Blatant venting/whining

My brain is such a fucking mess right now. I had my first heaving sobbing cry in a while this morning, in the shower after my run, and I don't even know why. Except that right now it's not just that I'm unhappy, but that I can't imagine any feasible turn of events in my life that will make me happy. I'm busting my ass with a project I don't like in order to qualify myself for a career I don't even want anymore. But I'm not really qualified for anything else. How did I get here???

Post-Vacation Update and Other News

The good news: Last weekend's vacation was absolutely fantastic. The place was gorgeous, the wildlife was abundant and fascinating, and it was SO nice to just turn off "work mode" and enjoy Research Country for a few days. I know it may sound silly to take a vacation like that when I work on wildlife conservancies every day, but "work" is the important part of that fact. This trip was an awesome change of pace.

And truly, I kicked ass with food. I ate ad libitum. If I really liked something, I let myself have seconds. I had forgotten what it felt like to be really full and not in energy deficit. I managed to get a good amount of activity in but it was definitely a break for my body given my normal exercise routine.

The bad news: The guilt over all of that has led me to really double down on the same restrictive regime since I've been back. I don't know why I feel like if I gain any weight back at all before I fly home, no one will believe what a hard time I've had here. "Here" being in my brain, I guess? I know it doesn't make sense. I know most people don't even really notice a few pounds here or there, especially under clothes. But if making sense was what mattered my life would have been on a much different trajectory for all these years.

The better news: Remember H., my superstar therapist from undergrad years? The one who I truly believe helped to save my life back then? Well, I reached out to her a couple of weeks ago and she agreed to do Skype therapy sessions with me; had my first one this past week. It is SO nice to have her to talk to again. Since I've worked with her I've seen two other therapists and fired both of them, and had one dietitian sort of fire me. I'm not easy, it seems. But she seems to have just the right approach for me and is just really damn good. So that's happening.

Thanks to those who sent support to me about my trip. Take care and treat yourselves kindly, love y'all.

Almost Go-Time

My little mini-vacation is this weekend. It was supposed to make me feel spoiled and get me out of the little research centre bubble, but has actually just made me feel unspeakably stressed (although maybe has served as a wake-up call that I'm not in control of the food restriction as much as I was a couple of months ago).

Technically it starts today (Thursday) -- I have a lunch meeting (argh!) in town to talk to a property manager about sampling on his land, and I'm staying the night there with a friend so I can leave super-early for the drive to Vacation Lake tomorrow morning (Friday).

So, here we go. I'm sort of regretting the whole trip but I would have lost my deposit if I canceled it. Trying to psych myself up for the world-class wildlife viewing and the chance to feel a tiny bit pampered after so many months in grunge mode out here. Yesterday while out in the field I reached for a rock to weigh something down, picked up a piece of poop by accident, realized it, inspected it with interest, remembered the task at hand and traded it for a rock, and only then realized that most grown-ups don't nonchalantly handle feces in the course of their work days. Glamorous, no?

More updates soon, there has been movement on the "getting treatment" front but I don't have time to update on that at the moment.

Reach-Out Fails and Social Media

I’m just about sick of trying to reach out. For years and years, it was impossible for me. I lived inside a little box of glass and bone and internalized everything. I think being in a relationship with Match taught me how to open up a bit, although I still don’t confide in anyone to anywhere near the degree that I do to him. But lately, especially last week when I felt like depression and bleakness were going to just swallow me whole, I have actually been trying to reach out a bit. Dropping quick emails to friends back in the States, trying to touch base and not sit alone with all that I’m struggling with. I don’t necessarily tell them about the ED stuff, just that shit is hard.

And you know what? People are TERRIBLE at providing support. They hate talking about hard things. Humans are fucking superficial, even if they are otherwise great people. With the exception of Match and a couple of internet ED blog friends (possibly the only people who even still read this blog? You know who you are)—those exceptions have been lifesavers. But most people from “real life” that I have reached out to follow a predictable pattern:

I drop a quick note, asking how they are. They answer, asking how I am. I respond to their update on themselves, then I indicate things are a bit rough for me. They probe a bit. I tell them more. Then I get either no or very minimal responses, and feel awkward thinking about ever interacting with them again. People are terrible at handling hard stuff.

Again, this isn’t even at the level of “by the way I am relapsing with this eating disorder that has plagued me for the last 15 years and I am finally at a point where I think it could fuck up my professional goals because it is eating my brain and my life.” This is more like “I’m lonely and grieving and both family and research stuff are hard right now”. And people can’t even handle that. I’m fucking sick of putting myself out there and ending up even lonelier than before.

It reminds me of people's responses immediately after my Nana died. People want to act like they're being caring by asking how you are, but 99% of the time they really just want you to say you're fine and thank them for their thoughtfulness, and for that to be that.

Again, none of that applies to people likely to see this on the blog, so please don’t read this as a passive aggressive complaint. Y’all have been amazing in providing support, and even proactively reaching out to me unsolicited. I’m still sometimes hesitant to talk about the real nitty gritty of things, but the connections mean more to me than I can say.

So that’s that. Just needed to vent, I guess. The only people I’ve mentioned the ED relapse to are Match, people that read this blog, and my Mom. Match is a saint about it. I never thought I could be so open about ED stuff with someone who has never had one, but his level of insight in a lot of ways continues to surprise me. And I think seeing me go up and down with it has made it sort of a soapbox issue for him personally. I know at some level he is afraid this is what he'll lose me to. This is part of what he said in an exchange we had this morning, after I sort of grilled him about what he thought about certain actresses’ sizes so I could gauge what he thinks against my own untrustworthy perceptions:

Match: "I get angry at society for the set up. I get angry at men for allowing it to be such a huge part of romantic and sexual selection. I get angry at the level of buy-in so many people have at this system. It just seems like nothing justifies this archaic and barbaric set up. And I often feel completely powerless to do anything about it … let's say hypothetically a guy did want a size 0 girlfriend. Does that mean that for weeks, months and years she had to cater to that ideal? She can't eat a muffin or be lazy on the couch on Wednesday because he might want to look at her body on Saturday? It's way too big an ask."

In addition to Match, you ladies that might be reading this are life-savers, especially two of you. My mom basically offered to pay for Skype therapy sessions and now just avoids talking about the subject at all costs. She'd rather throw money at it than think about it. I wish I could do the same. I don’t give her all the details, of course, just tell her that I’m struggling again.

Another issue, to which I don’t feel like devoting a separate post: pictures on social media. I haven’t posted any pictures of myself since my first week here in January, when I was at the highest weight I’ve been at in a year or more. A couple of days ago I went to a SUPER mood-boosting session with a local womens’ group, and the ladies there were touching in so many ways. I can’t imagine growing up as a girl/woman in their communities. If you’re interested in the issues their group is working on, send me a message; discussing it here would give away my geographic location and make me pretty identifiable.

ANYHOW, my group picture with them is the first one I’ve posted of myself since January. And as soon as I hit the “Post” button on Facebook I got worried that anyone who sees it will never take me seriously about struggling with food lately. I knew there might be photos that day and wore a loose-fitting shirt on purpose so as not to be body-conscious, but then, like always, I ended up just appalled at how shapeless and “poofy” I looked in the photo.

So why whine about the photo, why just not post the fucking thing, Cammy? Because being involved with those women is the most meaningful thing I do out here, and I really didn’t want to let ED voices in my head keep me from sharing that. I’m aware that I’m having experiences that very few people are lucky enough to have, and want to be able to embrace and share that. I hate myself for the fact that I had an awesome day with inspiring women, women that have overcome unbelievable challenges, and the first thing I think of when I look at the photos is whether the shadows make my thighs look big. I disgust myself on so many levels.

Of course, I know that anyone who knows ED stuff knows better than to gauge disordered status on someone’s weight at a given time. And I’m probably a terrible evaluator of my own body right now. But I still worried that if I do decide to reach out to anyone, they’ll look at that and think “what is this crazy lady talking about? She looks fine, must be attention-seeking.” Does anyone else do that?

I know long posts tend to be read less, so I should wrap this up. I hope everyone is having a great weekend. And again, none of the venting about reaching out is aimed at the people that I know read this blog.

PS:

Final vent: the fact that I will be 29 this year and still have to register for classes online in order to keep my health insurance is starting to feel a bit ridiculous. #phdlife

The Shift

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So I’m aware of a shift in thought-processes the past few days or so that is finally enough to scare me. Ever since I got to Research Country, I’ve told myself that all of my restrictive eating and intense exercising is so that I can "afford" to indulge on town trips; food is SO monotonous here most days. I convinced myself I was “earning” the right to splurge when given the opportunity. I’m not saying this was healthy, or right, or justifiable. But that’s what it was.

And until recently I was good at that. Really good at that, actually.  I could go in and order nearly whatever I wanted, telling myself it was my “day off.” Want that pizza? Done. The cocktail too? Sure. Banana split? You got it, girl.

Getting “better” at eating out is an ED victory . . . but the whole thing was predicated on me knowing I’d be back at my usual restrictive regime the next day, so the calories were really a wash within about 24 hours.

But I think I’m feeling a shift. From looking forward to those town/trip days as a nice break worth sacrificing for to seeing them as something to fear and stress about.

Background: Since Match can’t travel out to visit me this year, I planned a little mini-vacation for myself, a couple of weeks from now. Just a two nights at a hotel in a nearby national park. My research permit here means I can get resident rates at tourist lodges, which means I can afford to stay in a pretty nice place (resident rate means essentially a 75% discount on hotels and park fees).  

I know that every meal there is buffet, and when I booked the trip I was looking forward to it as a way to get a break from my super-monotonous, restrictive routine here. Like, truly looking forward to it with excitement, like a goddamn normal person ready to take a break from their diet.

But recently, I’m starting to shift to fearing it more and more, to the point that I have tossed around the idea of just canceling the trip.  It’s not like somehow I will undo a few months of weight loss in two days, right? I know it doesn’t make sense. But I’m working myself up to the point of being unspeakably stressed about it, which sort of defeats the purpose of taking myself on a lakeside vacation.

I think up to this point I thought I was pretty in control of this slide, but this gripping fear of breaking my eating routine, of dreading something I’d set up to be a treat . . . it’s actually starting to scare me about bigger things.

The Answer

As usual, PostSecret finds a way to hit the nail on the head.


Just the other day I was talking (lamenting/whining) to Match about how right now I honestly can't even conjure a prediction as to what will ultimately make for a happy and contented life. I don't have the energy for anything. I have no clue what the answer is.

Chugging along but doubting

I feel like I need to say something but don’t know what to say. Things are chugging along here. I haven’t really decreased food relative to what I was consuming the last time I updated, but I think the deficits are catching up to me in various ways. Every dream I’ve had for weeks now has been about food -- really vivid ones. I am failing to get data entry and proposal-writing done because whenever I have a decent internet signal I spent all my time looking at menus online for every place I plan to be over the next four months and planning exactly what I’ll order everywhere. I’ve gotten good at shifting into “vacation mode” and eating pretty liberally on town days or trips, and I think that is sort of what is buoying me through the normal routine here at “home,” both energetically and in terms of morale (ie, I do know I get treats periodically and have that to look forward to).

I think this is the first time I’ve really questioned whether I can finish this PhD program (not whether I want to, that hit as my mid-PhD crisis last summer, but literally whether I can pull it off). I just don’t have the mental energy to stay as efficient and proactive as I need to be to squeeze what I need out of this field season, and I feel like a lot of other things are slipping through my fingers as well. I just don’t know.