle of purging, restricting, and starving all over again. And we end up back at the starting point.
#3, in my opinion, is the one I need to tackle with Dr. Joe in a big way this week. This time, it has GOT to be different. This time, we will get over this roadblock and I'll finally get to see what is on the other side. Stay tuned...
Every goal has roadblocks. Learning happens when the following questions are asked: What are your goals? What have been your roadblocks? And do you understand what is standing in your way?
When it comes to eating disorder recovery, the progress is not always measured by how many pounds someone has gained, how many calories the patient is consuming, and whether or not the person is purging or overexercising. Sometimes simply being able to recognize a pattern is an accomplishment in and of itself.
LA and I have uncovered one of those patterns: my struggle to overcome the stage in refeeding when my metabolism kicks in and my body wants more food. Since I'm in the thick of it right now, I know I need to be on the lookout for the potential relapse that is lurking around the corner, waiting to attack.
The hunger pains and cravings I'm feeling right now are not entirely new to me; this is the third time I have reached this point in refeeding. My metabolism is re-energized, my body is screaming for more fuel, and my brain is a running soundtrack repeating "food. food. food. food. fooooood."
I've been at this stage twice now, but have yet to come out on the other side:
Metabolism Wake-Up Stage Failure #1:
When I first met LA, we started to build my meal plan slowly, and I responded remarkably well. I (naively...such a refeeding novice at that point...ha!) thought I had kicked my eating disorder's ass in record time, and spent a few days satisfying my newfound hunger with all kinds of foods from my self-imposed "Not Acceptable" list. After convincing LA I was ready for challenges, I nonchalantly ate a buffalo chicken wrap in our campus dining area (once a beloved and regular lunch before I started restricting). I then had a celebratory dinner out with The Mr. after he received a big raise at work. I ordered some kind of pasta dish and had a random, emotional, only-in-ED-recovery-world moment when my former hospital dietitian saw me from across the restaurant (chowing on pasta like a normal human being) and gushed about my progress.
That same weekend, I actually ate a cupcake too. I remember texting Mama K about it, as a matter of fact...it's practically reason for a champagne toast when a recovering anorexic downs a sugar-crusted cupcake.
Days later, when the guilt set in and I was convinced those indulgences had left me out of shape (despite having exercised intensely for well over 10 hours that week), given me a giant muffin top (while still swimming in the smallest size jeans on the market), and added 10 pounds to my frame (all in my imagination), I went right back to eating like a rabbit and throwing it all back up.
Back to starting the process all over again. And then...
Metabolism Wake-Up Stage Failure #2:
Nashville. In the middle of Epic Hunger and Craving Stage #2, no control over food due to travel, and with my best friends (where eating is literally a hobby).
We check into the Double Tree Nashville and are presented with their famous and free fresh, warm, gooey Double Tree cookies. While I want to shove the whole thing in my mouth immediately and ask for three more, I stuff it in my purse and try to eat it a bit at a time as we walk around downtown. We head out to lunch, and I sneak a few of L's sweet potato fries because they look amazing, and I'm, well, famished. The next night, I convince myself I'm at peace with my eating disorder (foolishly thinking I can ignore the guilt and automatic response that comes after indulging) and chow on a nacho appetizer at the Hard Rock. Starbucks too. And another cookie at the hotel. What the hell.
Not to mention the lack of discipline and calorie-counting when downing the wine, shots, and beer.
A few days later, I'm in tears in LA's office: "I failed again. Purged all weekend and now not eating anymore."
Back to square one...
Which brings me to the present: Metabolism Wake-Up Stage #3 (Trying to Avoid Failure):
As a result of a great phone conversation with LA yesterday afternoon, I now understand why this stage has been such a roadblock for me:
1. I jump ahead. The achiever in me likes to accomplish one goal, set the next one higher, and immediately begin working towards it. This has caused me to go from just plain eating again to eating "challenge" foods way too soon (Me: Well, I'm eating three small meals again...I'll bet I'm strong enough to down a large pizza!")
2. I genuinely like food. Surprising, I know. But in my pre-anorexia life, used to love to indulge in pretty much anything in moderation. So while my intense willpower helps me ward off most cravings, when a particular urge comes on really, really strong, I sometimes give in without preparing myself to overcome the psychological torture that will follow.
3. A reliance on purging. It's sad, but true. I went down the purging route before I went down the starvation route. It has never really bothered me to throw up after eating something I can't handle (um, that would be why I'm in treatment for an eating disorder...). If I indulge, I don't yet have the coping skills to just let it be. This starts the cycle of purging, restricting, and starving all over again. And we end up back at the starting point.
#3, in my opinion, is the one I need to tackle with Dr. Joe in a big way this week. This time, it has GOT to be different. This time, we will get over this roadblock and I'll finally get to see what is on the other side. Stay tuned...
Every goal has roadblocks. Learning happens when the following questions are asked: What are your goals? What have been your roadblocks? And do you understand what is standing in your way?
Monday, September 20, 2010
Hello, Hunger...Where Have You Been?
Suddenly, everything edible sounds amazing and all I want to do is tackle all kinds of food with the biggest fork on the planet. Actually, screw the fork. I would use my hands if I had to.
Earlier today, I would have given my first born for a chocolate peanut butter milkshake. That craving morphed into cupcakes around lunchtime, Taco Bell's cheesy gordita crunch in the late afternoon, and Bob Evans' biscuits on the drive home from work. Somewhere along the line, thoughts of Heath bar blizzards, mashed potatoes, and Thanksgiving stuffing crept into my imagination and came on so strong I considered calling LA and having her meet me at her office for an emergency pig-out appointment (I would love to have seen her face had I actually proposed that).
All of these intense cravings can only mean one thing...my metabolism is starting to kick back into high gear and hunger cues are knocking at the door- and not lightly.
I sent a text to Mama K today that described my intense need for cupcakes, fat-laden trash from Taco Bell, and random breakfast biscuits.
She texted back: "Hey, that's what the rest of us feel like on a daily basis!"
I guess this means I'm coming back to life.
One would think I would have experienced cravings while restricting and starving, but that was never really the case. After a while, food starting to look so unappetizing it was easy to ignore. My body no longer wanted the nourishment, and my metabolism had slowed to a screeching halt. After repeated purging episodes, it became difficult to keep food down even without intentionally vomiting. My body had literally begun to reject food. Given how sick my body had become, the fact that I have now turned into a hunger-driven monster is a significant sign of progress and healing.
So you're thinking "Great! You've kicked anorexia's ass! Now go get yourself a biscuit and some processed nacho cheese sauce and indulge like the rest of us!"
Not so simple. My body may want the junk, but my mind simply cannot handle it. Within minutes of indulging, I know I would be crouched over a toilet throwing up each and every bit, tears rolling down my face and cursing myself for not having the discipline to just stay away. And then I would lace up my running shoes and go out for a punishing run, just to finish it off. And thus the cycle would start all over again.
This morning during our regular appointment, I got rave reviews for my food intake over the last several days. While LA is beside herself with joy (and I loved it because I get such a kick out of making her proud), we have a long way to go before I can comfortably digest a cupcake and think to myself "That was delicious. Moving on...". The truth is that, while the return of hunger cues is reason for a celebratory chocolate peanut butter shake or a run for the border, it's still going to be awhile before I can give in to the cravings and truly enjoy life's little pleasures.
For now, I'll be sticking to my list of 10 or so "safe" foods and trying to keep the urges at bay until I know I can indulge guilt-free. I suppose all good things in life are worth the wait, aren't they?
Earlier today, I would have given my first born for a chocolate peanut butter milkshake. That craving morphed into cupcakes around lunchtime, Taco Bell's cheesy gordita crunch in the late afternoon, and Bob Evans' biscuits on the drive home from work. Somewhere along the line, thoughts of Heath bar blizzards, mashed potatoes, and Thanksgiving stuffing crept into my imagination and came on so strong I considered calling LA and having her meet me at her office for an emergency pig-out appointment (I would love to have seen her face had I actually proposed that).
All of these intense cravings can only mean one thing...my metabolism is starting to kick back into high gear and hunger cues are knocking at the door- and not lightly.
I sent a text to Mama K today that described my intense need for cupcakes, fat-laden trash from Taco Bell, and random breakfast biscuits.
She texted back: "Hey, that's what the rest of us feel like on a daily basis!"
I guess this means I'm coming back to life.
One would think I would have experienced cravings while restricting and starving, but that was never really the case. After a while, food starting to look so unappetizing it was easy to ignore. My body no longer wanted the nourishment, and my metabolism had slowed to a screeching halt. After repeated purging episodes, it became difficult to keep food down even without intentionally vomiting. My body had literally begun to reject food. Given how sick my body had become, the fact that I have now turned into a hunger-driven monster is a significant sign of progress and healing.
So you're thinking "Great! You've kicked anorexia's ass! Now go get yourself a biscuit and some processed nacho cheese sauce and indulge like the rest of us!"
Not so simple. My body may want the junk, but my mind simply cannot handle it. Within minutes of indulging, I know I would be crouched over a toilet throwing up each and every bit, tears rolling down my face and cursing myself for not having the discipline to just stay away. And then I would lace up my running shoes and go out for a punishing run, just to finish it off. And thus the cycle would start all over again.
This morning during our regular appointment, I got rave reviews for my food intake over the last several days. While LA is beside herself with joy (and I loved it because I get such a kick out of making her proud), we have a long way to go before I can comfortably digest a cupcake and think to myself "That was delicious. Moving on...". The truth is that, while the return of hunger cues is reason for a celebratory chocolate peanut butter shake or a run for the border, it's still going to be awhile before I can give in to the cravings and truly enjoy life's little pleasures.
For now, I'll be sticking to my list of 10 or so "safe" foods and trying to keep the urges at bay until I know I can indulge guilt-free. I suppose all good things in life are worth the wait, aren't they?
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Chicken, Broccoli, Rice, and 13.1
I am in bed at the moment, having just got home from a bonfire with members of my running club. Considering I ran a pretty speedy half marathon this morning (for fun...as a training run...no medal involved...hate that...) and it is now past midnight (I don't know why the time stamp on my blog is off. I need to fix that at some point), I'm pretty beat. I did, however, want to follow up after my last post.
Several weeks ago, a missed meal (example: Friday's lunch and The Turkey Sandwich Incident) would have evolved into missed dinner, super-long workout fueled by nothing the next morning, resisting breakfast,another missed lunch...perhaps a "binge" on some soup or something else that really doesn't count as a meal, followed by self-induced vomiting...guilt, tears...
You get the idea.
Friday night's dinner was surprisingly uneventful, especially after the lunch incident. I came home to an empty house (The Mr. is in NYC visiting his best friend from college), and I was actually looking forward to some rare solo downtime. I changed into my sweats, threw my hair up in a ponytail, and proceeded to prepare grilled chicken, steamed broccoli, and brown and wild rice.
I have had this dinner four times this week. LA's goal for the week: just eat. Even if it's the same meal repeatedly. Known in the recovery process as "safe" meals, certain meals have the ability to transform an eating disordered person into an eating robot. There is no thought process, emotion, or over-thinking involved. For me, it has become the standard chicken-broccoli-rice combo.
I sat in front of the television in my finished basement, watching in awe as the Real Housewives of New Jersey verbally (and physically too...what if we all acted like that?!) attack one another on their reunion show. The TV provided distraction as I, emotionless and completely robotic, polished off the meal one bite at a time.
Whenever my mind told me to stop eating or to go get rid of what had already passed through my mouth, I just kept reminding myself: "You have to run 13 miles in the morning. If you do not eat this, your running club friends will need to scrape your body off the road and haul your ass into the ER."
Now, I do realize that there will not always been a 13-mile run scheduled for the next morning to force me to fuel my body properly. I am not so naive to think that this is even remotely close to a healthy thought process. However, on a day like Friday, when food is the enemy and the eating disorder voice is barking in my ear, anything that forces me to eat a meal is a fair game.
So I got back on track. I earned the right to record a succcessful dinner in the food log that LA will review on Monday morning. The big blank spot for Friday lunch will be a discussion point (no doubt), but at least I redeemed myself by eating an actual dinner.
Near mile 11 this morning, I experienced a bit of a runner's high- which I love. Those moments always remind me why I need to get healthy again: the rewarding experience of training with friends, the thrill of competition, and the personal satisfaction of pushing beyond limitations are the things I live for.
I want know that my body is strong enough to allow me those moments.
Several weeks ago, a missed meal (example: Friday's lunch and The Turkey Sandwich Incident) would have evolved into missed dinner, super-long workout fueled by nothing the next morning, resisting breakfast,another missed lunch...perhaps a "binge" on some soup or something else that really doesn't count as a meal, followed by self-induced vomiting...guilt, tears...
You get the idea.
Friday night's dinner was surprisingly uneventful, especially after the lunch incident. I came home to an empty house (The Mr. is in NYC visiting his best friend from college), and I was actually looking forward to some rare solo downtime. I changed into my sweats, threw my hair up in a ponytail, and proceeded to prepare grilled chicken, steamed broccoli, and brown and wild rice.
I have had this dinner four times this week. LA's goal for the week: just eat. Even if it's the same meal repeatedly. Known in the recovery process as "safe" meals, certain meals have the ability to transform an eating disordered person into an eating robot. There is no thought process, emotion, or over-thinking involved. For me, it has become the standard chicken-broccoli-rice combo.
I sat in front of the television in my finished basement, watching in awe as the Real Housewives of New Jersey verbally (and physically too...what if we all acted like that?!) attack one another on their reunion show. The TV provided distraction as I, emotionless and completely robotic, polished off the meal one bite at a time.
Whenever my mind told me to stop eating or to go get rid of what had already passed through my mouth, I just kept reminding myself: "You have to run 13 miles in the morning. If you do not eat this, your running club friends will need to scrape your body off the road and haul your ass into the ER."
Now, I do realize that there will not always been a 13-mile run scheduled for the next morning to force me to fuel my body properly. I am not so naive to think that this is even remotely close to a healthy thought process. However, on a day like Friday, when food is the enemy and the eating disorder voice is barking in my ear, anything that forces me to eat a meal is a fair game.
So I got back on track. I earned the right to record a succcessful dinner in the food log that LA will review on Monday morning. The big blank spot for Friday lunch will be a discussion point (no doubt), but at least I redeemed myself by eating an actual dinner.
Near mile 11 this morning, I experienced a bit of a runner's high- which I love. Those moments always remind me why I need to get healthy again: the rewarding experience of training with friends, the thrill of competition, and the personal satisfaction of pushing beyond limitations are the things I live for.
I want know that my body is strong enough to allow me those moments.
Friday, September 10, 2010
A Battle Lost
I ate yesterday- quite a bit. I followed LA's plan accordingly and would have been given a gold star if I were the pigtail-wearing Kindergarten version of myself. My body filled with appropriate nourishment, I taught a great cycling class last night at my gym followed by a productive appointment with Dr. Joe.
I was back on track and feeling good. I remember thinking to myself last night, satisfied and strong: "I can do this. Food is not the enemy, and I am worth feeding."
Today, the roller coaster dipped back down. Out of the blue, and totally unexpected.
Another whole grain waffle with all-natural peanut butter, banana, and almonds went down just fine this morning. I even threw in a caloric glass of orange juice for kicks (I usually don't drink anything but water except for that damn Vitamin water LA "strongly recommends" since my electrolytes are out of whack). I felt fit from last night's cycling class and a decent lifting session. The self-loathing I had been carrying around was somewhat diminished by Dr. Joe last night. I was ready for a second day of "perfect" eating.
Until lunch time. The offending turkey-on-wheat. Damn that sandwich.
I don't know where it came from. I had even taken it from the refrigerator in the staff lounge and walked it back to my desk without much thought. But when I pulled back the foil...my eating disorder slapped me right in the face.
Tears welled up. I was suddenly not hungry. Not deserving. Anxious.
In my head: "Eat it. You can't afford to skip a meal and lose anymore weight. You did so well yesterday and this can continue!"
Anorexia: "You don't deserve it. You don't work hard enough to justify eating that. Yesterday's "splurges" are already making you fat and out of shape. Think of all the food that is just sitting in you right now..."
I wrapped it back in foil and walked the sandwich back to the fridge.
I went back to the refrigerator three times in about 20 minutes...fighting with my eating disorder in the hall. Students and coworkers walked by, totally oblivious to the internal war playing out in my head.
1:00- Stepped outside to attend a ceremony on the lawn. Returned to the fridge again. Then again.
1:30- Tears welling up again. Call LA. Left a voicemail. (Anorexia: "You're incredibly needy. She doesn't want to hear you cry about how you need strength to consume a sandwich. Get it together, no one wants to hear your sob story again. She'll stop helping you if she thinks you are not trying hard enough.")
1:45- Thinking to myself: "This is absolutely insane. Eat the f%&# sandwich, for the LOVE OF GOD."
1:52- Another trip to the fridge. Came back empty-handed.
2:00- I leave for a meeting, thinking "I'll just eat when I get back..."
Hours later, my stomach is still empty. I attempted to eat a few raw vegetables at my desk to cover my guilt.
The tagline on my blog says this is an honest account of anorexia recovery. There you have it. The internal war between me and anorexia.
I lost that battle. The next will come at dinner time and I need to win that one.
I was back on track and feeling good. I remember thinking to myself last night, satisfied and strong: "I can do this. Food is not the enemy, and I am worth feeding."
Today, the roller coaster dipped back down. Out of the blue, and totally unexpected.
Another whole grain waffle with all-natural peanut butter, banana, and almonds went down just fine this morning. I even threw in a caloric glass of orange juice for kicks (I usually don't drink anything but water except for that damn Vitamin water LA "strongly recommends" since my electrolytes are out of whack). I felt fit from last night's cycling class and a decent lifting session. The self-loathing I had been carrying around was somewhat diminished by Dr. Joe last night. I was ready for a second day of "perfect" eating.
Until lunch time. The offending turkey-on-wheat. Damn that sandwich.
I don't know where it came from. I had even taken it from the refrigerator in the staff lounge and walked it back to my desk without much thought. But when I pulled back the foil...my eating disorder slapped me right in the face.
Tears welled up. I was suddenly not hungry. Not deserving. Anxious.
In my head: "Eat it. You can't afford to skip a meal and lose anymore weight. You did so well yesterday and this can continue!"
Anorexia: "You don't deserve it. You don't work hard enough to justify eating that. Yesterday's "splurges" are already making you fat and out of shape. Think of all the food that is just sitting in you right now..."
I wrapped it back in foil and walked the sandwich back to the fridge.
I went back to the refrigerator three times in about 20 minutes...fighting with my eating disorder in the hall. Students and coworkers walked by, totally oblivious to the internal war playing out in my head.
1:00- Stepped outside to attend a ceremony on the lawn. Returned to the fridge again. Then again.
1:30- Tears welling up again. Call LA. Left a voicemail. (Anorexia: "You're incredibly needy. She doesn't want to hear you cry about how you need strength to consume a sandwich. Get it together, no one wants to hear your sob story again. She'll stop helping you if she thinks you are not trying hard enough.")
1:45- Thinking to myself: "This is absolutely insane. Eat the f%&# sandwich, for the LOVE OF GOD."
1:52- Another trip to the fridge. Came back empty-handed.
2:00- I leave for a meeting, thinking "I'll just eat when I get back..."
Hours later, my stomach is still empty. I attempted to eat a few raw vegetables at my desk to cover my guilt.
The tagline on my blog says this is an honest account of anorexia recovery. There you have it. The internal war between me and anorexia.
I lost that battle. The next will come at dinner time and I need to win that one.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
What An (Almost) Perfect Day Feels Like
Yesterday was, actually, a perfect food day. But it has to be "almost" perfect...
"Perfect" is on an outbound train at the moment, remember?
Anyhow, yesterday was the first day I followed LA's recommendations exactly. The action-oriented achiever in me wanted to tackle it, wanted to go to bed at night feeling like I had kicked anorexia's sorry little ass. We had a discussion on Tuesday about just eating the meal plan, even if it is the same "safe" foods over and over again. At this point, getting three meals and a snack in is the goal. We'll work on "challenge" foods much later in the process (The Mr. is secretly excited about the possibility of that happening soon...he can't wait until going out for ice cream or eating from a fast food restaurant is on the treatment to-do list).
So yesterday, I approached the "Stick-to-the-Meal-Plan" goal like it were a race, a marathon, a major swim meet. I ran it over in my mind. I planned each meal. I thought about how I would handle each meal and the temptation to run, purge, or jump off a building after consuming what most people consider to be a normal (if not minimal) day's worth of nourishment.
I decided to go for it. Throw caution to the wind. Eat. Leave it in the body so it can work it's magic. F*#% it.
And it felt damn good. Here's what I ate on my first "perfect" day (I'll set the stage for you too)...
Breakfast (7:00am...standing in my kitchen in a bra and boxer shorts, no makeup, hair wrapped in a towel...Al Roker reporting the weather from New Orleans...)
1 whole grain waffle with all-natural peanut butter, slice bananas, almonds on top
Small glass of orange juice to choke down my recommended multi-vitamin and a calcium chew
Mid-morning caloric beverage (I fight LA on this one all the time...at my desk...prepping to go teach a class of 25+ college freshmen...)
Vitamin water (not the Zero kind either...full-throttle, medicinal-tasting Vitamin water. That's right...bring it on. I'm eating today.)
Lunch (At my desk, working like crazy on editing some video footage, inwardly cursing at my students for not coming to class prepared an hour earlier, chatting on IM with my boss)
1 cup Amy's organic black bean and vegetable chili
Raw vegetables with hummus
Afternoon snack (Just before leaving work while mentally preparing for a hell of a run with my running group)
Granny Smith apple
Greek yogurt (I usually buy the plain kind with honey because it has fewer calories, but The Mr. did the shopping this week and bought the caramel one...not sure if that was done on purpose, but what the hell, ate it anyhow).
Evening run (An amazingly carthartic 6 miles with my friend K on my heels the whole time pushing my pace...Country music a la Nashville blaring on the iPod...Felt strong. Felt amazing. Felt like I could probably engage in some runner trash-talking and it would be totally legit...)
(No food on the run, obviously...but I had to touch upon that run because it was the kind of run a runner lives for).
Moving on...
Dinner (At my kitchen table...after my appointment with Dr. Joe...with my dog begging for a bite, barking like a banchee, and scratching the hell out of my legs...)
Small grilled chicken breast
Steamed broccoli
1 cup brown and wild rice
Before bed (Back in a bra and boxers...in my kitchen...about to pass out while standing up...)
Small glass of fat-free chocolate milk (LA makes me do this for extra calcium, protein, and to recover from runs)
...and that was that. Not a lot of food. Less than what a "normal" person would eat in a day. But a big step from Ensure and an intravenous drip.
Was it easy? Nope. But I Just Did It.
"Perfect" is on an outbound train at the moment, remember?
Anyhow, yesterday was the first day I followed LA's recommendations exactly. The action-oriented achiever in me wanted to tackle it, wanted to go to bed at night feeling like I had kicked anorexia's sorry little ass. We had a discussion on Tuesday about just eating the meal plan, even if it is the same "safe" foods over and over again. At this point, getting three meals and a snack in is the goal. We'll work on "challenge" foods much later in the process (The Mr. is secretly excited about the possibility of that happening soon...he can't wait until going out for ice cream or eating from a fast food restaurant is on the treatment to-do list).
So yesterday, I approached the "Stick-to-the-Meal-Plan" goal like it were a race, a marathon, a major swim meet. I ran it over in my mind. I planned each meal. I thought about how I would handle each meal and the temptation to run, purge, or jump off a building after consuming what most people consider to be a normal (if not minimal) day's worth of nourishment.
I decided to go for it. Throw caution to the wind. Eat. Leave it in the body so it can work it's magic. F*#% it.
And it felt damn good. Here's what I ate on my first "perfect" day (I'll set the stage for you too)...
Breakfast (7:00am...standing in my kitchen in a bra and boxer shorts, no makeup, hair wrapped in a towel...Al Roker reporting the weather from New Orleans...)
1 whole grain waffle with all-natural peanut butter, slice bananas, almonds on top
Small glass of orange juice to choke down my recommended multi-vitamin and a calcium chew
Mid-morning caloric beverage (I fight LA on this one all the time...at my desk...prepping to go teach a class of 25+ college freshmen...)
Vitamin water (not the Zero kind either...full-throttle, medicinal-tasting Vitamin water. That's right...bring it on. I'm eating today.)
Lunch (At my desk, working like crazy on editing some video footage, inwardly cursing at my students for not coming to class prepared an hour earlier, chatting on IM with my boss)
1 cup Amy's organic black bean and vegetable chili
Raw vegetables with hummus
Afternoon snack (Just before leaving work while mentally preparing for a hell of a run with my running group)
Granny Smith apple
Greek yogurt (I usually buy the plain kind with honey because it has fewer calories, but The Mr. did the shopping this week and bought the caramel one...not sure if that was done on purpose, but what the hell, ate it anyhow).
Evening run (An amazingly carthartic 6 miles with my friend K on my heels the whole time pushing my pace...Country music a la Nashville blaring on the iPod...Felt strong. Felt amazing. Felt like I could probably engage in some runner trash-talking and it would be totally legit...)
(No food on the run, obviously...but I had to touch upon that run because it was the kind of run a runner lives for).
Moving on...
Dinner (At my kitchen table...after my appointment with Dr. Joe...with my dog begging for a bite, barking like a banchee, and scratching the hell out of my legs...)
Small grilled chicken breast
Steamed broccoli
1 cup brown and wild rice
Before bed (Back in a bra and boxers...in my kitchen...about to pass out while standing up...)
Small glass of fat-free chocolate milk (LA makes me do this for extra calcium, protein, and to recover from runs)
...and that was that. Not a lot of food. Less than what a "normal" person would eat in a day. But a big step from Ensure and an intravenous drip.
Was it easy? Nope. But I Just Did It.
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