Category Archives: recovery


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


Right Back

Every week I have meal support. When it was first recommended I go I said no, I mean c’mon, look at how big I am, I obviously don’t have trouble eating *rolls eyes*

It was casually suggested a couple more times, to which I casually dismissed the idea, and then the dietitian learned a bit more about me and challenged me to go to meal support.

Well fuck. I’m competitive and don’t back down from challenges, so guess who ended up at meal support?

Sigh. Me.

I went once and swore I was never going back.

Obviously, somewhere along the way, I went back. I don’t remember exactly when, prior to Christmas I think it was, and I make it pretty much every week. It is part of my routine now. A stressful part that I always want to skip, and yet, I go. Not only that I encourage others to go! Who am I becoming??

The dietitian who runs meal support is going on vacation and will be gone for two weeks, nobody else was able to cover the group, so the next two weeks don’t have meal support.

At first I was ambivalent, then kinda happy I can sleep in, then sorta sad I won’t be hanging out with my friends in that group, then the eating disorder thoughts started making themselves known.

My friends in that group and I thought maybe we’d all get together anyways, so we don’t lose that support system, ideas got tossed around about what we will do, when, where, all that stuff. Instead of a lunch time meal support we are getting together a bit later in the day, mid afternoon-ish, learning about essential oils, aaaaaand having a freakin pot luck.

What. The. Fuck.

A potluck where the food is all being brought by people with eating disorders.

I don’t even know what this will look like. I do know it is causing me some stress trying to figure out what to bring, and how much, and am I supposed to bring something that has all the food groups, or am I assuming someone else will bring something that has say, dairy, so my dish doesn’t have to have dairy. Oh the thoughts!

Then this happened…

I was making up my grocery list, I use an app called Flipp. There are some items I leave on there because I buy them often so when I am at the store and scan through the list it’ll have the reminder for say, milk, and I’ll know if I’m low and need some that week or can wait. One of those items is Greek Yoghurt. That is only on the list because of meal support. It is my go-to for the dairy component of the meal that I take every week. If I didn’t have to take a dairy item to meal support I wouldn’t have any dairy on my grocery list. I have recently started buying cheese, not as a food to take to meal support, but as a direct result of eating a dairy item each week at meal support. Apparently I am branching out with my dairy and also eating cheese every now and then when at home.

The point of that ramble is that when I was making up my grocery list this evening, I saw Greek Yoghurt on the list and my first thought was:

“Don’t need to buy that this week”

And then I mentally started thinking of all the other foods I won’t be buying this week because I’m not in meal support so I don’t need them for this week, or next. They aren’t even all foods that I use in meal support! It’s like my brain figures meal support is done for two weeks so bam! Let’s go back to how I was before I ever went.


Is this where my brain is?

Some recovery journey I’m on *rolls eyes* As soon as backs are turned I’m thinking about what I can get away with not eating for two weeks and gleefully wondering how much weight I can drop before she gets back and anybody notices.

My one-on-sessions haven’t ended yet, I still have three more weeks before he leaves, so I guess I’ll probably bring this up to him when I see him, except that isn’t until Wednesday, and who knows what I’ll convince myself of by then.

Here I thought I was getting closer to being able to eat oatmeal again and instead I’m mentally throwing out food that is in my fridge and freezer and promising myself I’ll never buy it again.

I feel like I can’t be left to my own devices, or trusted to not go off the deep end. And what is really a pisser is I hadn’t even realized how much meal support was reigning my behaviours in! What else haven’t I noticed?

A Win That Feels Like A Loss

Today is a day I had practice (for my sport) and I’ve been working really hard on remembering to eat an hour an a half (or so) prior to heading out to practice so my body is properly fueled for the activity I am about to make it take part in.

I never used to do that, it is kind of a new deal for me, and not one that comes naturally. I’m trying it with all activity, whether it is the gym, practice, a hike, whatever.

The only thing I had to do out of the apartment today was practice so I let myself sleep in. When I woke up the first time all I was aware of was how everything hurt. My muscles were really feeling the work out I gave them the night before at the gym and oh man the pain. I mean yeah ok, it is a good pain, but it is still pain, ya know?

I rolled over and went back to sleep, then repeated the whole wake-up, roll over, snooze a bit longer deal at least twice more. Partly that was because I like to sleep but I don’t do it very well at night so if I have a day where I can sleep in and catch up a bit I like to. It is also a left over habit where I sleep through as many meals as I can, thereby limiting how much food I have to take in during the day. I hate days where I am up early and don’t get to bed till late, I can restrict during those days, and if you were to look at how many calories I take in on those days I probably still technically fall on the side of restricting, but I eat more on those days than I am comfortable with and I fully blame that on being up so early and having such a long day…that and my lack of willpower, sigh.

Back to today! I ate for the first time at 2pm and oh man, I so didn’t want to. I didn’t feel hungry. I didn’t want to eat. I just wanted to drink some tea and do nothing but another thing I try to do is if I have a day where I have loads of time then instead of a super fast / quick to make meal as my first meal I will actually cook something. I thought I might be hungry by the time I finished cooking, which was the only reason I cooked anything, but I wasn’t. I was however left with a plateful of food and a real anger at myself that I was going to waste the food and the money I spent buying the food, so I started eating. I didn’t think I’d finish what I made (I made too much) but I did, and I immediately felt guilty for eating when I hadn’t felt hungry, and well, a whole bunch of other things, but I don’t wanna bore you with my internal monologue, just know it ain’t pretty. *rolls eyes*

Something I am trying to count as a win from that meal was I prepped too many fillings for the omelette I made and instead of throwing them out I put them in a little dish and ate them as a side dish to my omelette. Kind of weird, but ok, I guess…So, does that count as a win because I didn’t throw out the food or a loss because it contributed to me eating too much?

How do people figure these things out??

I realized when I was getting ready for practice I had screwed myself by eating at 2pm because practice is at 7pm so I needed to eat something around 5:30pm (I have to leave by 6pm) and if you think I was at all hungry then you are delusional. There was nooooo room in my tummy for another meal, and I didn’t want a snack, so I decided my 2pm meal would see me through practice. To give you a clear picture, that would mean that meal would be fueling me through a two hour outdoor high intensity practice and I wouldn’t be home and in a position to eat anything until 10:30pm or so.

I suppose that is expecting a lot from that meal?…but to me it seems an ok choice.

When I went to leave for practice though I discovered it was pouring rain and my outdoor two hour intensive practice now got raised a level because I’d be doing everything in the cold, pouring rain. Just. Freakin. Great.

So I remembered what my counsellor said about food being fuel, which got me thinking of food as the source needed to fuel a fire, and me needing fuel to fire up my energy levels for practice, and next thing you know I am eating a protein bar while driving to practice.

I know that chain of thoughts makes no sense, but it does to me.

I thought, if I ate the protein bar, it would help me stay warm and be able to power through practice. And since I am cold all the time, especially on the water, anything that might help my body stay a little bit warmer is something I am willing to consider.

There was some definite negative feelings about eating that protein bar, but I just kept focusing on it being a tool to help me be my best at practice, and eventually I was at practice and too busy working hard to think about it anymore.

After I got home and showered, I was once again trying to figure out what to do about food. I didn’t feel hungry, I didn’t want anything, but even I know that what I ate during the day would not be considered enough with the activity I did, so I made something high in protein to eat. I was going to make a simple protein shake but instead made actual food, well, to be honest, I heated up actual food that was left over from earlier in the week.

When I first decided to write this post I was going to write about how I ate the protein bar on the way to practice and I think that is a win. But when I look at my day overall I feel whatever small wins I managed barely count, especially when I feel so badly about them and don’t know if I consider them a win or a loss.

It isn’t fair that a win can feel like a loss, though that does seem to be the nature of recovery. You have a win by doing something your eating disorder doesn’t want you to do, but you feel like it is a loss because you failed your eating disorder, and if you are me, you worry that if you get too far away from your eating disorder you’ll be left with nothing. Because I am nothing, and if I don’t have my behaviours to focus on than what do I have?

And wow, that got kinda deep all of a sudden.


It’s all just a numbers game.

What do I weigh? What are my measurements? How many calories did I eat? How many calories did I burn? How many hours did I sleep? How many hours did I spend in various recovery groups this week? How many times a day do I struggle with my eating disorder?

I’m not going to sit here and list the numbers for you. But the above questions are numbers I think about often.

I am terrified of the scale. I know a lot of people with eating disorders weigh themselves obsessively, hell, I used to be one of them, but I am so scared of the number the scale will show that I can’t bring myself to step on it.

You might think this is a good thing but in actuality it means I spend a ridiculous amount of time wondering what I weigh. I will think I know, and beat myself up for how fat I am. I will convince myself I have gained ten pounds in the past week and that I am so huge I shouldn’t be seen in public and none of my clothes will fit or look good, and if I hadn’t skipped that one gym session, or hadn’t eaten that one meal, then I wouldn’t be as fat as I am now. And then the thoughts get mean.

There are weight restrictions for one of my jobs though so no matter what, once a month I have to stand on a scale.

Today I had to not only stand on a scale but take full body measurements – not for work, for something else. I then have to repeat the process on the last day of March to show improvement. Which of course means I am freaking out because what if I don’t show improvement? What if instead of getting in to a bit better shape I just get fatter? Oh my god please don’t let me get fatter, I won’t be able to handle it.

So now I know my weight aaaaaand all my body measurements and my head has been spinning with those numbers all day.

See, when I step on the scale the result goes one of two ways:

(1) the number is higher than what I can stand seeing and I immediately start restricting even more and working out even harder to fix it

(2) the number is lower than I was expecting, I am happy (even though I want it even lower), and I become terrified of screwing up and having the number go up, so I start restricting even more and working out even harder to make sure I don’t screw up the loss

Not really great responses huh?

Today I stood on the scale with the full knowledge of what the scale said in January, sure that it was up ten pounds from that number because dammit I know my body and I know I have gotten fatter. *stomps foot*

The number was ten pounds lower than my weight in January. Ten pounds lower. But I was 100% sure I was up. So how could I be down? The scale must be broken, obviously! So I reset it and tried again. Still ten pounds down.

So, yay?

I mean yay, I am happy I lost weight, obviously, but um, I was so sure I’d gone up, it was like I didn’t know what to do with this information.

Now, before anyone worries, I am not someone who is underweight, or even near to being underweight, so losing ten pounds isn’t a dangerous thing for me. Trust me, I still have a lot of cushion on this body, unfortunately.

Then I took my measurements. They don’t have as big of an effect on me as I was never much of a measurement focused person. I am curious to see how they change in a month though, but not in a “they must get to a certain number” type of way, just a general curiosity.

Weird how I can be so affected by the scale number but not so much by the measuring tape numbers huh?

Seeing that I was down, after I started to believe it, had me immediately thinking of what foods to cut out, and how much to cut out, and how much I can increase my exercise, to not screw this up. I am convinced it is some weird fluke and won’t last unless I am super careful.

But…that reaction goes against what I am learning in recovery, sigh. Also, I had my team practice tonight and in my one-on-ones we talked about how I need to properly fuel my body for when I work out and when I have my sports practices because if I don’t fuel my body I can’t perform to my best ability and I increase my chances of getting hurt. So I try to make sure I eat an hour and a half or so before any work out or activity that I take part in. It sucks, and is hard, but I try…I don’t always succeed, in case you were wondering lol

Today I had no excuse to not eat before practice, but I was thinking I could eat just that small meal before practice and nothing else, cause that would be ok, right? Ok, wrong, I know wrong, but it still feels right.

Brace yourself, are you sitting down? Because not only did I eat around 1:30 pm, I also ate at 5:30 pm (my pre practice meal), aaaaand when I got home after practice I ate something around 11 pm. That is three times in one day eating food! And ok, granted, not all food groups were included at each meal, and the word meal might be an ambitious use of the word since each time the food quantity was kinda low, but the fact that I ate three times should count for something, right? Maybe…I dunno…maybe I am stretching here, sigh.

For someone who hates math my head sure has a lot of numbers in it lol

I don’t really know where I was going with this post, except that I have nobody I can share the news that I lost ten pounds with, and nobody to share the news that I ate three times in one day with, and I just wanted to say it somewhere, out loud, even if it is actually being typed not spoken.



Today I had meal support and right afterwards I had my one-on-one session with my counsellor.

Today was kinda hard.

To start with I didn’t want to get out of bed. I’m tired. All. The. Time. I’ve been cancelling on people, calling in sick to work, “accidentally” not setting my alarm so I wake up too late to get somewhere so I then roll over and sleep some more, I’m just so tired.

Then there is the issue of carbs.

I love carbs.

I hate carbs.

I am supposed to be a low carb eater, that is how I present myself to the world at least, but when I binge I binge on carbs like you wouldn’t believe. Well, carbs and ice cream..and a crap ton of other stuff, but the main component is carbs. Man I love carbs *wistful sigh*

In front of people however, I do not eat carbs. Let me stress this for you so you understand how serious I am about this…I DO NOT EAT CARBS!

Except at meal support there is no option. I have to take a balanced meal with a protein, a fruit / veg, a dairy, and a carb…they call it grain, I call it carb.

The carb and dairy component are the hardest parts for me. I have figured out I can manage greek yoghurt with some fruit in it without too much issue but the carb, kills me every week. I keep trying different things, a dinner bun, a piece of bread, counted out crackers, two ingredient dough turned in to something. I absolutely refuse to eat rice, potato, pasta, starchy veg, a sandwich (takes two pieces of bread and I can barely manage one), or any other form of carb you can think of.

Today I tried a bran muffin that I made myself the night before. There was nothing wrong with it, tastes good, but I reeeeally didn’t want to eat it in that room, in front of people, or at all really. I would have been quite content to throw it away having never eaten a crumb.

Meal support is hard for me for a lot of reasons, the eating in front of people part, the time of day the meal is, having to eat everything within 20-30 minutes, having to eat so much in one sitting, not being able to leave right afterwards. I get in that room and I feel trapped by the people, the food, the choices in food I made, the clock, everything.

Today I was trapped by the muffin. I tried to convince the person running group half the muffin should be enough but nope, apparently it isn’t.

In the end I ate it, and have been dealing with the emotional fallout for the rest of the day.

Then there was my one-on-one session, which wasn’t too too bad. I like talking to him, but some weeks are harder than others and this week I had a specific thing I wanted to talk to him about (which I did) but I also wanted to ask him some questions but I ran out of time and couldn’t. Plus I feel like an idiot half the time, ok fine, all the time, because oh woe is me I have issues with food and need someone to talk to…when there are people starving, or in actual bad life situations, and here I am being a drain on the medical system. sigh. That may or may not be me minimizing my issues to try to guilt myself in to quitting recovery…something I suppose I should bring up to my counsellor at some point *rolls eyes* So yeah, today was one of those days where I feel like an idiot for my issues, plus I feel tired, plus I ate that fuckin muffin, what was I thinking making those??

And now it is late at night in my time zone, I never made it to the gym thanks to being sucked in to the Olympics and because I’m tired (I feel like I’ve written that a thousand times, sorry!), before I know it my work week will be ramping up again, and I dunno, life just seems harder today. Which makes me feel guilty because other people’s lives are so much worse I should just be grateful for what I have that is good and suck up the shitty stuff. Right? Maybe? I dunno.

I’m tired.

Today was hard.

I’m going to bed.

An Odd Stressor

At one of my jobs I get fed when on shift. They make amazing food there, better than anything I could ever make, and depending on what they are making will depend on if I eat at work.

Over the years (cause yes, I’ve been there yeeeeears) the chef’s have gotten used to my quirks, sorta. I get teased by some of them about not eating certain things, or lectured by others about needing more fat in my diet, but even the ones that tease me respect my food choices…they can’t really argue with them when I’ve dropped weight and everyone thinks I’m oh so healthy *rolls eyes* At work I eat lean protein and vegetables. Exciting huh?

It is usually fish, or chicken, or turkey, or eggs, for the protein. The veggies vary widely. I don’t eat starchy vegetables, (ex. corn or peas) but I eat a bunch of the other veggies. I steer clear of carbs in any obvious form…I say obvious because all veggies have carbs in them but I’ll eat say, asparagus, but not potatoes or rice or other higher carb food items. Does that make sense?…I mean, in the way weird food rules can make sense? lol

There is one food I don’t eat, and haven’t eaten in more years than I can remember, that is not on my no-go list because of my eating disorder but because of broader reasons.

I don’t eat pork, in any form. It started because I don’t care for the taste or texture of most pork products and from there it expanded to not wanting to eat pigs because they are ridiculously intelligent, freakin adorable, and ethically I don’t feel right about it.

All the chefs at work know I don’t eat pork. One of them teases me by saying pork is in everything (from the egg salad mix, to the vegetables, to the fruit salad), it is a long running joke at this point.

Last week I worked an extra shift and the chef working asked if I would eat the meatloaf for dinner. I didn’t want to, it looked too greasy, I felt I had less control over it (as if I somehow control the salmon they feed me on other days? *rolls eyes*) and I dunno, it rang all kinds of alert bells in my head as a “no” food. Sooooo, trying to get out of it I asked what was in it. He said it was fine, and gave me a tiny piece to taste. I tasted it, it wasn’t horrible, I figured I had plans to work out after work so maybe I could do this, and I said fine I’d eat the meatloaf.

I wasn’t happy about it but I was trying to think of it as testing my comfort level.

Then someone else at work mentioned they weren’t eating the meatloaf because it was a combo of three meats and they didn’t like the sound of that.

Three meats? What three meats? I was led to believe it was beef…

I asked the head Chef what meat was used in the meatloaf and he said beef, veal, and pork.

I ate pork.

I want to cry.

Even thinking about it days and days later makes me feel nauseous and teary and disgusted.

I went back to the chef who gave me the piece to try and snapped at him, turns out he assumed it was beef, didn’t actually check, the jackass.

Now, I think a more normal person would be pissed, but get over it, and the next day be fine with getting their meal at work, especially when it is fish and there is no chance of a mistake being made and they would be fed pork again.

But who says my brain does normal? I was stressing out about my meal at work all day (I worked the evening shift so I was getting fed dinner). What was going to be on the menu? Could I trust any food coming from the kitchen? Did I want to eat from that kitchen ever again? Maybe I should just not eat.

Somehow my brain went from one chef making an assumption and accidentally giving me something with pork in it to I can’t trust any of the food that comes from that kitchen no matter which chef makes it so I should no longer eat at work.

Some days I want to smack my own head against a wall.

Just because I am irritated with my own thought process on this one doesn’t mean eating at work has become any easier since this incident. I can manage to eat vegetables, for the most part, but much more slowly than before and it takes a lot of convincing to get me to eat them…by that I mean me convincing myself, I don’t have some cheerleader that follows me around cheering me at my meals lol I’m poking and picking at my veggies more than I am eating them and using the excuse that they have gone cold and don’t taste good anymore as a reason to not finish them and just throw em out. Don’t even get me started on the protein side of things. Since the pork incident I’ve been given salmon, chicken, hard boiled eggs, and turkey…of those I was able to eat without issue the hard boiled egg, everything else I pick at, take nibbles of, and then swear it feels like a lead ball in my stomach.

I don’t want to eat the food.

I seamlessly went from not sure I can trust the food, to nope I can’t trust the food, to the food makes me feel unwell in my tummy (further reinforcing why I shouldn’t bother with eating), to guess I’m not gonna eat at work anymore.

Which correct me if I’m wrong but just might be me going in the wrong direction recovery wise.

I don’t know how to fix it. And to be honest, I don’t know how driven I feel to fix it. Part of me feels like not eating at work is a good thing because really, I don’t have any control over that food, I don’t cook it, or prep it, there are probably all kinds of hidden calories in that food, it is probably better for me if I don’t eat at work. And no, I won’t take food to work cause, well, that’s a whole other blog post of crazy, but in my world that isn’t an option, so I am essentially backing myself in to a corner of self-imposed food restriction for 4-5 days per week, 8 hours each of those days. Which isn’t soooo bad, I’ve done worse, but I’m trying to do better, except I appear to be a bit ambivalent about it.

Oh my god, see why I irritate myself?

I have my one-on-one session this Wednesday, let’s see if I can irritate my counsellor just as much as I am irritating myself. Arg!

A Surprise Victory?

I attend meal support group every week. I have to take a meal with all four food groups, in proper portion sizes, and eat the entire meal in under a half hour. Then I sit around with the others there and we colour or play a game or something until it is too late to purge. The activity is supposed to keep us distracted so we don’t focus on all the food we just put in to our system and can not immediately get rid of.


When I first started meal support it went bad. Like, so bad. Not in the group. When in the group I seemed fine. I ate. Slowly. But I ate. I always finished my meal, it was always a well balanced combo of food, I took part in the activity and made nice.

Afterwards though, it was bad.

I felt like I had just screwed up the entire day and I would either restrict for the rest of that day and all of the next to make up for it or I would binge because I’d already screwed up so might as well make it worse.

Don’t you just love messed up logic sometimes?

Double sigh.

I have been going to this group for I don’t even know how long anymore. Months and months and months. I don’t make it every week, sometimes life gets in the way or I just can’t make myself go, but since the New Year I have been pushing myself to go each week.

This past Wednesday I realized something, ready for it?


I don’t binge or restrict after meal support anymore.

I still don’t like all the food I eat being in my stomach, and it can still set me up for a bad rest of the day emotion wise, but I don’t compensate for eating that meal at a time I don’t like, in a quantity I am not comfortable with, in a setting I didn’t choose, by saying screw it and eating everything I can get my hands on or going in to lock down mode and not touching anything but tea, diet coke, and water.

I am not exactly sure when that happened…I guess it was a gradual shift and now I just sorta know how to be ok with that meal?

I’m not sure. I’m not sure what any of it means. Maybe now that I’ve told someone it won’t happen again and I’ll have screwed myself, but maybe not? Maybe this is a new normal for me, and wouldn’t that be interesting…