An Exercise in Being "Fine"

The trip this weekend was...interesting. I have mixed feelings about it, which is typical.

I mentioned in my pre-trip post that I was tempted to back out of the whole thing. Partly due to stress in travel and breaking routine, and partly because I have truly been feeling very depleted and run down after all the physical and emotional strain involved in moving. I run on a very thin energy margin, and extra exertions quickly put me in the red. I have had heart problems in the past, and when I'm slipping with eating/exercise I still get chest pains and palpitations. It scares me to think that they used to be just a fact of life for me. Not "will I have chest pains today" but "how bad will they be?" My junior year of high school I actually checked myself out of 4th period, drove myself to the doctor, and demanded an EKG because I could feel my heart getting so out of control. I didn't tell my mom until 3 days later, when I had already made myself an appointment with a cardiologist in a nearby big city. I wore a Holter monitor for 24 hours, and went to the cardiology appointment by myself the day after Christmas.

Anyway, the cardiac stories are tangential to the topic of this post, sorry the main thing is that in addition to having zero energy, my heart had been acting up late last week. I was supposed to leave for the weekend trip (which involved staying at a friend of the family's vacation house in the mountain and doing a lot of hiking in the surrounding area) on Saturday morning. I felt so cruddy and low energy, but forced myself through the morning workout and everything else anyway. Then I came really close to fainting, and the palpitations were bad. As exercise-obsessed as I am, the LAST thing I felt like doing was setting off for a trip that involved hiking, etc.

My mom had taken off work so she'd have a long weekend, and the friend who owns the house had also gone out of her way to arrange to be there for the weekend, so me backing out at the last minute would have been an annoyance and inconvenience for everyone. Still, I felt so bone-achingly terrible that I called my mom to tell her I wasn't sure if I felt up to coming. She knows I have anxiety over breaks in routine, and even though I tried to explain to her that I truly felt ill, she thought I was just making up excuses to hide the fact that I am just a neurotic spazz and didn't want to come. She didn't use those words, but that was the message. Then she did the whole huffy "Well, just don't come, then, just don't come" thing in a way that made it obvious everyone would be pissed if I chose that option.

I really didn't know what to do. I actually did want to go, despite the break in routine, because I love being out in nature and I was truly looking forward to visiting with the friend and her daughter (who is roughly my age), plus having time with my mom. But I felt like a squashed bug, physically. I was feeling weak and light-headed (I hadn't eaten anything after the fainting episode that morning and my decision-making faculties were not at their sharpest), and was on an emotional edge as a result. (Tiptoe, by the way, was great support to me that morning via text, she is seriously the most amazing friend possible and definitely deserves a shout-out).

Most of all, I was just so frustrated and disappointed that either 1) I couldn't make my mom understand what was going on or 2) it was clear and she was willfully refusing to acknowledge it. So I sent her a text message saying that when I said I was feeling "ill" I meant that was having chest pains and had almost passed out, and of course then she went into ultra Worried Mommy mode, and called me immediately to tell me I should go to the ER. I used to walk around with even worse pains and palpitations every day, but she obviously had no concept of what I used to live with day-to-day (despite the whole cardiologist debacle from a few years ago, see above), which just pissed me off more. So then I went into Brat Mode and decided I would insist on going on the trip anyway, just out of spite because I knew she was worried. Did I mention my head wasn't quite screwed on all the way at this point?

So I packed up the car, loaded the dog, and set out. I talked to her about 20 minutes into the trip (I called to tell her I'd be running late; I had to turn back for something I had forgotten to put in the car), and it was like a brand new clean slate. No mention whatsoever of me feeling ill, being upset (the earlier convo had been a big sobbing blowout), or anything out of the ordinary for the morning. Case closed, grit your teeth and dig out the Happy Family mask.

I had some food on the way there, which made me feel a little less shaky, both mentally and physically. Of course, since I was traveling I drastically slashed my calories from the meal plan. I'd been told we were all bringing our own food to just do our own thing (the house is very remote), but it turned out that the friend wanted to cook, and made nothing I was comfortable with, except for the salad my mom had brought for me. She asked me once that evening how I was feeling, and I just did the tight-lipped "fine" response and she didn't pursue it. I really think that although I'm still technically underweight, because I don't really sickly anymore she has a hard time wrapping her brain around the fact that I can still be doing poorly and feeling ill.

We did the hike the next day. It wasn't really long or strenous (it was 20 degrees cooler up in the mountains than here), and despite the slashed calories I may have actually stressed my body more if I was home doing my exercise routines and walking in the heat.

It was fine. I was fine. Everything was fine. We were talky and cheery and the Fine Facade was flawless. I ate enough of my granola bar stash to get through the hike, and Mom made sure there was always salad at the table so I'd be able to put stuff in my mouth like everyone else at meals. There were a lot of times when my mom and I were alone that either one of us could have broached the subject, but we didn't. We did touch on it on the phone as we were driving back to our respective cities, and she always says that she's not trying to ignore it, but doesn't really think that "nagging" me about it will do much good, and feels like I will get mad no matter what she does.

I can understand this to some degree, because I can be a major awkward bitch sometimes if I feel like someone is intruding on my food/exercise rules. But with her, it's not so much that I want her to DO anything as to just acknowledge that I'm struggling. She doesn't even have to understand, I just want some sign that she's aware I'm having a hard time, instead of playing Happy Perfect Daisies all the time. I've told her repeatedly that I have a hard time eating at family gatherings, that I actually eat just a fraction of my meal plan. And then at dinner the only "safe" alternative she offers is a garden salad, when she knows I struggle with getting enough calories to feel healthy in situations like that. The salad was a perfect out, and my ED voice rejoiced, but I also felt like it further reinforced the degree she doesn't "get" or doesn't want to address what's going on. She is conscious enough about her own diet to know that just because I'm shoveling in lettuce and filling my stomach doesn't mean I'm getting what I need.

Now I'm rambling and whining. Sorry. Just needed some major ventage. I want to emphasize that I love my mom dearly, we are very close and she is fantastic in every department except for the ED Stuff. But when the ED Stuff is what has been running my life for close to a decade, that can be significant.

I wish more than anything that I could be the healthy, fun, free daughter that she likes to pretend that I am.