Back

I think the honeymoon is over.  I feel so drained and generally crappy and frustrated with myself.  I got home from my parent's house today, and it appears that over the last 9 days I have lost pretty much all the weight I gained in the last 4 months (not a huge number in terms of poundage, I have been inching along weight-wise, but still a significant amount for me.  H isn't going to be happy).  

Have I mentioned that holidays really aren't my thing?

I love my family dearly, but I am so glad to be home.  I was really uncomfortable with the eating situation at their house, and there are a lot of things to discuss from the past week . . . actually extremely relevant to other recent posts on the ED feed this week.  That will come soon, but right now I am recovering from the mega-long drive and just need to go surrender to sleep for a while.  I'm going to aim to get back on the wagon tomorrow, I don't want to waste my break feeling like a corpse.  And for some reason it is just easier when I'm on my own, which seems counter-intuitive.  You'd think that being unobserved and independent would be the perfect opportunity to let the ED go unchecked, but I tend to do a lot better on my own than with the family.  It's NOT for attention (they pretty much ignore it), it's just anxiety from being out of my usual routines when I am visiting them.  If living like this sucks so much, why am I inevitably drawn into it like a moth to a flame?

Scariest thing about relapse

The scariest thing about relapse is not that it makes me feel weak, exhausted, or sick, because it doesn't, at least not at first.  During that initial honeymoon period the ED actually makes me feel strong and powerful in a twisted yet very real way, and that is what absolutely terrifies me.

Post-Christmas Check-In

This past week has definitely been a roller coaster.  Christmas itself went well, and today was great.  I actually look forward to the 26th more than the 25th each year, because that is the day my mom and I have 'Girl Day' and go out to tear into the sales at the mall, see a movie, etc etc.  

On the one hand, my ED has been raging since I've been here.  I've managed to get in at least as much exercise as usual, if not moreso, but caloric intake has been cut in half, on average.  Don't ask me to explain why, because I have no clue.  H. is not going to be happy when I report back to her on how I handled my behaviors this week--or, more accurately, failed to handle them.

On the other hand, I have been able to be a lot more open and candid with my mom about issues than ever before.  The ED issue has never been a secret, but I do think that the past year of therapy has really helped me to be more articulate and comfortable when talking about things I'm struggling with.  I still don't think she really "gets" what it's like for me, but she does do her best to be supportive.  In case anyone is wondering, there was no response to the request in a recent post, so as yet no indication that my family has discovered the blog.  Whew.

On yet another hypothetical hand, for once my issues aren't the biggest stressor in the house.  Both of my brothers are teenagers now, and we are having some insubordination problems with the 15 year old.  He actually is fine when he's with me, but for some reason he gets so volatile around my parents and our 13 year old brother.  He really is a good kid, he is just super-insecure and doesn't really know how to express himself a lot of the time.  I hate that my parents stay so stressed out about him, and I seriously considered leaving early because I am just sick of his attitude.  That being said, I won't deny that it is an interesting and, as selfish as it sounds, even a nice change to not be the one everyone is worrying about all the time.   We had a big family feelings conference this evening (my mom has a psychology degree AND does social work with at-risk teens, so she is all about the Talking It Out stuff), Jesus Christ, trying to get men to talk about how they are feeling is like chewing glass.  More on the brother issue in another post.   And no, the regression eating-wise is not related to some kind of cry for attention from me, because this has been the pattern every year when I go home for the holidays.  The annual holiday slippage has been happening since way before the recent issues in the brother department.

I will be genuinely sad to leave, my mom is my best friend (yes, that's corny, but it's true, I have plenty of friends but she's my favorite) and I only see her once or twice a year, but at the same time I will be really relieved to head back south in a couple of days, so I can resume routine and start piecing myself back together after a hellacious semester and the holiday crunch time.

Holiday Wishes

I'm putting aside my moaning and groaning for a moment to send holiday wishes to everyone out there in the blogosphere.  When I started BBBB roughly six months ago, it mainly was just as an outlet, to try to organize my thoughts on things and reach out to others struggling with similar issues.  I never dreamed that it would serve both as an outlet and a doorway in to meet so many amazing people!  For every one of you out there, whether we have traded e-mails and/or comments or not, if you are reading this then we're members of a community of sorts and I wish you the best for this holiday season.  I am incredibly thankful for the inspiration, insight, and support I have gained from this blogging community, it has meant a lot to me.  Here's for all of us continuing to learn and grow in the upcoming year!

Request

After a few rather interesting conversations with my mother over the past two days, I have some suspicions that she might have discovered this blog and identified me despite the pseudonym (which, if you know me in real life, is a rather thin veil).  So, because we have a very close and honest relationship, Mom, if you are reading this, please confirm (e-mail me, text me, walk across the hall and knock on the door, etc) so that I'll stop questioning, because I am not used to that feeling and I don't like it.  If that doesn't happen, I'll assume that my status of anonymity has not been breached, because I trust that you'll be honest about whether you know or not.  

I know it seems cheesy to issue such a public request, but you can't really ask someone if she reads a blog without informing her that it exists (blowing your cover) or at least making her pretty damn suspicious that something is up.  I couldn't really come up with a less hokey idea, apologies to the general readership.

From the Holiday Homefront

I made the trip successfully.  In a way.  I arrived here without any major catastrophes on the road.

But thus far I am a complete failure in terms of embracing the holiday, relaxing with my family, and in general just behaving like a human being.  Why, why, why is this so difficult?  My self-loathing is reaching new heights. 

 I am crunched for time this morning, on my way out the door to take my little brothers (ha, not so little anymore, they both tower over me now!  When did these men invade my brothers' bodies?) out for shopping/lunch/movie, but I'll have another update soon. 

Goal for the day: don't repeat yesterday.

Car-tharsis

I'm headed "home" for the holidays tomorrow.  I use quotes because I've never actually lived in the house that my parents live in now, or in the state, for that matter.  I am very close to my family, especially my mom, and I only see them once or twice a year, so I'm really looking forward to spending time with them over the next week.  I've actually given almost no thought to Christmas itself, I'm just looking forward to time with the family.  Yes, it sounds corny, but 'tis true.  

One thing I'm not so thrilled about is the 12+ hour drive.  In some ways, at least.  I hate dealing with traffic (I have to drive through several of the biggest cities in my region), with boredom, with knowing that a lot of my valuables (my computer, camera, phone, various other items that I cannot afford to replace, and most of all my precious G.) are in one rather precarious place.  Talk about having all your eggs in one basket, try putting them all in a combustion-powered machine hurtling across the landscape at 75 miles an hour with just a few inches of rubber away from the asphalt, with similar machines under the control of humans of questionable character and/or competency all vying for position on the road . . . I'm not phobic of driving my any means, but an entire day of this does tend to create twinges of worry.

The main thing I hate about car trips,  of course, is being sedentary for the entire day.  I've talked about my exercise issues before, so this probably doesn't require further explanation.

BUT, those issues aside, I actually do tend to enjoy car trips.  When I am driving, I don't have the option to do anything except pretty much existing.  I never get to just "be" in real life.  No matter how dedicated and self-disciplined I am, when I am driving I literally cannot study, enter data for my honors thesis, send organization-related e-mail, do writing assignments, clean, work out, do volunteer work, or anything of the other million things that usually fill my time.  I have all of my productivity options taken away, and I can just sit and listen to music and audiobooks, or just let my mind wander.  Hours and hours of just thinking time.  That is a luxury I never allow myself in normal circumstances.  I mean, I think all day long, obviously, I'm a full-time student, but Study Thinking and Introspective Thinking are two very different animals.  I find myself contemplating issues, memories, and general thoughts that I normally would not have had the time or energy to deal with.  It's funny how being trapped in a vehicle for hours can be so cathartic sometimes.

It's also kind of freeing to be on the road.  I spend each day entrenched in routines and responsibilities, and every once in a while it's nice to be reminded that I can indeed just hop in my vehicle and go, leaving my usual life behind for a while.  I am nervous about the break in routine, but the rays of liberation that shine through the anxiety are a reward that I don't let myself take for granted.

(Image credit)

"This isn't dinner, just wanted to eat"

People interest me.  I am endlessly fascinated by apparent way that different genders, races, ages, etc., experience the world.  How would my life be different if I had been born male, or black, or deaf, if I was short or if I had red-hair or a Jewish family?  Even something as simple as birth order: what would it be like if my mother hadn't miscarried one pregnancy before she had me?  Who would I be, and how much different would my life path have been?

I think that it is pretty safe to say that men and women experience different cultures of food and body (among other things).  The messages, norms, and tolerance are just different.  I had an interesting experience with this last week, and it gave me some interesting food for thought (no pun intended).  

I was over at J.'s apartment, studying for one of our finals.  His roommate was camped out in the living room with us, also studying killing time on Facebook with some class notes scattered

 around for decoration. 

After about an hour and a half Roomie wandered into the kitchen and started fixing dinner (potatoes, Bagel Bites, Skittles, and coffee--yes, they are bachelors!).  As soon as J. got a whiff of the food, he abandoned studying and went in to start foraging also.  Being the polite host that he is, he brought some potatoes into the living room where I was, and commenced to chopping away, sprawled on the floor amid our papers and books.  

There had been no mention of our study session involving dinner.  I had my own meal planned out at home, with no intention of eating whatever came out of their kitchen.  So I felt pretty awkward that they were preparing to eat, and I started to gather my stuff, thinking it would be most polite to leave them to their meal.  In my world, people like to be left alone to conduct their food rituals, and eating is a largely private endeavor.

J: Where are you going?  

Me: Home, I'll let you guys have dinner, and we're almost done covering stuff anyway.

J: [confused look on his face]  This isn't dinner, I just wanted to eat.  Help yourself, C., don't leave.

Me: No no, that's fine, I'll just get going.

J: [frown]

Roomie: There's plenty of potato for everyone, and I heard your stomach growling earlier, do you want yours baked whole or sliced n'fried?

Me: Neither, I need to go anyway, G. hasn't been out in a while and I have X, Y, and Z to do...[more rambling about various urgent business I need to attend to elsewhere]

J: [frown]

Roomie: Want some Skittles for the road?  I'll even give you all the purple ones...

Me: [frown]

So I gathered my stuff and made my escape, leaving them to their Bachelor Gourmet, but the incident gave me a lot to ponder.  If I had been with two female friends, I cannot imagine that they would just wander into the kitchen and randomly start making a meal in the middle of a study session with the infinite nonchalance that J. and his roommate did.  If they did decide to cook something without making the plans beforehand, I can imagine it would involve much apologizing/excuse making.  What, you actually have physical needs for fuel?  Better come up with some explanation for that one, girl, do you think you're just entitled to appetite or something?  The declaration "this isn't dinner, just wanted to eat," seems much more natural to come from a male (our society is all about males having and filling needs and desires) than a female.  Maybe I am reading too much into this, or not painting an adequate picture of the episode.  

I don't think it's just an issue of me, someone with an ED, observing "normal" people, although that is possible.  It's pretty widely accepted (with evidence from emprical studies in addition to common lay observations) that women are more prone to walking on eggshells around food.  If you eavesdrop on women (or girls) during meals, they are much, much more likely to be talking about the calories and fat--and the associated guilt--of the food than men are.  

Don't get me wrong, I'm not an ultra-feminist type, and I do realize that 1 out of every 10 ED sufferers is indeed in possession of a Y chromosome.  My own brother has had eating issues in the past.  And I have plenty of female friends that are not ashamed about loving food.  But it still seems that men and women inhabit different spheres when it comes to food culture.  In one sphere,  "plenty of potato for everyone" seems a logical excuse to eat, and in the other things tend to be slightly more complicated.

Of course, nothing is black and white when you're dealing with people.  There are exceptions to every rule, counter-examples for every case study.  So: What do you think, have you had any similar experiences, or ones in which people significantly departed from  their gender's expected behavior around food?

 (What about species and food behavior? ;) This is just for grins, BUT I have actually caught G. in exactly the same mischief as the dog in the photo!)

Fatigue, Pseudo-Appointments, and Other Notes from This Week

I seem to have a severe case of residual fatigue now that finals are done.  For the past few days I have been completely wiped out and ready to fall asleep by 4 in the afternoon.  I need to get over this, because I have a 12 hour drive to make on Sunday and tons of stuff to do to prepare for the trip.  I'm a little worried, because I've been low on physical energy as well as mental, in spite of mostly sticking to the meal plan.  Usually I am an exercise machine, even during times of minimal food intake and/or sleep deprivation, but this week is the first time in memory I have really felt sluggish and have just not wanted to do much.  I'm not used to having to convince myself to work out.  Of course, this frustrates me and makes me push harder than ever as punishment, which makes me tireder, which makes me madder, which makes me push harder....wash, rinse, repeat, you get the idea.

I do actually have a list of coherently themed/topical posts planned, believe it or not, I have just lacked energy and motivation to do them, I hope to get on the ball with that SOON.  Until then, random snapshots of life this week:

-G. got to go to my appt with H. today!  No real reason.  I mention him fairly frequently, and last week I made an offhanded comment about how it would be nice if H. could meet him sometime, and she immediately suggested that he just tag along sometime.  She is a big Dog Person, and she loved him.  She used to have a dog in her office all the time, apparently, but he died and she hasn't started the habit with any of her other dogs. During the session G. would get very anxious whenever I started to get uncomfortable or frustrated.  He is like my own furry emotional barometer.

-I have a tooth that is bothering me, so last week I called to make an appointment for this Wednesday.  I got up at 5:30 to get stuff done before the appt, made sure to get there on time, had planned soft-food menus for the day just in case I was going to be sore...and I got there and they had no record of my appointment, or the two reminders I insisted they had given me via phone the previous day.  After some wrangling it became clear what had happened: apparently I was a complete fuzz-brain and didn't realize I had not updated the contact number in my phone since I switched dentists earlier this year.  I'm still not sure how I managed that, because I've been seeing the new guy for 8 months and have called the office at least a dozen time.  Nevertheless, apparently I had called the wrong number and inadvertently made the appt with the WRONG dentist, so not only did I not have an appt with the new one, but I was a no-show at the old one, which will cost me a $25 fee.  And now my tooth will be hurting until January 6, the earliest time the new guy could fit me in.  I was pissed, but the whole thing was my fault.

-I totally have a crush on my maintenance guy.

-It's almost Christmas!  The holidays always sneak up on me, because I am always wrapped up in finals, etc, for most of December.  Up until a couple years ago I dreaded holidays, but now that I only see my family once or twice a year I appreciate them much more.  Maybe it's a control thing: when I lived at home I had no choice but to participate in all the traditions and celebrations, but now that I'm on my own and doing it of my own volition it seems much different.

-It has been in the 70's here all week!  I heart this place, I will definitely miss the "winters" when I move next year.

That's all for now, I promise I will have some less random/trivial material very soon.

Done. Sort of. Not really.

I took my seventh and LAST final this morning.  Whew.  Done. This has been an unimaginably intense semester, there were times when I really didn't know how I was going to pull it off.  My spring load will be considerably lighter.

So, it's behind me, but my anxiety level isn't really going down.  I haven't made much progress on my honors thesis this semester, between 20 hours of classes, teaching, two other jobs, running an organization, doing student recruitment events, etc etc . . . I'm really going to have to get crunching on that, plus grad school applications/interviews, getting ready to move out this summer, etc, etc, etc . . . I am still feeling slightly majorly overwhelmed.

Plus there is other stuff.  I am supposed to be building a life outside ED, remember?  I have stacks of books I want to read (I actually read several a week even during the semester, but there are way too many interesting ones out there . . . ), some movies I want to watch, places to go/things to do with friends, and I have really, really been wanting to take up piano again.  H. thinks I need a "creative outlet," and I miss the piano quite a bit. Yesterday I sank more money than I could really afford into buying myself a decent digital piano (my real one "lives" at my parents' house, I'll reclaim it when I'm out of school and settled somewhere), and I have the best intentions to make time to play it, but I'm worried about that too.  Does it defeat the purpose of finding "outlets" if I just get anxiety about how I'm going to find time for them?

I also have a ton of blog topics I have been itching to write, but I've limited my blogging during finals.  Now I don't really know where to start.  I feel mixed up about my body and my life in general, what else is new.  I am uber stressed about going home for Christmas, but that seems so expected and cliche that I am almost embarrassed to write about it, just another cookie cutter anxiety vent.  Feeling like a stereotype sucks.

Maybe, methinks, a few nights of decent sleep will make the world seem more manageable.  Surely if I made it through this hellish semester, I can juggle anything.  I have four days before I leave for Christmas, but I have to squeeze in the dentist, orthopedist, H., and my Christmas shopping and packing . . . can I please just go find a hole to crawl into for the next few months?

More Finals Fun

Major clue as to my current degree of frazzledness:  Today I actually called J. to let him know he had left his phone at my house.  

I have to admit, I'm almost enjoying finals, though, because I have no other responsbilities besides taking tests.  No labs, no teaching, no meetings because my organizations and clubs have all wrapped up for the semester, etc etc.  What, all I have to do is learn stuff?  That's great, this is like a pre-vacation vacation.

Less positive: because my daily schedule is much less crowded this week, I have had time for more exercise, even though I am technically supposed to be decreasing it (H. wants it down by about 75% to start off with).  It is so easy to increase it, though, because I am a master of multitasking and can read while I do some of my workouts (I can sit on the exercise bike forever as long as I've got reading material), and thus I can study while pumping away, telling myself it is an efficient use of my time.  Plus, it's an outlet for anxiety over tests and the approaching holidays.  

So, goal for tomorrow is to NOT do the extra workout time that I've done for the past few days. I'm starting to feel the effects of all the extra wear and tear, and it's not fun, and I have more important things I should be doing with my time.  I think I will go to either the library or my favorite coffee shop to study, so I am removed from my workout zones and temptations.  At home, I feel guilty when I just sit on my couch reading, when the bike is right there in the room and I know I could get the same reading done along WITH burning calories if I just jumped on the machine.  

Five finals down, two to go!

Is it over yet?

I am NOT allowed to become this ambivalent and complacent this early in finals . . . three exams left, with the last one ridiculously spaced out from the rest (I had one today, one each tomorrow and Friday, and the last one on Tuesday).  Although technically now I am over halfway done, I've already taken 4.  I can feel my motivation dripping out of me more rapidly every hour.  I only need a 40-something on tomorrow's test to keep my A, and C's on the other two to keep my A's in those classes.  Obviously, though, I will not let myself get a 40 or a C on the final exams, I always study as if my grade depends on it, but after the absolute gauntlet that has been this semester I am finally hitting the point where motivation is taking more and more effort.

Blah!  Off to hit the books.

Random notes from my study material, by the way: Did you know that some insects are fertilized via hemocoelic insemination, meaning that the male basically drills a hole in her (between the head and the thorax) with his copulatory organ to inject his sperm.  Another reason to be thankful that we are mammals.  

Finals, Food, and Family

So, I have been a bad blogger lately, sorry y'all.  But 'tis the season, and not the one involving lights and trees and presents: it's Finals Time.

ED-wise I'm pretty much the same.  Like I have said before, I'm either stable or stagnant, depending on how you choose to approach it.  I haven't really moved towards adding back the weight that I lost over Thanksgiving, but I have been mostly doing my mp.  

Even though finals are Supreme Stress Time, I actually tend to do best with eating, etc during exam periods.  I guess because I can look at it from a more functional point of view, I know I need to be able to concentrate, remember, etc, so I do what I need to in order to maximize performance.

I guess the hypernutrition mode during finals kind of shows how I tend to both overanalyze and express anxiety through food, too.  I will spend hours and hours obsessing over how to concoct the healthiest, most brain-boosting meals possible for the week of finals.  I have no doubt that any marginal cognitive benefits I get from having Kashi instead of Cocoa Puffs is vastly outweighed and rendered moot by the sheer amount of time and brain energy that I spend obsessing over the week's menus.  It's not that I eat crap food all the time normally, either, I just become hyperaware about micromanaging nutritional content during finals.  I don't increaseoverall  calories, just become much more careful about getting enough protein, fat, etc.

That period of uber nutritional conscientiousness is always traditionally followed by a direct nosedive as soon as the last exam is over.  It's like ED Me is treading water just under the surface, holding her breath.  Then as soon as finals are over, there she comes, bursting up, gasping for air, and ready to put things back in "order."  I'm suddenly faced with weeks of minimal responsibilites, almost no performance pressure, and way too much time to hang out with someone I'm not necessarily that fond of: myself.  

In a nutshell, it's a recipe for relapse.

Post-finals, I'm usually suffering from ultra "food fatigue" (more on this issue in another post) from having to eat way more than I would really like to, plus I have an abrupt end to the distraction of classes, etc, which usually help to keep my mind off my body.  Being "allowed" to restrict again feels as comforting and reassuring as slipping on a favorite pair of well-worn jeans.

BUT that also means that between finals and Christmas I have just enough time to reach a pretty miserable state, and I don't want to let that happen this year.  I have worked really hard over the past few months, and I can't let all that effort go to waste, right?  Or at least that's what I'm trying to tell myself.  I only get to see my family once or twice a year.  If there is any time to cash in on the freedoms of loosening up from the ED, I definitely need to take advantage of it when I am visiting them.  It's just hard because traveling/visiting are ultra high stress triggers for me, so right when I want to be the most normal it is also infinitely harder, which is significant when I am still struggling with keeping it together in my everyday routine.

Argh.  I need to go sleep.  Two finals down, five to go...

Fuzzy

So, there has been a little slippage going on over the past few days.  Maybe more than a little.  Most of it not even conscious, honestly.  I just haven't had an appetite, and being out of my normal class/work routine has made it easy to let eating fall through the cracks.  I paid for it today, though, I was just exhausted and, worst of all, had that fuzzy-headed feeling, couldn't really focus on much, and I was just in a bad mood.  I can handle Empty Stomach, but I hate Empty Brain.

To "celebrate" the last day of the break (is that something to celebrate? doesn't it mean finals are looming? oh well), J. and his roommate had a Wii party.  Has everyone played that wonder that is Wii?  I'm not a big gamer, but this is possibly the most entertaining thing ever.   (Just for the record, even though J. is literally more than twice my size in real life, I routinely kick his virtual ass on Super Smash Brothers!) The controller is amazing, you get to do all kinds of zany actions with it because it works with a motion sensor.  Wii parties are a big fad at my university right now, they're a blast.  If you mix motion sensor games with alcohol and/or caffeine...well, you get the picture, hilarity inevitably ensues...

 I ended up not going, though.  I really just didn't have the mental or physical energy to do anything extra today.  No, missing a video game session isn't that big of a deal, that's not the point.  The main issue is that I hate having regrets, either about something as silly as an afternoon of Wii or about the larger theme of connecting with people.  When I look back at high school I see so many missed opportunities to have fun, reach out, just enjoy being a teenager.  I have wasted so much time/energy over the years, it disgusts me when I stop to think about it.  I have tried not to let the ED rob me of the same things during college, but sometimes it's hard. 

And that is why I'm going to make a determined effort to get back in the saddle tomorrow; with finals coming up I can not afford a crash right now.  Feeling "fuzzy" today was a reminder of why making progress is worth all the stress and anxiety.  Now that I'm used to having more energy and focus, being thrown back towards the terrible way I used to feel all day, every day is a sharp reality check.  Starting back with classes will help, I just have a hard time justifying fueling myself when I'm not in my normal school routine.  

Put a Ring on It

Randomness for today: Although I'm not all that extroverted, I really, really love to dance, and I love music that makes you move.  Most of the time G. is the only witness to my jam sessions, but on occasions when I do go out dancing I can have more fun stone sober than most people do at their most, well, juiced up.  Anyway, the main point of this post: Can I just say that it is a nice change to see a celebrity showing off and enjoying her shape?  Yes, I know, her curves are definitely those of a woman with a personal fitness team and a crew of people paid to make her look good, but I still think it sets a better example than a lot of the images we get of frail,  waifish models and actresses.  Plus, it's just a fun video. ;)  Click the link for a higher quality version, the only one that I could embed in the post has poor resolution. 

The Sodium Saga

In my last post I mentioned my ridiculous taste for salt, I probably consume enough sodium per day to give an elephant a bad case of hypertension. I do think it is something more than an idiosyncrasy of my palate. And so after last night I started thinking about it more and decided to look it up, apparently an appetite for salt can signal a zinc deficiency, which is interesting, because the study also correlated anorexia with zinc deficiency as well. Keep in mind that this is the more stark scientific usage of "anorexia," just meaning decreased food intake, not the psychological condition (the study was done on baby rats, who may be the last members of society to remain unaffected by today's barrage of messages about body and weight. So far, at least).

I remember seeing something on a parent's message board one time (yes, I spy on those sometime, it is a poignant reality check to see these issues from "the other side," and I think it might actually have been Laura's board) about giving zinc tablets to help with weight gain in recovery, and there is science to back this up. There is one study that found that about 90% of athletes have zinc-deficient diets, which was also found to be linked to the development of eating disorders. My favorite among the studies that I dug into last night, though, gives us a triple whammy: it links zinc deficiency (which, remember, apparently correlates to salt cravings) with anorexia, and then gives us the cause for that: apparently increased leptin is also related to low zinc levels, with evidence that it is specifically the leptin mRNA from abdominal adipose that is affected. Muy cool, no?

Also, it is common for ED sufferers to be hypokalemic. At my very first visit with my dietician she requested bloodwork records from my physician to see what my potassium levels were like. Hopefully everyone remembers from their high school biology class that sodium and potassium ratios are crucial for the most basic function of your cells (remember those cute ion pumps that live in your cells' lipid bilayers?), and having one out of whack can mess up the whole balance.

So, that's just a few notes from the results of my crash course in sodium/zinc regulation in relation to EDs, for anyone else who has also noticed major salt cravings and wondered about the cause. This would also explain why the salt substitutes NEVER satisfy me, because it's not the taste I'm craving, but the sodium itself.

(Image credit for sodium molecule)

Uncomfortable

I am incredibly uncomfortable in my body right now.  My weight hasn't gone up over the past week, if anything it's come down a tiny bit, I don't know what the deal is.  I just feel thick and bulky and alien. It's not post-holiday guilt, because I didn't do Thanksgiving this year. I was a good girl and got back on my meal plan today after being sick, but it's really hard.  The amount I'm eating right now is almost depressing, I am sure it's more than I would be eating "normally" (meaning if I was a regular functional person and had never dealt with an ED).  If I were doing "intuitive eating," I can't imagine that I'd feel the urge to consume as much as I am supposed to according to my team.  

So, since I am supposed to be actually thinking about these issues instead of just whining about them, there are a few factors here that are probably making me "feel fat":

 1) I am still exercising compulsively, so my cal requirements are indeed pretty high, meaning I have to eat more food than I am psychologically and physically comfortable with.  If I cut some of that workout time, I might even be able to justify changes in my mealplan to my team.  But I can't do that.  More on the exercise stuff in an upcoming post. 

 2) I always have an inordinate craving for salt, and I know that the amount of sodium I consume every day probably contributes to me feeling bulky and gross.  If I have a day where I am on the go/on campus for all meals and don't have time for any "real" food (meaning that I do mostly granola bars, etc and no cooked meals that I can add salt to) my weight will drop about 2-3 pounds overnight.  I am not sure why I always feel the need to add so much salt, I need to do research on the possible causes of this, I do think it goes beyond mere taste. 

3) My pace of life has slowed considerably over the holiday break.  I still have lots of work to do, but I can do it from home instead of ping-ponging all over campus for 12-14 hours a day, and business for the organizations, clubs, etc is wrapping up for the semester.  Hence, more free time, hence, less to distract me from how my body has changed over the past few months.  H. insists that my crazy schedule is an unconscious defense mechanism for me to "avoid addressing feelings," maybe she is right.  Usually she is, but it also usually takes me a while to realize that.  

So, it's a bad body image time right now.  Although I do know some logical factors contributing to the problem, since when has rationality played a part in any of this?  I still just feel too big, too soft, too much.

Thursday Thoughts

I figured I should jump on the bandwagon with Thanksgiving narratives and musings.   I spent Turkey Thursday solo this year, due to a nasty flu thingy I appear to have picked up.   I probably could have survived the 5 hour drive to my grandparents' house, but I didn't want to expose them to my germs once I got there.  

In an earlier comment, Tiptoe asked how I feel about being on my own (although G. can't be discounted) for the holiday.  Actually I am fine with it.  I need to have solitude periodically, it helps me to recharge.  I had a relaxing day, overal.  I laid on the couch and watched a movie this morning (when was the last time I did that?  I can't remember), and in spite of my head feeling like it weighs about 15 pounds I got some much-needed work done on a paper this afternoon.  I was feeling well enough by about 4 to take G. for an abbreviated walk, and the weather was gorgeous.  By this evening I was feeling well enough  for some solid food, so I had butterscotch pudding and white-fudge covered Oreos for dinner (although still not sure if I will regret that later, the stomach is a little unhappy now).  I actually get much more genuine enjoyment out of a quiet, routine day than I do from the hustle and bustle of holiday travel.

The only thing I was definitely not fine with was guilt over not going to my grandparents' house.  I don't grieve my Thanksgiving, that's for sure, but I do regret any missed opportunity to see them.  We are extremely close, and I know they were very disappointed when I called yesterday to say I wasn't coming.  I hate disappointing anyone, but especially them. But then again, my grandmother just got over pneumonia, and I'd hate to reinfect her with something.   All day today I kept having sad mental images of them having Thanksgiving alone.  They had 7 kids, always a huge bustling household that was overflowing with excitement for every holiday, but now everyone has moved far away (I'm the closest, and it's a 5 hour drive) and they themselves aren't really healthy enough to travel.  

Side rant on Thanksgiving: It's like the entire nation has a love-hate relationship with the holidays, and it's a miracle that everyone, including Rudolph himself, doesn't develop an eating disorder after months of being exposed to alternating "here's how to cook this awesome food to gorge on" and "here's how to cleanse yourself of that awesome holiday food" messages blasting us from all angles of society.  I have never really "gotten" that, I guess I don't understand, people eat every day, do they really think a Thanksgiving meal is any worse for them than the beer and pizza or super-size McMeals that are consumed every day?  I guess I tend to look at it from a more objective/empirical viewpoint; maybe it's because I'm a scientist, or (more likely) just because I crunch dietary numbers every day.  There is lots of shock value in tallying up dishes and saying, oh, the average Thanksgiving meal has XXXX calories.  WHAT?  Are you serious? Hold onto your cross-trainers, girls, it's a gravy-soaked catastrophe!  But really, stop to think.  If the average person consumes ~2000 cals a day anyway, the 3000, 4000, whatever they have once in a while to celebrate a holiday isn't that much else, remember that tally is not adding that entire amount, the only extra is beyond what you normally would have eaten, XXXX MINUS 2000 or whatever you normally need to consume.  If someone habitually goes to the movies on the weekend and eats a large popcorn, well, that's a Thanksgiving meal every week, and they probably survive.  Ok, that's my mini-rant about how the media abuses both us and the holidays in general.

Ok, in spite of my attempts to be rational about it, you might have guessed that Thanksgiving isn't my favorite holiday.  But I have never had extreme anxiety over it, at least not over food.  My ED is not a secret, and my family handles it very well: the make sure there are "safe" foods on the menu, try not to make me feel like I'm under the spotlight, and focus more on the visiting with family than scrutinizing who does/doesn't eat what. That part is usually fine. The biggest stressor for me is usually just the change in routine that is required in order to travel to the nearest relative's house.  Exercise addiction is like this massive ball and chain wrapped around your life, and even the suggestion of having to miss a workout makes me more anxious that the most high-strung holiday hostess.  Luckily I can always take G. for a walk and make it a family thing by inviting people along, that doesn't replace my workouts but at least takes the edge off my anxiety.

I do tend to lose weight over the holidays.  Ok, "tend" is a little wimpy; I invariably drop weight between November and February.  Part of this is because I always end up over compensating when I have a change of routine.  I'm going to miss a workout on Thanksgiving?  Ok, I'll do double my exercise on Wednesday in addition to halving my calories for X days . . . Logic, logic, wherefore art thou, logic . . . Part of this is because I'm out of school for several weeks, and when I am not under pressure to perform it is incredibly easy to let recovery efforts fall by the wayside.  Third, I am a strong believer in Seasonal Affective Disorder, and I do tend to get pretty down and lose any appetite when Daylight Savings Time ends and darkness comes progressively earlier each evening.

I never sit down and strategize a relapse every winter, it just tends to happen.  I have talked to H. about this, and my goal this season is supposed to be to hang onto all of my newly accumulated mass throughout the holiday season.  I am going to try, but we'll see how it goes.  I don't know if it's just because I've been sick, but I've felt uberly gross and uncomfortable in my body over the past few days.  I haven't had any appetite because I've been sick, but I'm going to try to get back into my regular eating pattern again tomorrow, it's way to easy to let episodes like this readjust my settings for lower intake and lead to major ED slips.

As usual, this post is way longer than I originally intended.  I started out just talking about how I spent today and ended up spilling about my annual relapse cycle.  Does anyone actually read the entirety of these monstrous things?

In any case, I hope that everyone had a great Thanksgiving, that you were able to relax and spend time with loved ones, and that you were able to take a little time to treat yourself like a loved one too.

Viruses, Snakes, and Coffee Crimes

Issues, concerns, and miscellany for today:

You know you have a crappy apartment when the maintenance man comes over so often that your dog greets him like an old friend when he walks in the door.

I am having an "icky body" day, I just feel grublike and gross.  Did I weigh any more today than I did yesterday? No.  Then why do I feel like I have grown my very own turkey wattle of chin fat overnight?  I haven't even eaten much today, because I apparently have some flu-type virus.  I am almost certain I picked it up in the waiting room at the doctor's office on Monday, which is ironic but not all that surprising.  I was planning to go to my grandparents' house for Turkey Day tomorrow, but their health is always tenous and I am very afraid of infecting them, so it will just be me and G. here.  

I take that back: me, G., and the snakes.  Did I mention I got a snake a couple weeks ago?  He's just a baby, a real cutie.  I'm also keeping J's snake over the break.  It is the same species as mine, but a different subspecies. They don't share a cage!  Snakes don't like sleepovers.  This species actually prefers to eat other snakes, and my poor little guy wouldn't stand a chance against J's, he's still only pencil-sized.

Speaking of pets, one of my pet peeves in life is baristas that shortchange me by underfilling my Americano.  When I pay $3 for 20 oz of coffee, I damn well expect to get a 20 oz drink, not 16 oz and three inches of air.  If I wanted that much "room for cream" I would have just ordered a latte.

Another overpriced food issue: These 100 calorie pack things are really getting on my nerves.  Now they have them for candy bars, you can get a little 100 calorie portion of M&Ms, Twix, etc.  Do the candy companies really think people are dumb enough not to realize that the traditional fun-size versions are pretty much the same thing, except much cheaper?  Also, with the cookies, crackers, etc, individually packaging each 100 cal portion is incredibly wasteful, think about all the extra cellophane, paper, plastic, etc that is being used.  I think companies should have a responsibility to use recycled and/or biodegradable materials if they insist on marketing items that use 10x the necessary amount of packaging.  Maybe this is just because I see things through the lens of a broke college student, but it costs a lot more per ounce just to fill your trashcan up with extra wrappers,when technically ANYTHING you buy can be broken up into whatever serving size you want.  Seriously, there is no need for people that are concerned about limiting portions to require food that is pre-measured and bagged. Pathological people like me have been buying regular boxes/bags of things and weighing portions out the old-fashioned way for years, and it works just fine without the super-expensive and landfill-crowding new over-packaged items that have flooded the market recently.  Also, having snack foods packaged by calorie count makes kids think snacks are "healthy" because it's just 100 calories of cookie, instead of defining "healthy" by actual nutrient content.

Why do I feel the constant need to punch the button to check my CrackBlackberry even when I can see that the little red message light is not blinking?  It's like I'm a moth attracted to this little device, I can't leave it alone.  Somehow it seems like by checking it often enough I'll POOF, make e-mails and messages appear whenever I need to feel validated.  Sadly, it doesn't work like that.  I wonder if Obama would have run for president if he knew they'd take away his BB?  It would have given me serious pause, I even use mine as a flashlight when I get up to pee in the middle of the night.  

Now that all of that crankiness (can I blame it on the flu?) is out of my system, I think I am going to head towards bed.  Goal for tomorrow: get rid of this fever, and if said fever isn't gone, don't push the exercise so much.  

Appointment Update

So guess what?  The nurse didn't say a word about the weight gain, never batted an eyelash.  If I had stuck with my previous pattern, I would have spent days agonizing over every bite and basically putting myself through hell, and the result would have been nil, zero feedback or validation.  I was very glad that I didn't waste all that energy and anxiety over something that turned out to be no big deal.

Even post-tattoo, though, the needle wasn't any easier during the blood draw!  It's not the pain that bothers me, but the general concept of something poking through my skin just makes me queasy.

But yay for no more low thryoid levels, even sans medication. It's amazing how your body can take care of itself when you're not forcing it to cannibalize itself every day.  Recoveryisgoodrecoveryisgoodrecoveryisgood, I keep trying to repeat that whenever I feel myself slipping into Blob mode.  

I like my physician, he is nice and fairly hot, but he is also clueless when it comes to EDs.  He asked why I wanted a Dexa, and I had to point out to him that having an eating disorder for nine years and never getting a period puts a person at risk for bone loss, and I was already diagnosed with osteopenia when I was 17. " Oh yeah," he said, "right, you should definitely have that looked at."  Thanks.  How much did you pay for that medical degree, anyway?

So then he asked me how my treatment for AN was going (referring to my work with H.), and I said things were "improving," and that seemed to satisfy him.  "Ok, so you're eating alright?"  If only "eating alright," were all it took to make things ok, if only.

So, Dr. R is obviously not an ED expert, but I got what I needed out of the appointment with no major trauma involved, and I was glad I resisted the urge to play scale games, it was a nice validation of the fact that so much of that is pointless, and it's not worth it to spend valuable time/energy abusing yourself for a relatively arbitrary readout on some piece of equipment in the doctor's office.

Not Letting Weigh-ins Carry Too Much Weight

So, I have an appointment with my physician today, the first time I've seen him since I came in with my tropical infection back in August.  I had some bloodwork done earlier this year that showed that my thyroid levels were low, and I want to have that checked again, plus I need a referral for a new Dexa scan.  

I have gained weight since my last appointment, more than can be attributed to normal fluctuation, and I am really, really dreading having the nurse look at the huge jump in numbers when she writes it on my chart.  I weigh myself at home, so it won't do me any good to ask to be weighed backwards or anything like that, I know exactly what the number is.  Technically, these people are in the health business, do I really think they're going to look down on me for moving more towards the healthy range?  No, not really, but I still just feel anxious and strange about it.  

So, it would have been super easy to restrict food, sodium, water, etc over the past couple of days to minimize the number.  It crossed my mind multiple times a day.  Actually it didn't cross my mind, that sounds to fleeting, it made my mind feel criss-crossed.   I held on, though, and did my normal thing.  Now that the appointment is looming this afternoon, I came so close to making a last-ditch effort, I am meeting a friend for coffee later so that would have made it easy for me to skip breakfast, or at least cut back.  

Normally I would have done that without even debating.  But really, is it worth days and days of my suffering for the 10 seconds or so that the nurse will spend recording and/or reacting to my weight?  I think not.  I have too many other things to spend my energy and anxiety on right now.

So, I just finished my normal breakfast, and I'm going to get a LARGE coffee with my friend, specifically to confront my worries about water weight.  And I'll be honest with the doctor about my exercise, that one is always hard.  And about my still absent period, that one is always harder.  Not so much that I'm reluctant to tell him, he's a doctor, but he's always got an assistant this invariably some cute young woman not much older than me, very perfectly proportioned and probably very fertile, and I just get embarrassed.

And I won't let myself get anxious about the needle when they draw my blood, considering my adventure from this past weekend, that would just be silly, right?  

Badge of Courage

So, I have been planning this for a long time, but I haven't mentioned it to anyone yet because I was afraid I would chicken out. But I didn't. And here it is:

It should be noted that I have MAJOR needle anxiety, I have never even had my ears pierced. And Mr. Tattoo Artist wouldn't let J. hold my hand, because he said any move J. made would make me move too, and you no want to be doing moving when the ink needle is in you.

Yes, I got the idea and design for a recovery tattoo from Thin, but I really like the symbol, which is actually the NEDA logo. I got mine in blue, instead of red and purple, because that has always been a peaceful color for me. I had originally planned to get it on my 21st birthday, over a year ago, but at that point I was pretty entrenched in the ED, and I thought I would have felt like a hypocrite. I wanted it to have meaning, so I decided to hold off until I actually had some progress and accomplishments to symbolize. I am still struggling day-to-day, but the general trend is definitely forward, and I have no plans to go back.

And yes, it HURT LIKE HELL. Because it's small and simple it went fast, so there wasn't really time for the endorphins to kick in. But I tried to think of it as "pain with a purpose." A little bit of pain as a reminder of a lot more pain that I am working hard to reconcile and leave in the past.

(Note: I didn't realize until I uploaded the pics that my panty strap was twisted. Sigh. Even when I am feeling profound I still manage to goof things up, oh well. Make the twisted strap into its own metaphor if you wish, c'est la vie).

Tired

I am so overtired and overwhelmed.  All I want to do is sit down and cry out of pure exhaustion, but I have neither the time nor the energy to spare for that.  The ED stuff is either stable or stagnant, depending on how you choose to look at it, for once that's not the main issue.  The major stressors right now are  just everything else that has piled up, and the subsequent lack of sleep and general freakedoutedness.  It's now officially Thanksgiving break, but I've got such an oppressive to-do list for the "vacation" that I just want to go stick my head in the sand somewhere.  

Blah, vent post, sorry.  I'll have something more substantive soon.

No Longer

"I was willing to dismember my ego and peel it apart in order to find the core of all peels in its unknown innermost essence....but I myself was lost in the process....I will no longer murder and dismember myself in order to find a secret beyond the rubble."
~Hermann Hesse, in Siddhartha

"It's Not About the Bagel."

J. and I share a rather acerbic sense of humor, but we rarely get in real actual arguments.  Today we did, and it gave me a lot to think about.  Sometimes I really think this boy is going into the wrong field, he'd make an excellent psychologist.  

The whole thing started as we were leaving our early class this morning, and he tried to convince me to come to a cafe with him for breakfast.  I had one hour before my appt with H., and I'd already packed a breakfast to eat before heading over there.  I am still weird about eating in front of people sometimes, even J., and I just wanted to go to the internet cafe in the library to sit in the corner and eat my pre-determined meal all by myself.  It's not that I didn't want the calories of going out with him, or that I have anything against bagels (I am fine with eating them on my own terms) it's just that I'd already planned what I was going to have, and I don't do spontaneity or sudden changes of plans very well.  

I couldn't explain all that to him, though, so I just told him no, I had an appt later and had to send some important e-mails before that.  He was persistent, though.  Getting in arguments bothers me in the first place, but knowing that the subject of the disagreement is something as petty as a breakfast pastry really pisses me off at myself.

J: Come on, please?

C: No. I have to send those e-mails, I won't have another free hour for the rest of the day.

J: It won't take that long, you have time.

C: No, I don't. I can't.

J: It's just a bagel, C, come on.

C: Friends don't let friends do refined carbs.

J: Ha, cut it out, let's go to Einstein's, my treat.  A bagel is not going to hurt you.

C: [glare] J, no. Period.  I have to go.  Buy yourself an extra bagel and eat it for me.

J: [double glare] It's not about the bagel, C., it's about you loosening the hell up and living once in a while.

I really couldn't argue with that, so I just walked away.

On being proactive...

Even if you're on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there.

~Will Rogers

Hot Flashes, Hunger, and Crappy Baristas

Over the past couple of weeks, it has become very obvious that my body is just as bewildered as my brain about this whole recovery thing.  First, my metabolism is erratic and unpredictable: I am having flashes where I'll get super hot all of the sudden. I'll just be sitting in class and my system will rev up and I'll feel like I need to peel off two or three layers of clothes.  After spending so many years teetering on the edge of hypothermia for weeks/months at a time, I don't take heat for granted and this symptom isn't too terrible, I can deal with it.  The one that bothers me to an extreme degree is that I am hungry All. The. Time.  This is true stomach-gnawing hunger, not just post-starvation appetite, believe me, I am so f-ing tired of food.  I am more than a little pissed at the irony that as I gain weight I'm spending much more time hungry than I did when I was starving myself.  

It's also ironic that all I have to do to turn off the hunger is to not eat.  Yes, the scientist in me knows that hunger means my metabolism is up and kicking, and that skipping meals is a sure way to slow it down to the pace of a snail, but old habits die hard.   Yesterday I was completely fed up with feeling fat and stuffing myself with food I don't want, so I rebelled and scrapped my meal plan. I was a little hungry at first, but it quickly settled down into that slightly achy yet oh-so-familiar hollow feeling.  I know this is completely disordered, but that honestly seems like the most comfortable state of being for me, it just feels like default mode.   My hair is blonde, my eyes are blue, my stomach is empty, the earth is round, etc.

And so today, I told myself I had to get back on track and stick to the meal plan.  I had my full breakfast at 7:30...and was famished by 10:00, literally so hungry I couldn't concentrate on my work.  I went to get coffee, and had a terrible time with a stupid campus barista that doesn't know coffee from the dirt in her garden.  She completely messed up my drink, and then yelled at me for it.  I refused to take the drink, which wasn't what I'd ordered, so she remade it, but then I didn't trust that she'd made it right since she was pissed at me, so I ended up throwing it away anyway.  (I was worried that she hadn't used decaf, because caffeine freaks my heart out, or that she hadn't used skim, because unplanned calories still freak my brain out).

That put me in a bad mood, and I was still coffee-less, and even more frustrated because I was mad about the barista incident (and $4 poorer with nothing to show for it after I threw the drink away) and still super hungry.  I told myself to get a grip, drank a Fuze, and stuck it out til lunch.  I ate before my afternoon lab, around 12:30, and stomach was growling again by 2:00.  Snack before I went to my other lab at 3:00, and insistent hunger pains by 4:30.  Another snack when I got home at 5:15, barely took the edge off before dinner at 7:30.   So basically I am eating all the time, getting pudgier every day, and spending virtually all of the time hungry and thinking about food.  If I wanted to be hungry and food-obsessed, I could have stayed in ED-land and still fit into my favorite jeans, instead of having the worst of both worlds like I do now.

Yes, that line of thought is disordered, and no, deep down I don't think I mean it.  Really deep down, at least, so deep that I sometimes lose sight of it until I make a conscious effort to look.

Why am I putting myself through this?  What's the point?  Some things off the top of my head: I have gone beyond the intial stages of the novelty of having energy and have moved onto actual strenth, my memory is much better, my heart isn't fluttering erratically, my fingers aren't cold with purple nailbeds, my hair and nails are shinier, and my temperament feels much more stable.  I can do spontaneous activities like dancing with my dog, helping a neighbor carry stuff in from their car, etc etc without being constrained by my ever-growing energy debt.  I am most definitely more engaged with people and the world in general.  I don't count hours until I can crawl into bed every night, completely depleted and already dreading the next morning.  Days are still long and often hard, but I feel like I am starting to go beyond searching for the light and am starting to actually stick my head out of the proverbial tunnel, squinting in the brightness, forcing myself to deal with the pain of the new light until I can adjust enough to appreciate it.  

So, my body and my mind agree that recovery is confusing and frustrating, but when have I not been confused and frustrated?  I don't know, this whole thing is just strange, my feelings about the whole situation seem to see-saw constantly.

Body Blues

I am having major body anxiety.  If I feel this gross and alien before I even hit "normal" BMI range, how am I going to not just spontaneously combust at the weight that H. is pushing for?  I  hate the ED, I hate me, I hate that I can't seem to separate the two.

Evidence that life is indeed unfair:   I feel like a stomach on legs; I swear my belly enters the room before I do.  And yet, ZERO increase in the boobage department.   Why, why?  I know the cerebral answer to my own question, your body pads the organs in the abdoment first, yaddah yaddah, but it doesn't make my apple-ish shape any less frustrating. Embarassing question, but what is a blog without an occasional dose of TMI: For those of y'all that have been through this, do you have to get your period back before the bust begins to well, bust out of hiding? 

I still haven't made much progress with decreasing exercise (ok, I'll be honest, I have made no progress whatsoever), and frankly I have no idea how I'll be able to force myself to do that when I am already rapidly becoming disenchanted with this weight gain thing.  

I just hate my face. I hate the way it is shaped when it fills out. I look like a blonde potato. I have never had a good opinion about how I look, but in the past I could tell myself "You may not be be pretty, but at least you're thin."  Now I don't see myself as either, and it is kind of killing my confidence.  I've tried the "exposure therapy" that H. recommended, I still post pictures on Facebook, etc, she tells me that letting shame keep me from sharing shots of myself doing exciting things would be a score for the ED...but I can't help wondering whether everyone that sees them is going to be flabbergasted at my newly flubberized face.

So, all this whining about appearance, which is stupid and inconsistent in light of the my emotional flare-up when H. suggested that my thinking was superficial.  Oops.  It's not just how I look, though, this also just feels strange.  I haven't weighed this much since I was 15 years old, and I have to figure out how I'm going to identify myself if I'm going to give up the ED--which has been the main component of my identity for going on nine years now--and start to look/act more like a normal, healthy person.  

Today I saw one of the faculty mentors from a leadership thing that I went to this summer, and she was effusive with the "you look great, much better than the last time I saw you" comments.   Aaack so it is noticeable, quick, where is the nearest rock I can crawl under?  I forced myself to remember that most normal people like being paid compliments, in NormalSpeak "you look great" is actually a positive comment.  

Reading over this post, I feel bad because know a lot of these worries are shallow and trivial, I apologize for the rambling.  There are so many people with disabilities, injuries, illnesses, etc, and here I am whining about my f-ing face and bra size.  I'm starting to doze off on the keyboard, but tomorrow I'll make an effort to redeem myself by doing some brainstorming on on items to add to the "why recovery is worth it" list.  

What's the Point?

As I am sure everyone has realized by now, it is ELECTION DAY!  This isn't news to anyone, hopefully.  I was extremely excited about voting in this election.  Until recently I was completely ambivalent and mildly disdainful of politics, but this circus (ahem, I mean election) has really reeled me in to the point of obsession.  I feel really strongly about the issues at hand and the candidates involved.  Literally, no joke, I have had dreams about the candidates in various scenarios for the past FOUR nights in a row.  Yes, I think that's just as sad as you probably do.  

Anyway, for those of you that are all electioned out (I think even the newscasters are getting sick of the spin, everything that can be said about the candidates pretty much has been rehashed to the point of mush), I thought it would be interesting to discuss the voting itself.  Why do we get excited about casting our ballot?  Don't get me wrong, I'm not criticizing people for being excited, I was in line at 5:30 this morning to vote, and I was pretty pumped about it. But, do we really think our one vote is going to determine the outcome?  No, a single vote isn't going to make a difference, even in battleground states.  But we realize that if everyone thought like that, the whole system would be out of whack, so, consciously or otherwise, we realize the importance of exercising our right to go out there and build a powerful force out of individually insignificant actions.  I am the ultimate over-analyzer, so I find things like this fun, just wanted to share a post I found with some really interesting commentary on how voting behaviors are affected by psychology and a little bit of probability and economic theory: Why do we vote?

So, that's enough of my babble, happy Election Day, everyone!

Fire and Roosters and Cribbage, Oh My!

Tagged by Tiptoe wanting to know quirks about me.

Here are the rules:
1.Link to the person who tagged you
2.Mention the rules on your blog
3.Tell 6 unspectacular quirks about you
4.Tag 6 following bloggers by linking to them
5.Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger's blogs letting them know they've been tagged.

1) I am inordinately afraid of fire.  Actually, it is not exactly fire that scares me, it is more the prospect of being burned, if that makes sense.  There was an incident when I was about eight, I picked up a metal bar that had just come off of a bonfire, and I had 2nd and 3rd degree burns on my hands, the most excruciating thing I have ever dealt with, physically, at least.  Ever since then I have been way overly cautious about touching anything remotely hot, and I'm extremely paranoid about my place catching fire when I'm not there.  The duplex I live in right now has gas appliances, it seriously took me about a year to not be completely freaked out by having the constant open flames (pilot lights) all over the place.

2)  Although I have worked with a lot of animals that people tend to be afraid of, the only ones that really scare me are farm birds, specifically roosters and water fowl.  Chalk it up to traumatic childhood experience: when I was a kid I used to visit my uncle's ranch, and he had some terrible roosters that loved to attack me.  He wanted to punish them but could never catch them, so he decided to set me out as bait so he could jump out and get them.  Thus, some of my earliest childhood memories are of cowering down watching this huge demon bird charging at me.  I don't be liking roosters.  Also, I was attacked by a male swan one time, he bit my thumb so hard that it broke and he bruised me pretty badly with his wings, I looked like a child abuse case.  I guess that taught me an important life lesson: sometimes very pretty things can have very bad attitudes.

3)  I have always loved writing fiction as well as non-fiction, and I currently have the first 60,000 words of a novel sitting on my hard drive, waiting for my big break. 

4)  I LOVE cribbage.  It is sad that so few people are familiar with the game, because it's a lot of fun.  My family has cribbage tournaments every Christmas, and I am undefeated for seven years running.

5)  My favorite movie of all time is Grease, I have seen it roughly 218 times.  Yes, I am nerdy enough to have calculated and kept track.  Young John Travolta? Swoon.

6)  I am living proof of the fact that a single teacher can drastically change the course of a person's life.  I have always loved nature, and as a kid I was constantly doing "experiments" and smuggling critters into the house.  But my parents wanted me to go to law school, so until I was sixteen I was convinced I was going to go to Harvard Law and eventually end up on the Supreme Court.  I inhaled John Grisham novels, watched Law & Order religiously, and in the evenings while I did my homework I listened to C-Span with my mom (who started law school twice but could never finish because of my dad's career). Then I took an AP Biology class, and I was absolutely hooked. In the course of one semester I discovered this insatiable thirst  for knowledge about the world that shows no signs of abating, my current field of study inspires me with awe every single day.  I have most definitely found my passion, now I can't even fathom what life would be like if I had gone in the direction I'd originally planned.

Now I am supposed to pick six more people . . . I am always ultra-shy about tagging, because I am afraid that a) they will hate me for picking them or b) I will name someone that doesn't read my blog as often as I might think, which will become painfully obvious to everyone when I tag them and they remain oblivious, making me feel pathetically obscure and overly ambitious in claiming web buddies.  Maybe this counts as a 7th quirk, or maybe it just a fact of the reality of my insignificance in the blogosphere.  ANYWAY, if you haven't been tagged by this yet, consider yourself indirectly tagged, go ahead an cite me as your source, or leave a comment on here and I can tag you post hoc. ;)

Follow-Ups

Just wanted to follow up on a couple of things I posted about yesterday:

1) The restaurant expedition was a success, I think.  The place is really cool, it's like a Cold Stone Creamery for cereal and peanut butter (in case not all readers have those in their area, Cold Stone is an ice cream place where you customize your flavor and they make a big show of mixing the ice cream in front of you).  There were like 20 different cereals and 8 different base pb flavors, and tons of stuff to mix in with both of them.  Sounds great, but it was slightly overwhelming, tons of options.  BUT I think I did well, I tried to order what I thought really sounded good, and not let myself question what I "should" get.  To be honest it wasn't hard to calculate what I was eating, because everything they use is name brand stuff that I know the info for.  I'm a big measuring freak at home, so at least this took that option away from me.  I couldn't ask them to weigh out my portion before they rang it up, obviously.  So anyway, I told myself that I'd splurge and try the place once, but now  I might make a weekly trip over there, it's kind of a fun place and everything tasted really great, and now that I know what to expect from the options it will be less stressful to plan on going there.  

2) I hope that it didn't seem like I was completely unsympathetic and cold-hearted when J. temporarily succumbed to gravity the other day.  No worries, he was fine.  His pride will probably be bleeding for a week, but there was no structural damage.   If he had actually been hurt it would not have been a funny story.  One thing we share is a sarcastic sense of humor, remember his smartass remarks when I was semi-incapacitated with the tropical ooglies after I got back from my trip this summer?   Classic J., it's a good thing both of us can take it as well as we dish it out. ;)

Stepping Forward with Less Information

Challenge for the day:

I will eat lunch at a restaurant for which I have NO nutrition facts.  I can't tell you the last time I did this, certainly not in living memory.  Usually when I go out to eat I look up all the menu and nutrition info way ahead of time and already know what I'm going to order, and how much it will 'cost' calorically, before I even walk into the place.  And, usually, I "adjust" my food intake for the entire day to account for whatever I order.  They recently opened a really neat looking place across from campus, though, it's a "Coffee, Cereal, and Peanut Butter Bistro."  Those happen to be my three favorite food groups, no joke.  I must check this place out.  And I happen to have a break between classes and a meeting today that is not long enough for me to come home to eat, but is long enough to grab something close to campus, so if I'm going to try it sometime it seems like today is a good opportunity.  The bistro is small and independently owned, so NO website, NO nutrition facts, I'm just left to (gasp) order what I think looks good...

So, today, scary scary spontaneity.  Or that's the plan at least.  

A Hot Conversation

[I started this last night but dozed off, so all "today" references mean Monday]

It was COLD today.  Definitely the first real day of BRRR weather.  I have mentioned before that one big benefit to recovery is slightly less risk of spontaneously crystallizing and shattering from being cold ALL THE TIME.  I still hate cold, but I have noticed that my system is more robust and I'm not as susceptible to it as I have been in the past.

Apparently, I'm not the only one that has noticed the change.  J. and I were walking across campus today and I griped about the cold wind, and he mentioned that he was surprised I just had a sweatshirt instead of "The Blue Bubble" (his mocking term for my winter coat, this ultra-thick blue down jacket that is artic-rated; it makes me look like the a cross between a Smurf and the Michelin Man.  I could get hit by a bus in that thing and I'd just bounce.  It's super thick and bulky, but honsetly, bending your elbows is highly over-rated).  That led to a conversation that I had to share, I'd give anything to have the scene on video.  I could submit it for the next David Attenborough special, the Flirtation Rituals of Scientists in Their Natural Habitat.  Sans video, though, I guess I'll just post it here.  Poor J. 

C: BRRR.  This weather is uncalled for.

J: We're gonna need to find a new way to insulate you, winter really hasn't even started yet.

C: I think I'm going to handle the weather better this year.  

J: You're without the Bubble today, trying to build up tolerance?

C: Yeah well, hypothermia is so last year, the new trend is nonshivering thermogenesis, haven't you heard?

J: Ah, I think I rememberParis Hilton mention that in an interview recently.

C: Yup, metabolisms are sexy.

J: [Slips off curb and does an uber-ungraceful arm-waving thing to keep from sprawling in the street.  And fails.]

C: Obviously your buddy Paris didn't tell you that gravity is "in" every season, J, and apparently it doesn't like you.

J:  Isaac Newton has had it in for me ever since I got a C on that physics mid-term...

Reward Reminders

I feel like I'm hanging from an elastic string, sort of bobbing up and down aimlessly and never really getting anywhere. (My body feels great! My body feels gross.  Recovery rocks!  Recovery sucks.  This is worth it!  This is pointless.  I missed X food!  I'm a pig for eating X.  Etc, etc etc).

I am slowly realizing that I'm just going to have to come to terms with the bad days, or else that little piece of elastic that is suspending my sanity is eventually going to snap.  Some days will be good, some not, but I can't derail every time things get tough.  I have had terrible body image days this week; I am feeling a little less disgusting today (good), but only because the scale has been lower each morning for the past few days (bad).  Also, I think that to some degree I am just exhausted to the point of ambivalence, also not really good.  Is this semester over yet?

I am definitely in need of affirmations right now, reminders of why I'm putting myself through the recovery wringer in the first place.  So, just a few reasons that recovery is worth it:

1)MEMORY.  Last semester I would get immensely frustrated and more than a little scared when I studied, and studied, and studied, and still retained so little.  It's extremely disturbing to know that you've just looked at a piece of information, but find yourself unable to recall it.  I had to work twice as hard to remember half as much.  My grades didn't fall, but that was only due to extreme effort.  In contrast, now that my brain is out of starvation mode I am noticing a huge difference.  I have a semi-photographic memory, and now I'm back to where I only need to look at something once or twice for it to "stick." I will never take that for granted again.   Don't get me wrong, I'm not claiming any kind of superintelligence, I think it has little to do with IQ and everything to do with level of engagement.  Starving brains have more pressing things to worry about than ecological theories and the taxonomy of monotremes, and my favorite recovery reward so far is new mindspace for ideas and information.

2)HAIR.  When I was younger I would constantly complain about how thick my hair was: curly and unruly and generally a pain in the ass.  Sometimes it seemed so thick that I could have concealed a weapon in it.  Over the past few years it has thinned down quite a bit,  sort of surreal to watch.  I think it is starting to get back some shine now, though, and I'm not getting handfuls out of it every time I shower.  

3) ENERGY.  I have mentioned this before, but it's one that I really just can't get over.  Life is so much better when you are not in constant energy debt, it's amazing.  I actually played a spontaneous game of tag with G. in the backyard today, a few months ago I would have had no physical or mental fuel for something like that.  Everything was calibrated to get me through the daily routine with absolutely nothing left over.   Having some ooomph to actually live is definitely a reward.

Ok, I have three papers to finish this weekend, plus two exams coming up next week, so I'm going to stop procrastinating and get back to work.   Take care and have a great rest of the weekend, everyone.

A Promise for Next Year

I feel so disgusting.  I had a stretch of about a week or maybe even more where I felt good, strong, fit, almost comfortable, but yesterday and especially today have been terrible as far as body image.  Look at that gut!  If that face got any rounder I'd be a Cabbage Patch kid.  And H. wants me to gain how much more weight?  She has been hanging out with crazy people for way too long.

Do I realize these thoughts are irrational and unproductive?  Yes.  Does that stop me from obsessing over them? No.  Does it make any sense? No-but since when has that mattered?

I guess I'm just frustrated because I know, with every fiber of my being, that losing weight will not make me happy.  Being controlled by the ED is miserable, terrible, and incredibly wasteful of time, energy, and potential.  I'm supposed to be moving past that.  I could say I'm on the edge between bad and good, dark and light, ED and 'real life,' but I don't really think there's an "edge," it all seems very blurry right now.  I'm still obsessing just as much as I did X pounds ago, and I don't like it.  

I'm supposed to work on identifying triggers, according to H.  I haven't had a therapy session in two weeks, because H. was a at a conference and then out of town for a family emergency.  I don't really think lack of therapizing is the cause, though.  One possibility: I have never thought that I am very "triggerable" when it comes to seeing pictures, but I accidentally came across a bunch of "thinspiration" pictures the other day (I do NOT visit pro sites, I never have, the pics were posted on a site that is supposed to be recovery-positive), and those images kept coming back to my mind today when I was sitting in class loathing the feeling of my body.  Blah.  My knees and ankles are absolutely shot right now, but I still did did extra workouts just because I needed to vent and had this self-hatred thing going, I just wanted to sweat, pound, burn everything out of myself. 

Second possibility: weather has been gloomy for a couple of days, and that always makes my mood and general outlook on life plummet.  Woot for S.A.D.  

Third: maybe I am just really, really bad at this whole recovery thing.

So, because I routinely break private promises to myself and a public resoluton will help to keep me at least somewhat more accountable:

Dear Cammy,

Next year you are not allowed to spend your birthday behaving, thinking, or in any way resembling the way you spent today.  

That is all.

C.

Because Hell Can Indeed Freeze Over...

 If anyone doubts that hell can freeze over, let them try living with an eating disorder.  For a long time, possibly the biggest factor impacting my quality of life was COLD.  Forget the hunger pains, heart palpitations, stress fractures, etc . . . but holy shit I hate being cold.  When I go to the doctor, it's common for the nurse to take my temperature two or three times because she's sure it can't really be as low as the thermometer says.  Cold is terrible.  It seeps into your system, wraps around your bones, grips your whole being in this cruel torturous grasp that squeezes you at the same time it permeates throughout your body like some kind of frigid poison.   I can remember times that I have literally broken down and cried because I was so debilitatingly cold. 

It is no accident that I picked a university in an area were it's common for temps to be in the 70's over Christmas and people literally take pictures when their car windshields frost (about twice a year).  BUT it does get chilly sometimes (yes, "chilly" is relative, people here bundle up like they're heading for the Iditarod when it dips below 60), and the past few mornings it has really started to feel like fall.   ACK, Jack Frost is coming to commence with the annual ass-kicking that is winter.  

Thus, a new reason to appreciate the pounds I have put on and the general improvements in my physiology over the past few months.  I have an exam on mammalian metabolism tomorrow, so even studying has given me time to contemplate the fact that allowing my body to function like a real human seems to be pretty rewarding.  Am I ready to swim the English Channel?  No way.  I still get cold faster than most of my friends, and I still make sure I always have a sweatshirt or sweater with me no matter how hot it is outside (public buildings are ridiculously over air-conditioned), but it's slowly getting better and isn't anywhere near as dominating as it used to be.  Part of it is poundage and part of it is just a revved up metabolism, a reminder that taking care of my body affects both form and function.

So, today's things to be thankful for:

~Walking G. on a crisp fall morning and feeling invigorated by the chill, not completely dominated by it.

~No longer having icy fingers and a purplish tint to my nailbeds, even indoors.

~Hair that is slowly regaining shine and sheen, so it isn't a completely dry frizzball now that the summer humidity has retreated.

~Studying in the arboretum with J. in the evening, letting the air cool around us as the sun sets but being more aware of each other than the falling temperature.

~Bending down to tie my shoe, resting my cheek on my leg and feeling the heat coming off of my skin.  

My heat, that my body makes out of fuel that I give to it.  Power, anyone?