Mary Lou's Weigh Scale

Has everyone heard about Mary Lou Retton's new "Weigh Scale," and if so, any thoughts on it?

Get a clue, Dr. Phil

The Philster majorly pissed me off today.  He did a show featuring a young boy (13, I think?) with an ED, and paraded his ignorance about the issue all over the stage.  I didn't sit down to watch the show, but I had it one as I was doing things in the house and heard a couple of comments that really had me fuming:

Example:

He asked the boy if he ever "just woke up hungry."  The boy said yes, but he just told himself to ignore it and that was it.  Phil chuckled and said "I'm sure there are plenty of women that wish they could learn how to do that!" 

Example:

Later, they were talking about causes of EDs in males vs females (Rachel had an excellent post about that issue today, by the way), and he said "for females it's all about control," and then had some other comment about how it's entirely different for males.  I disagree that it's all about control for females and that none of it is about control for males, you just can't be that black and white when you're talking about people.

Ok, this was a rant post, but I have been disgusted with the way he has dealt with ED shows in the past and today was no exception.  I admit I didn't watch the whole thing, maybe he spouted gold nuggets of wisdom when I wasn't looking, but I wouldn't stake a bet on it.

EDIT: In retrospect, I didn't mean for this to come across quite so vitriolic.  I have just always felt like Dr. P has ED sufferers on his show more for the shock value of the skeleton-pictures than for anything else, I have been really disappointed in similar episodes of the show in the past, and I probably should not rail too strongly against a show I didn't watch in its entirety.  Apologies.  But I still don't like him.

Oops

So, I somehow managed to misinform myself about the day that classes start for the spring semester.  I was convinced that the first day back was Thursday, but I found out around 9:00 tonight that it is actually tomorrow.  Oops.  It's funny because I've talked to/gotten together with friends every day this week, it's not like I've been living under a rock.  I guess the starting day of classes is taken to be such common knowledge that it was never specifically mentioned.  

So now I have to overhaul my gameplan for tomorrow, just minor details like when to wake up, workout, etc, when/how much to eat, blah blah.  I hate sudden changes of plans, but I'm much better about handling it than I used to be.  The only major problem will be that I had an important vet appt for G. at 11, which I won't be able to make because I have class from 10-12.  Hopefully they'll let me bring him in the afternoon instead, the appt is just to have blood drawn so they can run pre-op tests, he's having a small mass removed from his hip on Thursday.  I am so incredibly nervous about having him under the anesthesia, and anxious that they'll discover the lump is malignant or something...can't let myself think about that right now, though.

Anyway, I can't believe I flaked out on knowing the first day of class.  I can now officially blame it on senioritis, though, it seems crazy that this is my last semester here!

Keeping Afloat

I came across a quote today that was rather thought-provoking, just felt like sharing.  The source was actually Michael Oakeshott, writing about politics military/diplomatic activity, but I think that you could apply the same idea to life in general.  Sometimes I think we spend too much time looking for easy outs, the quick fix to everything, instead of focusing on finding balance and internal stability.

"...there is neither harbor for shelter nor floor for anchorage, neither starting place nor appointed destination. The enterprise is to keep afloat on an even keel."

Bumbled Attempt to Communicate

So, the Talk did not go Well.  Immediate tearful meltdown (not on my side, I don't do crying), various messy defensive tactics (on both sides), lots of muddling for that ever elusive phenomenon, communication.  Articulation, articulation, wherefore art thou, articulation . . . not here, that's for sure. I'm not sure which is worse, how much this situation sucks or how much I suck at dealing with it.  More details later after I have done more processing.

It brings to mind one of my favorite Lost quotes, one that is simple and probably pretty mundane, but still really struck home when I first heard it.  Juliet tells Jack she had a therapist on the island, and he gives her a weird look, then she responds:

It's stressful being an Other, Jack.

No shit.

And Now for Something Completely Different

What is a blog without an occasional Monty Python allusion in the title, right?

First, thanks so much for all the support people gave after my last post.  I always feel guilty after doing purely vent posts, but I think writing it out provided some much-needed relief.  Goal for tomorrow is to try to have a Talk about all of those issues with my mother, we'll see how that goes...

So anyway, to take a break from my whining and rambling about ED stuff, I had an interesting experience this weekend.  On Friday (yesterday) I got a Facebook message from a guy I literally hadn't talked to or seen in over a year (he was a master's student here, but graduated and moved on to do his PhD at Huge Far Northern University), asking if I wanted to go out today.  

My gut reaction to any such invitation is always a big fat NO.  No, I don't want to disrupt my routine, no, I have X, Y, and Z to complete for school/work, no, I have already planned what and when to eat for the day, no, that would interfere with a workout, etc etc.  I rank a big fat zero on the spontaneity scale.  Plus, I don't know the guy all that well.  We were friendly, but never got together outside of class while he went to school here.  Is this semi-stranger really worth rearranging my day?

But then I stopped to think about it.  Classes aren't in session, I've made good progress on the latest batch of grant applications, and no one else is really in town to hang out with.  Except for walking G., I hadn't left the house in two or three days.  Why not spare a couple of hours of my weekend?

So, uncharacteristically for me, I agreed to go, on less than 24 hours notice.  And I went.  And I actually had a great time.  So yay for breaking 'rules,' maybe I'll do more of that in 2009.

Frustrated with Denial

As I'm sure everyone is sick of hearing, I have a great relationship with my mom.  But the ED has always been a wall between us, and after my brief foray to my parent's house for the holidays, I am really frustrated and almost disturbed with the degree to which my parents just don't seem to "get it," even nine years after I first got sucked into this hellhole.

I get the feeling that now that I have H., my mom feels absolved of having to worry about the ED so much.  I finally sought help, it's in a professional's hands, woo hoo. Problem solved, mission accomplished.  If only it were that simple.

Also, my mom loves to think that the sun rises and sets on her kids.  And usually I oblige and perform.  You want a precocious kid?  I'll learn to read at age 3, do the accelerated classes in grade school, zip through AP courses in high school.  You want SATs? I'll give you perfect scores. You want extra-curriculars?  I'll run myself into the ground with volunteering, organizations, etc.  You want college credentials?  I'll deliver a dean's list certificate every semester. You want a kid you can trust?  I'll pay for my own car (which I won't crash), I'll work three jobs, I'll always meet my curfew, I'll date nice boys that call you ma'am.  You want cool pictures and stories?  I'll apply for internships all over the globe so you can show your friends how your daughter has chased critters across various continents.   You want a built-in best friend? I'll be personable, funny, and companionable. I'll send witty e-mails and call you every day, I'll sparkle when I meet your co-workers and friends, I'll be your shopping/cafe pal when I visit.  

You want a mental health problem? Probably not.  But when I develop one anyway, I'll have the one that is associated with type-A high acheivers, with people who are driven and successful despite their daily daliance in self-destruction.  It could have been much worse.  I could be on drugs, I could be pregnant, I could have contracted a terminal STD, I could have any number of other mental illnesses that rendered me unable to function.  Thank god for anorexia, right?  Even my psych problems have been as optimal for you as possible, given the alternatives.

But wait, you want recovery?  Here I stumble.  And fail.  Again, and again, and again.  After everything I have done right, is it too much to ask for you to acknowledge that I lose sometimes, to give me permission to be human?  If we pretend I'm not losing, what's the incentive to learn how to win?

But you're so used to seeing me deliver, that by default you assume that I'm a champ.  So you assume any attempt at recovery, no matter how feeble and half-assed, is yet another victory. You pay the bill from the psychology office every month, occasionally ask how I'm feeling, and congratulate yourself on producing a daughter with the perseverance and strength of character to overcome such an insidious disease.  I've put on some weight, I go to my sessions every week, of course I'm coming through this with flying colors.  I try to let you know how much I'm struggling, but you just frame it as a sign of progress that I'm opening up to you about the things that used to hurt me.  One more accomplishment underway, now let's just forget about that nasty old ED and think about daisies and rainbows.

Guess what? I haven't excelled at this.  In fact, I totally suck at this.  You may not want to believe it, but I'm a mess.  I still spend X hours a day exercising, I still weigh myself multiple times a day, and I still tally calories obsessively.  I still have skinny jeans lurking in my closet, because I'm not confident enough in this whole recovery thing to be sure I won't need them again.

But it seems to be too much to ask for this to be acknowledged.  

Example 1: Last week my mom told me she'd never mentioned my ED issues at all to my younger brothers.  They have witnessed me acting strangely, looking sick, etc, and have never had any of it explained to them.  I guess I had just assumed that at some point it would have warranted being addressed, and that it had been done privately with them to avoid putting me on the spot. 

Example B: While I was at home, I told my mom I was only eating about X% of my normal daily calories while I was at her house.  The response? "Oh, you shouldn't be self conscious, this is your home too."  Then an immediate change of subject.  The issue wasn't mentioned again.

Example 3: Just this morning, I told her how much weight I'd lost at her house.  Response: "I'm sorry, honey...I know you must be frustrated..." And then she started talking about her hair appointment for later today.  I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.   Yes, it's more of a gut than I've had in years past, less than in other years, but the sinking, twisting feeling of disappointment and invalidation is worse than any hunger pain that said gut has ever felt.

Yes, mama, I'm frustrated as hell, but not about the weight loss.  I'd love to lose twice as much if I wasn't inconveniently aware that it might kill me.  I'm frustrated because she seems to have a fundamental lack of understanding about the degree to which the ED is still a huge destructive force in my life.

In all other areas we get along great and she is an attentive, intuitive mother.  The ED is just this black box of an issue that she can't seem to penetrate, or doesn't want to, or both.  I think that when H. is back from vacation next week I will ask her about doing a phone session with my mom, I just hate this feeling of being misunderstood and invalidated.

This post has become way too long, and I'm exhausted in more ways than one, so further thoughts and news from the holidays later.