'Fight Song'

Taking a break for something positive and slightly cheesy: I still keep a recovery playlist, and I just discovered and added this song this week; the music video actually choked me up a bit the first time I watched it, as totally corny as that sounds. Especially the "wrecking balls inside my brain" bit, which is a pretty good description of what an ED feels like sometimes. Anyway, this is it, 'Fight Song' by Rachel Platten; the video is pretty good. I had never heard of her before this weekend (maybe she's famous already? I spent a lot of time out of the country . . . ) but I think I have a new girlcrush on her.

Reality Check

So, after all that stuff I wrote yesterday, now that I'm "home" at my parents' house and not distracted by travel/Match/conference activities, I'm starting to freak out about the weight gain. Starting to dwell and worry about how fast it came back and what that means. Starting to wonder if anyone will take me seriously if I'm heavier than my typical range for the past few years. Starting to wonder if I will ever not be wrapped up in this bullshit.

Like always, I'm okay with how I look except for a fixation on my stomach that literally feels like it's driving me crazy. I don't know how to fix it.

Honeys, I'm Home . . .

So much has happened since the last time I updated, and I am having a hard time making sense of it, so I thought writing a post might help me organize it a bit in my mind.

Also, I am WAY behind on reading other's blogs, sorry y'all. I left Tropical Research Country on June 2 and have been traveling nonstop since then. I was home (at my parents' house) for two days, drove up to see my Match, stayed 3 days, drove home, had one full day here, then took another road trip for a professional conference, was there for a few days, and got back last night. I stayed busy from about 6:30 am to midnight every day at the conference, so I've got tons to catch up on.

I actually just stopped while writing to read my last post and remind myself of where I was the last time I updated. Yikes. This was a rough field season for sure.

I've been seeing H. via Skype sessions again for about a month now and it has been SO helpful. We clicked just like before. I've failed at therapy with many different people, but she seems to have just the right approach to be supportive while also challenging me. And she has now known me for about 8 years, so I think she has some special insights from seeing me through several stages of life as well as the ED.

So, now the weird part. In a lot of ways, I'm fucking fantastic. In some ways, that scares me at the same time that it encourages me.

The people around the research centre in Tropical Research Country often talk about their "rebound week" after returning to the U.S., in which they essentially eat themselves silly because of all the things they missed. No one starves where we work (unless you have an ED-addled brain, ahem), but it's the psychological issue of all of the sudden having access to EVERYTHING after months of a bland and monotonous diet and no real choices.

 I think I've had about two rebound weeks now, because of that and also because biologically I did come back starving. My weight the day I left was the lowest it's been in years and years, and my brain was definitely in that food-obsessed starvation mode. I was killing up to three hours a day just looking at restaurant menus on Yelp and TripAdvisor. No bueno.

The upshot of that is that I've regained weight. Like, faster than ever before in my life. Like, I'm already back to where I was before I left for the field in January. My body really doesn't "like" being as low as I was, so I guess it makes sense that there was some bounce-back. But if you had told me a month ago that I'd "undo all my work" in this short a span of time I would have had a mental meltdown.

And you know what? I feel okay. It's sort of nonlinear I guess. Overall I'm not any unhappier (that's the baseline to be honest, I don't know if I'll ever be happy with my body) with my body now than I was at my low point for this year. Brains are so weird.

I still have body ooglies, obviously. I have always fixated on my stomach, and at the conference this past week I worried that people would think I got knocked up in Research Country because I was afraid that I look pregnant. I am worried about the scale rising and rising. I worry that no one will believe what a hard year it's been if I don't look chiseled down to nothing.

But I also feel SO much better in pretty much every way. Basically I feel like I went from feeling dead to feeling alive again, even after less than a month. I can literally feel such a difference in my metabolism. I'm sleeping better. I'd forgotten what it was like to not feel drained all the time, but I feel like Tigger with all this energy now. I won the 5k race at the conference for women and even outran all but one of the men. I can read an entire news article without having to reread half the paragraphs because my tired/distracted brain is having a hard time focusing. I left the Equator but am suddenly not cold all the time anymore. I'm interested in Stuff with my boyfriend again after a spell when that was the last thing my body felt like bothering with (or even talking about; which can cause problems when you have a deprived boy thousands miles away). My brain is taking a while to catch up to my body getting more and more restored, but the food-obsessive thoughts are already abating.

 And you know what? Eating without letting ED call the shots is FUN. Like, for real. Match and I went on dates and I ordered what I wanted from the menu instead of agonizing over what I "should" have. At the conference, my labmate and I made the most of the breakfast buffet at the hotel every morning. I tried a bunch of new beers that I loved over a few nights of brewery visits with some old conference buddies. We went out to dinner the last evening and shared a bunch of appetizers, had cocktails, ordered fun entrees, and got (gasp) dessert on a whim. Tiramisu cake, just for the record, because it was amazing and I ate my entire six-inch tall piece. WHO IS THIS PERSON DOING THESE THINGS? I don't know, but I do know that she was having a hell of a lot more fun than the person in the whittled down body weighing out her XX grams of bran flakes for dinner a month earlier.

I think a big factor is that I'm SO much happier now that I'm home and have my people again. I stayed lonely and depressed and emotional for a lot of this past field season. Match is still the love of my life and we picked back up where we left off, as always. I was still a bit anxious and emotional when I was at his place (just three days post-return and still jet-lagged), but we managed to have a good visit. My parents and my grandfather are my rocks as well, and having time with them has felt like such a luxury. Things were in such disarray when I left in January that in some ways I think I was emotionally "holding my breath" the entire five months until I could get back here to be with them again. Coming home felt like coming back up for air and just gasping to get life back into myself again.

This isn't to say I'm Better with a capital B. It's not my first rodeo, and I know my patterns. I tend to be more liberal with food and such when I'm out of my routine environment, so settling into the old schedule at my parent's house and then Match's place when I'm there for more than a few days will probably be pivotal in not slipping back into restriction. Things are still volatile between my parents, my grandfather is not getting any younger, Match is still managing a pretty big health issue, and I'm still disenchanted with my PhD. My body still has repair work to do -- I think my metabolism revving up after a period of depletion has been hard on my old embattled heart muscles, which has been a bit scary.  But I think H. is helping me figure out how to manage it so all of that doesn't overwhelm my brain and make me feel like the only thing I can really manage with certainty is my weight. And honestly I just am so happy to be back with the people I love.

Okay, now that I've written a book, that's all for now. I've missed you ladies and am working on catching up on blogs and correspondence. Love y'all.

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