Offline for a few days

Just wanted to thank everyone for the support I've gotten with my constant whining about the upcoming move. I'm webless starting tomorrow morning, and will HOPEFULLY be back online by Friday afternoon, but you know how it is dealing with cable companies. Full story to follow, too tired right now. Today was a roller coaster, but in the end everything that needed to be done was accomplished. I am so thankful for my amazing friends. I had a slight meltdown when the person that was supposed to take me to get my moving truck was 1.5 hours late (ok, there was nothing "slight" about it, it was crying and chest pains and anxiety saturating every cell).

Tomorrow I pick up my boys (dad and brothers) from the airport, and do the remaining packing and heavy-duty cleaning; Thursday morning we hit the road.

Last session with H....I have a lot of feelings about that, but it will warrant a post of its own once I have time/energy to process and articulate everything.

Ok, off to try to sleep, take care.

Anxiety Rising

I think I had a real life Anxiety Attack today. I feel like I have so much to do that I don't even knwo where to start and therefore am unable to do anything. This is VERY unlike me. I had this humming headache, just wandered around my place looking at all the things I need to accomplish but not knowing how to start, and had chest pains and general shakes.

Also, I am officially out of energy. Cammy is kaput, mentally and physically. Tomorrow is going to be the most intense day of the whole process, and I'm already dreading it. Because of the convoluted way my move is happening, I am getting and loading the truck tomorrow, doing the cleaning and maintenance stuff and picking up my family from the airport on Wednesday, and then finally leaving on Thursday.

I am so thankful for my mother. I called her in a complete meltdown this afternoon, sobbing and sputtering like an imbecile. Just like always, she knows how to talk me down without either coddling or roughness. I do, though, wish that I could make her understand that when I am sobbing "I'm too tired" I do mean yes, real energy and lack of calories, instead of just lack of sleep.

One other thing: I had an accidental clumsy moment today that resulted in minor injuries, and that more than anything else cleared my head and calmed me down. The anxiety leaked away with the blood. Surely that can't be healthy. I know the biochemical explanations, the adrenal system can be both a blessing and a curse sometimes. I will have to talk about this in therapy tomorrow.

Which will also be my last visit with H. I haven't given myself time to process this yet, but I know that when I do I am not going to like it.

A Race Incident

Race has been in the news quite a bit recently, and I had a relevant experience yesterday that really broke my heart.

There is a black family down the street from me with several kids, including a girl that is about eight years old. She usually waits on the curb in the evenings for G. and I to pass by on our routine walk. She'll join us for the last little bit (we only live about six or seven houses apart). She likes to pet G., tell me about what she's learning in school, gripe about her baby brother, and other things like that. She's really sweet, and I always feel disappointed on days when her family is out or she can't meet me for some reason.

There are no sidewalks on our street, but it's a quiet neighborhood so that is rarely a problem.

Except yesterday, when some prick in a pick-up truck (complete with confederate flag bumper sticker) blasted by and yelled out the window: "Keep your monkey out of the street!"

This kind of thing is not at all uncommon in my area, unfortunately, but I am still always astounded at people's imbecility. Usually I am witnessing it directed at strangers, except for a couple of times when I was with J (who happens to be Japanese, which is NOT the reason I assigned him the J. pseudonym, that is just a slightly un-PC coincidence). But having it happen to a child that was technically under my supervision really, really unnerved me. What to do?

I tried to think fast for a way to "fix" the situation, so I pretended as though the guy had been talking about G., not the little girl.

"Wow, that guy was pretty dumb, huh? Doesn't he know that monkeys swing in trees, they don't walk on all four legs like G!"

The girl just gave me this "What the hell planet did you grow up on?" look, and it was obvious that this was not the first time something like this had happened to her. And the other times, there were probably no hairy quadrupeds present to shoulder the insult.

Then she burst into tears. And you know what her first remark was, sputtering through the sobs?

"If I was white, would I be skinny like you?"

Dear world, you suck, was all I could think.

Again, trying to think fast on a good response (parenting must be like a mental tour-de-France every day, good grief). I had already failed with one patronizing, sugar-coated remark, and I didn't want to disrespect her by doing that again.

So, I was just honest. Novelty of novelties, right? I told her that: #1 she is beautiful just the way she is, and #2 the reason for my weight is that I have been very sick for several years, and that it kept me at a weight that is really not healthy. She commented that I'm "not as skinny" as I was when I first moved in, my "veins used to be way more sticking out." (Have to love the bluntness of children). I said that's right, and I feel much stronger and happier now that I'm healthier. That seemed to satisfy her, and that conversation also seemed to distract her-at least for the time being-from the incident with the idiot bigot.

I still am so pissed and confused over it, though, for two different reasons.

A) EDs and body image issues are often painted as white, middle-class disorders, which of course is far from the truth. I took a Medical Anthropology course last year, and anorexia is on the list of "culture-bound" syndrome, meaning that that it's a combination of symptoms that is only recognized as a true disease/disorder in specific cultures or contexts. I was indignant about that at first, because I strongly believe that many biological factors are involved, until I thought about the significance of "recognize" in the definition. Many things considered maladies in some settings (geographical, temporal, socioeconomic, etc) are not pathologized in others. Anyway, I digress, whole books have been written on that issue.

Back to my point, it infuriated me (at the world in general, and somewhat at myself, not the little girl) that her first response to a racist remark was to think about her weight. I have had experiences with black friends with body image problems before (that will warrant another post), and so many aspects of the issue break my heart.

B) Next, racists suck. They defy physics: they suck and blow at the same time. While I am going to miss this town for many reasons, I'm ready to get out of the state. I live in the Deep South, and while there are many aspects of southern culture that I love, anyone who denies that racism is still alive and active is in denial. Don't get me wrong, I'm not claiming that all southerners are racists!!! But the fact is that it's still rampant around here. I live in what is probably the most integrated, progressive city in the state (due to having a large university with a relatively multicultural student body), and I still see shocking examples of bigotry all the time.

I have seen people in cars throw things out their windows at Mexican men. On multiple occasions. During the election, there was terrible racist graffiti about Obama that the city waited FOUR MONTHS to clean up. And this wasn't in back alleys or on train cars, it was on cross-walks in high traffic areas of downtown. My neighbors tried to put an Obama campaign sign in their yard, but gave up after the sixth one was stolen. J dealt with remarks and looks quite often (I had honestly never even heard the term "gook" until an incident when I was with him, and he was too ashamed to tell me what it was, I had to google it later). There are definite black "sections" of town. (I live in the transition zone, where both students and black families occupy relatively affordable duplexes). The incidents I have seen involving black people are too numerous to recount. Again, I'm not claiming that all southerners are racist, or that this only happens in the south, but it is indeed very present around here. Also, I know that as a blonde, blue-eyed, middle class white girl there are certainly a multitude of things that I am not exposed to.

One reason this bothers me so much, I think, was that I was naive to the whole race thing for a long time. I grew up on military bases. There, I was never in a real racial majority. My classes were always about 1/3 white, 1/3 black, and 1/3 Hispanic and Asian. I was taught that all adults were "sir" and "ma'am", no matter what race. Everyone's houses were identical, everyone went to the same schools, everyone's parents made roughly the same amount of money and wore the same outfit to work. I went to Catholic school for a couple of years, but even there it was the same, because most of the students were also from military familes at the nearby base.

A picture (limited time only for privacy reasons, I'm squeamish and will take it down soon, but wanted to illustrate the point) from my 9th birthday party is a decent microcosm of my peer group (I'm the one with bunny ears, and the kids are Brother and Littlebro):

When I was in middle school, we moved to an off-base assignment and I had my first real experience in a civilian school, in a rural area of a southern state. Culture shock, anyone? There was one black kid per grade, and one Asian in the entire K-8 school. I know, I know, you're thinking: "Poor little white girl in an all white school, cry me a river." But truly it was a strange experience. Not just the lack of diversity, but the attitudes in general. Again, there are plenty of non-prejudiced people in the south, I do want to emphasize, that, but the Good Ole Boy network is still alive and well. I hope it is a generational thing, and that it will slowly improve, although it's hard when children themselves are never exposed to "other" as they grow up.

In that area, there simply weren't many people of other races. In my current city (well, it will be my current city for 3 more days), though, the population is probably roughly equivalent, but the social stratification is extremely significant.

Now I'm rambling and this has become WAY too long. Just general thoughts. I used to make angry comments about these incidents to J., and he is so jaded about it. (Keep in mind his English is flawless and unaccented, and yet he deals with people giving him the "talk slow and loudly to the foreigner" treatment on a daily basis). And again, I know I may seem pretty silly, griping about racism when I've never been directly subjected to it myself. The only real discrimination I've dealt with has been religious. My family is Catholic, and I was one of 5 Catholic kids at my high school of 1,500 people, in a region where the "Papists" are just one rung above cult members. Our church was vandalized on a regular basis, and the local newspaper refused to publish our events on the community calendar.

But religion is a choice, race is not. And maybe some people will think this whole post is just a run of the mill self-righteous hand-waving tiptoe across the eggshells of political correctness about how unracist I am, out of some kind of guilt or fear of some kind. I don't think I'm in any way unique as an un-prejudiced Caucasian person. But the fact that it's even still an issue is so frustrating and idiotic, and I don't understand. I guess because growing up I connected with a diverse group of friends, I tend to take it very personally even when it is indirect to me.

And just for the record, the girl down the street from me is beautiful and not at all overweight, but more importantly she is smart, sharp, and good-hearted. After Obama was elected, she confided in me that she might run for president someday. She has my vote.

Contagious Stress

The anxiety around here is so thick in the air that I almost need a shovel to make it to the bathroom.

I rode horses and worked at a stable when I was younger, and I learned very fast that animals are good barometers for our own mood and tension levels; they pick up on the slightest cues and reflect our emotions to some degree.

So, G. has been on a hunger strike for two days AND had an accident in the house today, something that is absolutely positively unheard of for him. And I was a bad, bad parent and yelled at him even though I knew he was already upset and scared over it.

And my snake bit me not once but twice when I was transferring him from his big tank to his "apartment," the smaller travel carrier he'll be riding in on our car trip. Again, this is unheard of behavior, I handle him all the time and he's never done that. He is still too small and dweeby to do real damage, but I definitely saw where the term "hissy fit" comes from.

Sigh. Are we there yet?

Moving Moans

Wow, I had forgotten how much energy it takes to move. I am at t-minus one week until the regional transmigration. We moved all the time when I was a kid, but the military pays for a crew of big burly men to come do all the hard work and pack, load, and transport everything in your house. Now, though, it's just me and G., and his lack of opposable thumbs means that his main method of helping is to constantly situate himself in my path, especially when I'm moving heavy objects. I am flat-out exhausted in a way that I haven't been in a while, both mentally and physically. Funny because just yesterday I posted on how exhaustion made me feel strong, but I think I am beyond the help of even my beloved endorphins.

I operate on a very narrow margin in terms of energy anyway, which is not at all unique for people with EDs, obviously. My calorie "budget" is meticulously balanced to get me through the day with reasonable oomph, and little more, especially since I have wimped out on the weight-gain thing for the past few months.

That doesn't leave much reserve for emergencies or other non-routine energy requirements, though, and boy am I feeling that this week. I guess times like this are good opportunities to be reminded that life takes energy, in both planned and unplanned ways. You can keep yourself on a razor thin edge in terms of health and vitality, and float along fairly well in your daily routine, but it is a nasty shock to fall short when something unexpected or out-of-the-ordinary happens, especially since performing in these situations tends to be pretty urgent/important.

Now back into the cardboard labyrinth for me.

(Image credit)

(PS I did NOT use the moving as an excuse to consume all the alcohol left in my kitchen so it wouldn't "go to waste," I actually threw it all away and found satisfaction in the wastefulness).

When Purification Goes Wrong

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if sweat and exhaustion did not make me feel so clean and strong.

Loose Connection

So, my snake was sick today. Seriously, I thought he was dead. It may seem dumb, not to know whether an animal is dead or not, especially when one's profession is studying animals, but with ectotherms it really can be hard to tell. They are always cool to the touch, don't breathe very conspicuously, etc. I poked him, picked him up, shook him around a little bit. It was not looking good.

Finally I remembered the scene from Little Women where they put the bird in the oven, and decided to try something similar, although instead of making Roasted Reptile in the kitchen I opted for a heating pad to warm him up. I made a little snake burrito with the heating pad wrapped around him and poof, worked like a charm, once he was warm he started moving again and even hissed at G., which was a good sign.

Still, I was kind of disturbed about this Playing Possum episode. Surely that can't be healthy. I know freezing up is a defense mechanism in many species, but I have never heard of it for kingsnakes before. And he had no reason to go into defensive mode, he was just in his tank hadn't been exposed to any obvious stimulus. He is very young, just about 9 months, and I keep him well-fed and watered. He seems to be growing steadily, he's up to about 20 inches now. I buy his mice frozen instead of giving him live ones, I guess it is always possible that they let one sit too long before freezing it, so it would be spoiled, but he wouldn't eat one that was "off" enough to make him sick?

So anyway, the point is that I called around to several vet clinics to see if any of them could diagnose why my snake went comatose. I got the same answer everywhere I called: "we don't do snakes, sorry."

Kind of reminded me of when I was first seeking treatment on my own, and was turned down by campus counseling services and a succession of independent psychologists, who said they "don't do eating disorders, so sorry." This was in January of my sophomore year in college, and because of the initial rebuffs I put further pursuit of treatment off for almost another year, in the meantime suffering an extremely severe relapse.

On one hand, I appreciate people being upfront when something is not in their area of interest and/or expertise. There have been times when I know that trying to talk to me about making changes in my ED behaviors was probably much worse than performing an exam on a snake.

On the other hand, sometimes it just seems like a crime that it can be so hard to get help when you need it. I was fortunate enough to find a psychologist that was a good fit for me, but she is not in "the network" for my insurance and so it costs my parents an arm and a leg, for which I have immense guilt. I tried the DIY version of recovery for several years, and inevitably stalled out and slid backwards before getting anywhere near healthy. I was venomously anti-therapy for a long time, but now I realize there is no way, absolutely no way in hell, that I would have made it this far on my own. When I think about how many people slog along on their own, lacking access to an ED-specialist due to geography, being too ashamed to admit to family that they want/need treatment or simply not having adequate insurance, it is so frustrating. Reaching out, only to be denied or sent elsewhere, can be very invalidating, and can scare some people away from treatment entirely.

I'm aware that this is neither a novel nor profound observation, but it's what's been on my mind today. Just for the record, I'm not comparing my snake's health to the suffering a person with an ED goes through, not by ANY stretch of the imagination. I guess this is just a loose connection in my train (or train wreck?) of thought.

I suppose the point of this post is this: if you are out there, deciding whether it's worth it to seek help, please don't let yourself become discouraged. At one point I swore to myself (and swore at myself, and swore at others, come to think of it) that I would never, ever set food in a psych office again, that I just wasn't someone who could do therapy. And now it has truly saved my life. I'm not saying any one treatment plan is a universal cure. Just don't give up the pursuit of the right plan, because in the end all of the hassle of insurance, scheduling, trying different offices, etc., is nothing compared to getting your life back once you've found a situation that resonates with you.