Monthly Archives: March 2018

About Thursday

I am writing this a day after Thursday, in the hopes of getting past, or over, or at least somehow in the process of dealing with, the shock of the 5 year anniversary. (Yesterday’s post)

Thursday was an odd day.

I had a binge. A huge binge. Larger than I have had in a long time. It wasn’t as big as it could have been. I had other food I was also going to eat but somehow managed to talk myself out of it.

Then I was horrifically full so didn’t eat for um, 8.5 hours or so.

I wasn’t going to eat again at all that day but I had practice and I am trying to stick with the whole “eat before and after working out or engaging in a physical activity” rule. sigh. I hate that rule.

Obviously I didn’t eat right before practice, what with all the food that was still in my stomach digesting – which side note, despite very much wanting to I did not take any laxatives or diet pills to rush the food out of me – a miracle if ever there was one.

I’d like to take some credit for that but I only refrained because I know that the side effects from those pills would have hit when I was at practice and oh wow would that not be good.

So…no pills…but lots of food in the tummy…

Then I went to practice, had a decent workout, and when it was all done wanted ice cream. What the fuck?! *rolls eyes* My brain was all “you already fucked up today, if ever there is gonna be a day to eat the ice cream it is today!” but it was also saying “sure you ate a tonne earlier but you just finished practice so you burned a bunch of that off which means you have room to eat more”

I would like to point out that both those arguments are flawed, and yet, both feel so valid.

The whole drive home I was arguing with myself if I was going to get ice cream. If I wasn’t going to get it did I want to stop somewhere else and pick up something ready made to eat for dinner? Did I want to just grab the McFlurry and be done with it? Did I want to make something to eat at home? Or should I just not eat?

Don’t you love how I go from eating ice cream to eating nothing, like middle options don’t count or something.

In the end I went home, with the fairly solid plan of not eating because I was definitely over my calories for the day so my body doesn’t need any more food in it. If it is hungry from practice, which it shouldn’t be, then it can feed itself from the food I already put in it.

After my shower though I remembered a talk with my one-on-one counsellor and how we talked about post-workout nutrition and how it is important.

Ugh. Sometimes I hate when those talks pop back up in my head because they make it harder to convince myself restricting is the right choice and some days I really want to restrict because oh my god all the food in me from earlier!! Ack! But, I know he is right, and I am wrong, so I remembered what we talked about. I remembered about fueling my body, and taking care of it, and how if I don’t give it what it needs post-workout than tomorrow will be harder, and my workout tomorrow will be harder, and I’ll be more prone to injury and exhaustion, and well, I kept remembering a lot of stuff.

Eventually all that remembering kicked my ass in to gear and I made something to eat. And not even my normal food, which would have been a protein smoothie bowl or an egg with some toast.

Nope. I went out of my comfort zone by so freakin much. I have no idea why, it just felt like the night to try…to be honest I think because I still felt like such a screw up from my earlier binge that I figured if I’m gonna eat something higher calorie than my normal post practice meal I might as well go completely off plan. So, not the best reasoning for why to try something new but whatever.

I cooked a beef burger patty, and topped it with cheese, because oh yeah, apparently I eat cheese sometimes now! How the fuck did that happen?!  (I’m gonna get so fat…no! no, in moderation it might be ok…right?) Aaaaaand I made these things, I don’t know what to call them, they are like tater tots but made of broccoli and cheese.

I bought them I don’t even know how long ago and they have been in my freezer ever since. I’ve been too scared to try them because (1) what if I don’t like them and I’m stuck with them or (2) even worse, what if I like them and eat them too often, or too many at a time, and do I really want to risk having yet one more food that I know about, and like, that I have to put on my “not allowed” list, cause you know that is where most foods end up. sigh.

Food stuff is so hard.

So yeah, the package said 6 was a serving, so I cooked 6 of them.

That means I ate a burger patty with some cheese melted on top and 6 broccoli & cheese tot things.

Can that be any farther from something I am comfortable eating?

And omg, later I ate 10 crackers so I got my freakin grain component.

What has come over me…

Oh, and one last thing for the day, our drop-in group on Monday is cancelled cause of the holiday so I actually reached out to the friends I made in group that I hang with sometimes and asked if any of them would be interested in chilling that day, sort of our own group thing, so we don’t miss that Monday connection we usually have. And two of them have said yes! I thought for sure they’d be all “omg do we not see enough of you already, back the fuck off woman!” but no, they actually seem happy with the idea. Not everyone has responded yet so some of them may be all “back the fuck off”, but not all of them are…I’m assuming it is more the need to stick to routine and take care of their own recovery than any actual desire to hang out with me but that’s ok, shrug, I can deal with that.

I’m trying to tally the day, in a recovery positive way, and here is what I have:

Bad Shit:

I had a binge

Good Shit:

I stopped the binge before it got even worse than it was.

I didn’t take any pills etc. to purge after the binge.

I didn’t bail on my practice and avoid humanity because of my binge.

I initially restricted after the binge due to being sooooo full but after practice I made and cooked a meal.

The meal I cooked had all 4 food groups, contained red meat (something I never eat), contained a completely new to me food, had cheese, and I willingly ate a serving of carbs.

I didn’t purge the dinner I made.

I reached out to friends to make arrangements to help us all have support on a day when I knew we would be lacking it.

So, it would seem the Good tally is winning, wouldn’t you say?

Now, I will be the first to admit I could be very wrong here. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten the post practice dinner because of how much I consumed earlier. I don’t know all the new rules, and I get confused a lot about what to do, what is the right decision, and I most likely made the wrong one here. But even if it is wrong, I made a decision, and I stuck with it, no matter what the consequences were. And at the end of the day I guess that is the best I can do.

(I feel I should point out I wrote that last paragraph like it is no big deal but I was freaking out. Totally and absolutely freaking out about having eaten that dinner, having the food in my tummy, taking in even more calories. I have been doing so well lately with not eating too much and Thursday totally blew that out of the water. So ya know, panic, in spades. But I still didn’t go for the pills, or for a late night run, instead I drank some water and went to bed. Please let that be a sign of progress cause if it isn’t then this internal drama sooooo isn’t worth it! Just sayin’)

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5 Years

I had a whole other post planned but when I logged in and checked my notifications I saw a thing from WordPress congratulating me on starting this blog 5 years ago.

5 years.

Five fucking years.

I know I have had an eating disorder for way longer than that, and hell, 5 years ago when I started this blog I wasn’t even willing to admit that I had one, the closest I would say was I have issues with food, so I guess progress has been made.

But seeing that congratulatory message about having this blog for 5 years somehow really brought to my awareness that I have had this for a long fucking time and that really sucks.

Seeing that number makes me incredibly sad, and distraught. My heart started pounding, I felt dread, and fear (I think it was fear), my breathing got more shallow, my temperature spiked. There were some massive physical reactions to seeing that number. There was also definite panic.

Why was there panic? That I don’t understand.

My thoughts are scattered, and I’m aware that I’m doing things I do when I’m freaking out or about to freak out. My eyes keep scanning the room, avoiding looking at my monitor, I have a strong urge to get up and run, or do something physical, maybe punch something. I want to hide from the information, or at least get far away from it.

I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know why I need to do anything. Why I feel the need to do anything.

I just know that I went from feeling tired but wanting to write a quick post about something from today to panicked and needing to escape.

Like there is any actual escape from what is inside my own head? *rolls eyes*

Stupid Decisions

Today I am exhausted. I didn’t sleep well, I’m stressing about a bunch of things, and there is that whole little thing of not eating enough. Combined, those three things, plus a bunch of other things I’m probably not even aware of, have left me exhausted.

Unfortunately for me Mondays are a busy day for me. I work 7am-2pm, then speed to my group that runs from 3pm-5pm, then have an hour break before my 6pm group that ends at 7pm then I speed to practice where I am an hour late and coach makes sure I am aware what an inconvenience it is that I show up late on Mondays.

Yeah, Mondays kinda suck.

They suck more when I am tired.

I’ve been working on limiting my workouts to a more normal number, which isn’t easy cause coach is pushing us to workout even more, and harder. And I get that, she wants us in shape, but holy fuck from practices and selected by her workouts alone that is 7 workouts a week and that isn’t including the workouts we are responsible for on our own. In total she’d have me working out 12 times a week.

I get tired just thinking about it.

Part of me wants to rise to the challenge, push myself to do it, show myself, and her, and everyone, that I am strong enough, dedicated enough, capable enough, to do this.

Part of me knows I’ll burn out.

So today I didn’t want to go to practice. It was pouring rain, cold, windy, I was tired, hadn’t really eaten all that much for the last couple weeks or so, I was already struggling to function, I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to survive at practice.

I did a thing I rarely do, I texted I wasn’t coming to practice.

I hate myself for doing it even while acknowledging I would not have survived practice. Well, ok, that is being dramatic, I would have survived but I wouldn’t have performed well, and it would have taken so much out of me I wouldn’t have been able to function afterwards. Which might have been ok except I have an early morning work meeting tomorrow and a photo shoot this coming Thursday that I can’t be sick or wiped for. Photoshop can only do so much ya know?

The very rare times I don’t go to practice I also restrict my eating, obviously. I mean, if I’m not going to work out then I can’t eat anything.

I didn’t do that.

I picked up something to eat on the way home from group because I knew I didn’t have the energy to cook anything and I was so cold and so desperately wanted something warm.

When I got home I ate. I ate an amount of food that to me is so large I don’t know how my stomach fit it all, but to a normal person was a normal amount. And what was weird was even after I was done, and I didn’t feel hungry anymore, if anything I felt overly stuffed and in pain and sickly, I wanted to keep eating. Not from hunger. Not even from emotional distress (I don’t think), but because it is habit. If I eat the amount that I ate then I must be about to binge because I never eat that much in one sitting, so it is like my body was prepped and wondering why I wasn’t still stuffing my face. Also, I was still cold, and I think I partially wanted to keep eating because of being cold. Which doesn’t actually make sense, but it is how I felt at the time so I’m going with it.

I didn’t eat anything else. I did have over the course of the rest of the evening three cups of tea, which did nothing to help the sickly gross feeling in my stomach.

I didn’t take any of my supplements, or diet pills, or laxatives, and that is bothering me. The least I should have done was taken pills to get this food out of me faster, but they all make me bloat, sometimes for days, and like I already said, I have a photo shoot on Thursday and I can’t do that bloated.

So I’m sitting here, hours after I ate all that food, laundry finally done, yawning, I should be headed to the shower and then bed, but all I can do is focus on how my stomach feels. I am scared to shower because I will see how distended my stomach is from having food in it. I am also so tired that I am too tired to get ready for bed. Does that happen to anyone else or just me? I have been known to have a nap on my living room chair in order to get enough energy together to get up and go to bed. Somehow I feel that isn’t quite normal…

I’m mad at myself for skipping practice. I’m mad at myself for eating when I didn’t go to practice. I’m mad at myself for not taking any pills after eating to mitigate the damage from eating. And above all that anger is the super focused power of my brain constantly reminding me of how my stomach feels.

Seriously, how do non eating disordered people eat like this? It’s disgusting.

What’s really fucked up is if I told this to my group, or my one on one counsellor, or any of the people at recovery, they’d probably say not going to practice and eating dinner are signs of recovery or some stupid thing. But all those actions accomplished for me was to make me feel weak and lacking in willpower.

I feel like recovery should have a tag line:

Recovery, where every decision you make will feel wrong and you’ll wonder if you’ll ever not feel like a weak idiot!

MIA

My boobs are shrinking.

Apologies, that wasn’t a very grown-up way of writing that, let’s try again…

My breasts appear to be shrinking. Again. At this rate they will disappear altogether!

Why oh why can’t the fat from oh I don’t know, my stomach, or back, or thighs, or ass, go first? Whyyyyy the boobs?

Its just not fair I tell ya!

I’ve been working out more, and my workouts focus mostly on cardio, back, shoulders, and arms. As a result I have decent definition in my arms and shoulders. My back needs work, lots of work, and my cardio endurance is slowly getting better. However, none of that working out is translating into a slimmer, better looking me.

My chest is bonier, which wasn’t planned but I’m fine with, but my boobs are disappearing, which I’m not all that ok with to be honest. I mean, if you tell me to get them back I have to start eating again then I’ll just deal with them being smaller, but it would be nice if all that work on my pecs translated in to perkier boobs, not disappearing ones. *rolls eyes*

When I was getting dressed for work today I swear I saw myself get fatter in the mirror as I was seeing if my outfit was ok.

I wish I was exaggerating with that but I swear, as I took a look at my body from the side I’m positive my abdominal and ass area got thicker.

Is that even possible? I don’t think it is, except I experienced it…I had already changed my outfit three times and didn’t have time to change again so I had to go to work in what I was wearing and I felt ginormous. Like the fattest of all the fat people. And yet two people complimented how I looked and my figure. Don’t they see how disgusting and fat I am? How I still have so much work to do to look even halfway decent? How I am obviously a person with no willpower who eats too much?

I hate what I look like. I hate how I feel in my own body. I hate this. This fucked up, can’t even tell what I look like in an outfit, way of being.

I hate that I am so mad and upset about other things and the only way I know how to express my level of upset is by taking it out on my own body.

I’ve started taking my diet pills and supplements again, I just bought some new ones cause why the fuck not? I’ve been restricting, and not my regular levels of under eating but actual restricting. I’ve been scalding myself but have so far managed to not outright burn myself. I’ve been taking part in activities that cause me body pain and low levels of harm because again, why not? I’ve already decided to pull out of a couple different social functions that I said I’d go to and not say yes to anything new that pops up, because who needs people? And to pull back from my recovery program, because why have a support system?

In all ways I can fuck with myself I am, and while part of me doesn’t really care, part of me is reveling in the pain and harm I am bringing upon myself, because I deserve it. I deserve the pain, the depression, the total and complete belief that I am alone and unworthy of anything else.

Self-destruction is my only way of dealing with things, and it is something I do well. I guess my boobs are just the first casualty of this newest battle.

Being An Island

I’ve always prided myself in my being an emotional island. Sure I rely on other people for things at times, it is the nature of society, we all do. You don’t see me out there farming or refining oil so I can have food or gas for my car do you? But in a lot of ways I have kept myself apart.

 

I give the illusion of being connected to people, and places, and groups, but in reality none of those people know me all that well, they just don’t realize it because I am the funny one, the one that keeps others entertained, the low maintenance one that I am sure is completely forgotten once I am not in the room.

My keeping myself apart is a learned behaviour, one that is so ingrained I don’t know any other way of being. There have been times over the years where I let someone in a little bit, and it always comes back to bite me on the ass, reminding me why I don’t get close to people in the first place.

Well, looks like I needed to relearn that lesson, sigh.

I already wrote about how my counsellor leaving has messed me up, it would seem the fallout from him leaving is wider spread than even I would have predicted.

Having to come to terms with his leaving has made me realize how much I have come to rely on him and our sessions. He is the only human being on the entire planet I have ever spoken to about deep shit, and our sessions together were a touchstone for me each week. I knew if something really fucked up happened I could speak to him about it when I saw him. I knew if I was depressed, confused, mad, whatever, I could talk to him about it. And somehow, along the way, while having someone to talk to still confused me, I also came to rely on it and look forward to it.

What a stupid, idiotic, fucked up, move that was.

I am so mad at myself for forgetting all the hard learned lessons that taught me relying or counting on someone is a bad bad bad idea.

So now, here I am, going through this freakin emotional upset (which is so foreign to me I don’t even know where to start with processing it) when I know better and should never have let myself get this attached.

While ruminating on all this I realized that to a lesser extent I am relying on the groups I attend through my recovery program. The weekly drop-in, the meal support, I rely on them as other touchstones for my week, places I can go and be around other people with similar problems. Sometimes I get support from those groups, sometimes they leave me angry, or sad, or not feeling anything at all, regardless of how they leave me feeling I keep going back. I think I rely on the structure of them, to some degree I rely on the people running them, and the others that attend the groups.

I seem to have turned in to one big soft suck who relies on all sorts of people and groups to function during the week.

And that shit has to stop. Now.

With my counsellor leaving I am feeling lost, alone, like I can’t deal with this shit on my own and I’m gonna flounder as soon as our last session ends. So how much worse will it be when I time out of the program? When all of a sudden all the groups, and support, and structure is out of my life?

If I can’t deal with losing one person, I’m royally fucked when I lose them all.

That isn’t acceptable.

So I’m pulling back. I’m pulling back and creating distance because it is better for me to do it, better for me to be the strong one who backs away and maintains some level of self-respect, than for them to all leave first and me feel lost, and sad, and unable to cope. I need to be able to be on my own again when this program is done. I need to be able to handle shit, and move on, and how am I supposed to believe in my own ability to take care of things on my own if I am busy wallowing in depression because I am now on my own?

So I’m stepping back. Distancing myself emotionally from the whole thing. Putting the walls back up.

It is safer, and smarter, and better to do this before I’m even done in the program so its not a big deal when I leave.

What sucks is, I hadn’t realized how much I was relying on the program, and now that I’m stepping back emotionally I worry that what if I have become so weak from relying on it that I can’t handle shit on my own anymore? And why does going back behind my wall make me feel almost desperate, like someone who had a brief taste of freedom and is now being put back in a cell?

I never felt trapped by how I was before, I felt strong for being able to be apart from others. But sometimes I feel sad about going back to how I was, even though it is the smarter choice. I’m not sure why I feel this way, but I’m sure it’ll go away over time.

 

Changes

I’m not great at dealing with changes that aren’t my decision. Which, really, covers a lot of changes.

Usually I can bring myself around to being ok with the changes given enough time, how much time is needed is really dependent on what the change is and how off guard it caught me.

Something else I’m not good at dealing with is people going away. I guess you could say I have abandonment issues. *rolls eyes* I’m usually pretty good at pulling away and cutting ties first, before the other person can, and that has always worked for me. Every now and then the other person manages to leave first and it reinforces to me how I have to be more diligent and make sure I am the strong one who is leaving, not the weak one who is left behind.

But there are two people, one who left but is coming back, and one who is leaving soon, that are part of my treatment team, and the changes are really fucking with me.

My case worker disappeared ages ago. So long ago I don’t even remember for sure when she left! It sort of didn’t matter, since I was seeing someone else one-on-one, and already set up for my next group. I really only see her at the end of an 8 week group where she and I have a debrief and she tells me what group I go in to next, or I guess I could reach out to her in distress or with a question but I never have. She was co-running the group I am in now so her leaving meant someone else came in, but it is someone I know and am used to so I didn’t mind that she was there. What I did mind was that a different doctor, let’s use the initial M for her, was all of a sudden everywhere. She was co-running the drop-in instead of my case worker, she was co-running my core group, she randomly phoned me one week to talk about the core group, she had someone else come speak to me after drop-in because of something I had written on a check-in form we fill out at the end of our weekly group session. Seriously, I can’t get away from M if I try, and it was like she was taking the place of my case worker, and I don’t like that.

I don’t like that she left. I don’t like that some other person seemed to just step right in and take over all her stuff. I don’t like that nobody tells us anything so I have no idea if or when she is coming back. She could be dead for all I know.

Then this past week I find out she is coming back in the next week or so…and it seems I don’t know how I feel about that. She just left, out of nowhere. And now she is just allowed to waltz back in and resume where she left off? Does this mean she is still my caseworker? She doesn’t even know what I’ve been doing these past months while she’s been away. I don’t know if I want to deal with her again because I have trust issues and it took a lot for me to tell her anything and trust her to what extent I had been able, and then she left, and now what, she’s back so I’m just supposed to automatically trust her again? Or still?

I dunno. It’s weird to me.

The other person, let’s call him B, is the counsellor I see for one-on-one sessions. He is technically a student, doing his practicum work, and he is done in three weeks. This is even more stupid, because I knew all along he’d be gone somewhere around April, I knew he wasn’t a permanent part of my treatment team, but he has also been the most helpful person to me, the most supportive person in my journey, my time with him has had more impact on my recovery than any of the other groups combined. Which is kind of funny considering I signed up to meet with him thinking I’d meet with him once, not like it, and back out but feel ok about it because at least I tried. But it turned out I didn’t mind talking to him, and in fact, my sessions with him have become a huge touchstone in my week and I will be lost without them.

I know he is leaving. I have always known he was going to leave. I didn’t think I’d get attached to him, but I did. And I don’t know what I am going to do once our one-on-ones are over. I know he isn’t a friend, he is my counsellor, but he is the only person I speak with, who doesn’t have an eating disorder, who knows I have an eating disorder, who I can talk openly with about whatever I want. I can tell him flat out I need help figuring out if something I am thinking is messed up or normal. I have had him pry information out of me on days I am shut down and not able to access my emotions. He has seen me confused, sad, pissed off, and I know that is his job, I know him being there and helping me through shit is because it is his career, not because we are friends hanging out, but I feel like I am going to miss having him around the way I miss having a friend around. There will be a noticeable absence in my life, my routine, and in this case, my mental health support system.

I don’t want him to go, even as I want him to graduate and go do awesome things.

I don’t deal well when I lose people. If they come back it takes me even longer to trust them again. When they leave it affects me not just on the surface, but right down to my core beliefs, because their leaving reinforces all the negative shit I feel about myself, all the negative outlooks I have on life, society, everything.

I know it is messed up. I know that I knew the whole time he would be leaving. I stupidly let myself get used to having him around and I actually started relying on him, and now I don’t know what to do. How am I going to cope? If it was anybody else leaving I’d be talking to him about how to cope but I can’t very well go to him about this. I can already feel myself shutting down as a defence, to help stop or block the hurt I know I will feel when he is really gone. I am getting moodier, more depressed, not laughing or talking as much, withdrawing from everything, getting more aggressive, more sarcastic, binge eating more, then restricting more. All sorts of things that are manifestations of how unhappy I am are popping up and I don’t really give a fuck.

I’m becoming more anti-social? Who cares, it is how I am normally anyways. This whole making friends thing was an anomaly that wasn’t going to last anyways.

I’m talking less? Participating less? So what, I don’t need people to talk to, or groups to participate in. I’m fine on my own, always have been, always will be.

I’m relying less on my support system? I should be. Support systems are for losers, for wimps, for cowards, who can’t face the world alone. I am alone, I am strong enough to take care of myself because I am the only one who will.

Deep down I’m confused and sad? Screw that. Bury those emotions, squash em down until you don’t feel them anymore, they are a waste of energy and make me weak.

I hate this. I hate that I used to not be aware of shit like this, I just was how I was, and now I am more aware but still completely incapable of handling the overload of emotions. So now I am overloaded on top of all the shit I am feeling, and vaguely aware that my coping mechanisms are not helpful to my recovery or to living a normal life, but again, don’t know how to not engage in them. So I’m aware that I’m sliding, but not equipped with enough skills to stop the slide.

This fucking sucks.

 

No one is watching me slide below street level

Barely alive