SlimcaNO

One of the ironies about having an eating disorder is that it can inspire you to eat some pretty disgusting things. This is a huge red flag as to how an eating disorder differs from a purely health-oriented "diet," (although honestly all "diets" are a little disordered, it's all about lifestyle, but I won't go off on that tangent right now). Genuinely eating for health means consuming adequate amounts of high quality, wholesome foods. The diet industry, though, has made a killing in marketing all kinds of newly concocted "foods" that offer maximum volume for minimal calories.

Artificial sweetners are everywhere, and the message is that we should strive to find foods that offer maximum volume (more in your belly!) for minimal substance. It's like this nationwide summons, a mass scramble to find items that allow you to eat whatever you can for as little calories as possible, even if that means consuming decidedly UNhealthy pseudo-foods. Be fit with wholesome foods, or buy the products that promise you'll fit into those skinny jeans?

The thing is, unnatural things taste, well, unnatural. They do not make our systems happy. But as I recently experienced, it's amazing how fast your taste buds become innured to assaults from the impalatable. Also, when your body and brain are screaming for nutrition, even yicky tasting things seem appealing. I'm sure many people that have had eating disorders or have been on any type of diet have noticed this: when you're hungry, even things you normally wouldn't choose start to look pretty enticing. Even if you know that "diet" alternatives are loaded with chemicals and additives, it doesn't serve as much of a deterrent.

So, I write this spiel about how unhealthy all of that is, and yet I'm very guilty. I have a compartment in my purse that is designated for stashing Splenda packets from coffee shops. I eat "sugar free angel food cake." What the hell is that, by the way? Isn't angelfood cake pretty much just fluffy sugar? Is the sugar-free version even really a valid food? Do I even want to know?

I no longer drink carbonated drinks, but in previous eras of my life I consumed oceans of diet soda. I truly mourned the olestra chips when they took them off the market. I have four different flavors of Crystal Light powder in my cabinet right now, and I even disgraced my wonderful Kashi waffles with Sorbee "syrup" (more like brown Splenda water) this morning. I have diet V8 juice, possibly the best example of an empty version of an originally healthy product. Guilty as charged, many times over.

But I have finally discovered a line that even I cannot cross, a threshold of gustatory abuse that has finally cowed both me and the ED. I refuse to ever subject my Splenda-saturated and olestra-oiled physiology to this again. The story:

The other day I was cruising the produce aisle at Kroger and spotted a strange green fruit I had never seen before. I was intrigued, and saw that it was labeled as a "Slimcado." A new race of avocados, bred to have less fat and calories! Hallelujah! I bought three.

Disclaimer: It should be noted that Slimcados are still not fat or calorie free, by any stretch of the imagination, but they are reduced enough to make them an appealing option at first. And technically I'm on the bulk-up plan with my nutritionist right now, so real avocados are ok (I am trying very hard to tell the story without being triggering, avocados ARE very healthy, good choices!). But I can never resist an experiment, and I wanted to try this newfangled fruit out for myself.

Yes, avocados are fruits, by the way, as are tomatoes, squash, cucumbers, and many other things that have had their phylogeny misconstrued and misrepresented to the public for decades. Sad, sad, sad.

So I rush home with my new find, and get down to business. Slice it up...a little stiffer than a normal one, but that's ok, no biggy. I concocted a beautiful turkey-avocado-cheese wrap (I am making an effort with food, genuinely, despite my recent flatline in recovery progress). So, looks great, then comes the taste test....

ACK. Sacrilege! It was like green paint and earwax, with the texture of rubber sandals. BLECH. This stuff is criminal. I literally scrubbed my tongue with a washcloth. Terrible! I'm surprised that whatever tree it grew on didn't shrivel up and die when that thing sprouted. I bet an entire species of insect pollinator is in danger of extinction after being exposed to orchards of this stuff.

Even G.--who has been in famished beast mode ever since I rescued him from doggy jail and his hunger strike--slinked out of the room when I offered him the plate.

So, the point of this ridiculously long tale is: just say NO to the Slimcado! Avocados are good for you anyway, and the slight reduction in nutrition stats is no compensation for the trauma your taste buds will sustain. My public service announcement for the day.

(PS: I later did some research, and found out that the "Slimcado" is a market-oriented strain of the Florida avocado (one of 56 different lines within the Flroida variety!), which has been selectively bred to be lower in fat so it can be marketed as such to people in search of guilt-free guacamole. The old classic is the California avocado. They are still considered the same species, just different "breeds." You can tell them apart easily, the Florida version is much larger and isn't wrinkled like the California. See below, Florida is on the top, California on the bottom)

Image credits: (aspartame molecule, Florida avocado, California avocado)

"It's the Only One You've Got"

I usually don't like to just post song lyrics, I feel like it seems as if I'm trying to fill space without doing much work, but I did want to share this song, and it's Friday afternoon so hopefully I can be excused for slacking off. 3 Doors down is my favorite band, although I was disappointed in their last album (nothing lives up to their 2nd album, 'Away from the Sun'). This track, however, really hits home with me, it's the most-listened to on my recovery playlist right now. I guess it just seems relevant to a lot of the things I debate about with myself every day. There is no official music video for it yet, but there is a high quality video of a live performance here, or you can listen to the studio version without video here. If embedded clips and copied and pasted lyrics offend you as a reader (I don't mind them on other blogs, but don't feel quite right about them on my own, feels like cheating), sorry in advance, back to normal programming soon. Main verses are in bold, chorus is unbolded if you prefer to avoid redundancy, but I highly recommend just listening to it.

"It's the Only One You've Got" by 3 Doors Down

How do you know where you're going
When you don't know where you've been
You hide the shame that you're not showing
And you won't let anyone in
A crowded street can be a quiet place
When you're walking alone
And now you think that you're the only
One who doesn't

Have to try
And you won't have to feel
If you're afraid to fight
Then I guess you never will
You hide behind your walls
Of maybe nevers
Forgetting that there's something more
Than just knowing better
Your mistakes do not define you now
They tell you who you're not
You've got to live this life you're given
Like it's the only one you've got

Memories have left you broken
And the scars have never healed
The emptiness in you is growing
But so little left to fill
You're scared to look back on the days before
You're too tired to move on
And now you think that you're the only one who doesn't

Have to try
And you won't have to feel
If you're afraid to fight
Then i guess you never will
You hide behind your walls
Of maybe nevers
Forgetting that there's something more
Than just knowing better
Your mistakes do not define you now
They tell you who you're not
You've got to live this life you're given
Like it's the only one you've got

What would it take
To get you to say that I'll try
And what would you say if
This was the last day of your life

You hide behind your walls
Of maybe nevers
Forgetting that there's something more
Than just knowing better
Your mistakes do not define you now
They tell you who you're not
You've got to live this life you're given
Like it's the only one you've got

"Superficial"

Today it finally happened: I cried during a therapy session, for the first time in my life. I have seen a total of three psychologists over the past eight years, but have never been brought to tears before. Congratulations, H., you achieved the impossible and cracked through Cammy's iron emotion shield. I don't cry in public, it's one of my personal Laws of Life. But then again, as a general rule I don't cry in private, either. That's a post for another day.

Unfortunately, today's tears were not the result of some emotional breakthrough or insightful revelation. I wish I could say I had "seen the light" and couldn't contain the upwelling of emotion. Honestly, though, I just plain got my feelings hurt.

It came after this comment from H.: "This is hard for you to see because you're too superficial."

Godfuckingdamnit. To say that she hit a nerve would be the understatement of the century. I see superficial, shallow people around campus all the time, and I can't think of a greater insult. I run myself into the ground, both physically and mentally, every.single.day in my constant, frenetic attempts to find some meaning or purpose for my life. I have ideas, I care about people, I have goals and ambition. I am passionate. I'm the president of a very issue-oriented organization. I participate in three different peer mentoring groups on campus. I am teaching a freshman class this semester. I have designed and conducted scientific experiments, and some of my work has been published. I am a good listener when my friends need an ear. I adopted an abused dog with emotional issues and have rehabilitated him to become a beautiful, confident, loving animal (he still has his quirks, but who doesn't?). I belong to a discussion group that meets weekly to go over current science news and literature. I call my grandmother three times a week, just to chat. I have friends that are funny, caring, and interesting; I enjoy and appreciate them because of who they are, not what they wear or what they look like. If I am still "superficial," then what do I have to do to be deeper, to be complex and interesting, to have a niche and an identity? This compulsive quest--to find some way to justify my place in this world--consumes my life, trying to round out something that always seems to fall flat at the end of each long day.

But H. is a psychologist, she studies people for a living, so she should know, I guess. What are the DSM criteria for being "superficial?" I think she was trying to emphasize how the ED drowns out all other thoughts and makes you pretty single-minded about destroying yourself. Rationally, I can appreciate that. But at the time it just felt like she rammed a knife into my sorry excuse for a soul and twisted it.

Maybe this is a breakthrough after all. It's an easy explanation for the ED, right? Maybe I am nothing but a one-dimensional, superficial bimbo that just wants to be skinny. That would make everything so much simpler.

One thing that I wish someone could explain, though:

If my life is so shallow, why can't I keep myself from drowning in it?

Lack of ideas for appropriate title

Just finished my weekly session with H., the second one in a row that has been rough and frustrating. I have come to the conclusion that I pretty much fail. As a patient, as a person, at life in general.

Step by step

For a long time, I refused to admit that I had a problem. Disorder, what disorder? Everyone wants to be thin, women are supposed to watch what they eat, and exercise is good for you. No problem here. Now mind your own damn business and let me exercise until my gym clothes are bloody.

Eventually, it got to the point that I could no longer fool myself into thinking that my behaviors were normal. I saw other people enjoying life, I observed their energy and vitality like an observer standing apart, remote, watching through a window. Or bars. Or maybe it was me that was inside the bars. I just knew that the place I was in was very, very wrong, but didn't have the voice to ask for help or the courage to reach out.

Last December I finally admitted that I couldn't do it on my own anymore. After over 8 years of insisting that I could take care of things myself, that everything was under control, I had to bury that delusion and reach out for help. After some bad therapy experiences as an adolescent I had sworn up and down that I would never set foot in a psychologist's office, ever again. Well, I did. It had taken me the better part of a decade, but I finally wanted help. I found a psychologist, set up a consultation, and nearly died of anxiety and uncertainty about that first appointment. And to my utter shock, I actually liked her. Now, I thought, here is my chance. This woman is in the business of fixing people, and she is willing to work with me. Surely I'll be mended in no time.

Now I am realizing that there is another step beyond just wanting help. Now I have to learn how to allow people help me. How to break down the walls, how to trust others when they claim to care about me. I'm not quite there yet, even after seeing H. for 9 months I still have a hard time articulating my thoughts, and the ED voices in my head are still screeching in desperate attempts to block out her advice and insights.

Allowing someone to help you doesn't mean that you can just sit back and let yourself be "fixed." Wave the therapy wand, make the pain go away, everyone goes out for ice cream afterwards. If only.

Allowing others to help is not the last step. When you truly allow someone to help, you don't ask them to save you. You let them teach you enough to finally help yourself, the ultimate light at the end of the tunnel.

Rationalization Quote

"Our mental life is governed mainly by a cauldron of emotions, motives, and desires which we are barely conscious of, and what we call our conscious life is usually an elaborate post hoc rationalization of things we really do for other reasons."
~Dr. V. S. Ramachandran

Fish Wisdom

I am a little embarrassed about my minor melt-down post a couple of days ago. I promise y'all, I'm usually not such a wimp. Thanks so much for the supportive comments, they meant a lot. Things are just . . . I don't know. I have gotten really great news about a couple of important things over the past 24 hours, but I honestly couldn't even summon much of a reaction to the good news. That makes me feel like an ungrateful @#$%#, but everything is just numb, I have too much to think about to let myself feel anything. Even though the ED issues are not new, this level of stress about other things is definitely unprecedented. I feel like I'm on the cusp of a "quarter-life crisis" (ha), trying to figure out where I need to aim myself (recovery-wise, mostly, but in other areas as well) and why it's worth the effort.

I had an extremely rough session with H. today. I've just got way too many things zinging around my mind and way too little time/energy to focus on getting them sorted out. I'm not going to let this turn into a whine session like the last post. I just wanted to let you know that I appreciated the comments and support, this is supposed to be a recovery blog and I am indeed trying to work my way in that direction. I think Dori says it best: