Snow Shoeing

Some friends and I went snow shoeing the other day. Normally when I go snow shoeing, or hiking, I go alone, so going with three other people was an oddity for me. I was freaking out about how I was going to be the slowest, the least fit, the one panting for breath, the one struggling to get up the side of the mountain, the one holding every body else back, the one the others wished didn’t come.

I wanted to cancel.

But I didn’t.

I did, in the week leading up to the day, send joking type comments to our group chat about how I’d be the one left for the wild animals to eat if something starts hunting us. Things like that. We were all joking and teasing but my sub-text for those messages was to remind them I am not in as good of shape as they are. I wanted to lower their expectations of me.

Turns out I was actually fine. I was able to keep up, even led the group for part of the trail. I was pretty much matching them for fitness level, I think I was actually in better shape than one of them.

How in hell did that happen? I mean yeah I go the gym and I have my team practices (of which I had one that morning), but I am woefully out of shape.

The next day we are all messaging in our group chat and they are comparing sore thighs, and calves, and glutes, and hamstrings, and I’m silent because nothing hurts. I’m fine. And I don’t mean that in my defensive saying I am fine when I’m really not kind of way. I really am fine. Nothing hurts, nothing got pulled, I don’t feel like I need a rest day, or extra time to recover, I just went about my normal day and was fine. I did feel a bit hungrier than normal which was annoying…but that was the only thing I noticed.

This happens after my team practice, others will be talking about sore muscles, how tired they are, things like that, and usually I am silent because I don’t feel that pain or level of tired and I always assume it is because I am not working hard enough, not putting in as much of an effort as everyone else, not doing my technique properly and therefore not using my muscles the same way as everyone else. So as they are chatting about sore muscles an stuff I’m wondering if I did something wrong because I don’t feel like that but then I realized that it was freakin snow shoeing, there is no right or wrong way. We all did the same thing, went at the same pace, climbed the same distance.

How could I do that wrong, or not the same as the others?

I don’t think I could have…which means I am not sore not because I screwed up but because what? because my muscles are more used to working out? I’m in better shape than I thought? I’m not quite as much of a fat lazy slob as I think I am?

I’m not sure why, but it is something I keep thinking about.

Something else I noticed was just how differently I think about food, or not think about food I guess I should say.

All three of them brought snacks for the trail, they didn’t eat them but they brought them just in case. Which just confused me. Then, when we are back in the car and headed down the mountain they all pull out food and start eating and sharing and eating some more and I’m all “what the fuck? where did this food come from?”

And I mean serious levels of food! Cliff Bars, crackers, cheese, nuts, fruit, and more! They all offered to share with me but I didn’t want to eat so I used the excuse of wanting to keep my hands on the wheel while on the winter roads as a reason to not be eating.

Never, in all the planning for this day, did it ever cross my mind to take snacks, something that all three of them thought was a natural thing to do.

I figured since I had eaten something between my morning practice and going snow shoeing that would be my food for the day and I’d be good.

They all had breakfast, and lunch, those snacks, and dinner.

How in hell did they fit all that food in their bodies? And how are they all so much smaller than me when they eat so much?

I’m so confused.

I’m not upset by their eating, or by the realization that it never crossed my mind to bring food, it just sorta keeps popping up in my head as a thing to think about with wonder and confusion…like I’d glimpsed such a crazy alternate way of living I just keep thinking about it, not with judgement, just…thinking…



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…

A Bad Couple Days

Ok so actually it is more like a bad 4 or 5 days, but that title doesn’t sound as good.

I’ve been sad for days. Sad to the point that I went to work and felt like I was barely managing to get out of there with enough energy to get home and hide from the world. I was existing at the level of just enough to not get fired or royally fuck up my world level – nothing extra.

This happens now and then, usually I hermit and after whatever length of time it takes to get through it is over I slowly emerge and try to fix all the damage I did to my world when I was too sad to give a fuck.

Real winner of a person over here I tell ya! 😉

This past Monday it was getting to a level where I was having trouble hiding it, unfortunately I had two groups that day. sigh. Nothing like trying to not show how sad you are when you’re in a group that is designed to get through to your emotions.

The first group is two hours and when it is done for the day you have to fill out this form that gives a quick snapshot of how you are doing that day and for the previous week. It asks things like if you’ve been engaging in your ed behaviours and if so how much, and have you had suicidal thoughts, what is a goal you have for the coming week, things like that.

Well, I put for my goal I was going to work on getting up more slowly from a seated position because I had noticed that when I stand I am getting dizzy. Now don’t go freaking out at me, I don’t mean dizzy like I’m gonna fall over and crack my head open, just kinda woooo everything is moving but I brace against something and I’m all good in 30 seconds or so. No biggy.

Apparently I shouldn’t have written that because after the second group one of the counsellors came up to me and mentioned the other counsellor (who had been co-running the first group) had read my form and was worried and he wanted to check with me that I was ok.

What the hell am I supposed to say if someone is looking you in the eyes and asking if you’re ok? Of course I said I was fine, brushed it off, said I wasn’t sure why it was happening but it is no biggy. He suggested I see I doctor. I told him I saw her two weeks ago and no way was I going back again so soon. He also kept saying he wanted me to make sure I took care of myself.

What does that mean?

I was so confused, but too sad to bother with asking, but it has been confusing me ever since.

Take care of myself?

Of course I take care of myself, I live alone, if I don’t take care of myself no one else will.

I’m trying to puzzle it out and I’m wondering if he meant don’t engage in any self-harm behaviours? Or maybe he meant don’t engage in eating disorder behaviours?…Which seems a large request to be making…or maybe he meant to try to nudge me in to changing my mind and go to the doctor after all?

I dunno.

I saw him today for one-on-one and meant to ask him but got distracted by our convo. He mentioned something that has been bugging me since our one-on-one (I swear this man has the ability to say things that leave me pondering for days lol). At that second group a diagram was drawn and everyone was all “oh I get that, I really connect with that, I never really understood that until now” where as I was all “what the fuck?” So, after everyone was done with their glowing remarks and I felt like I was gonna burst in to tears because the diagram just made me even more sad I spoke up and said:

“this picture makes me sad”

Five little words.

I never say if I am sad. Hell, I don’t say if I am any emotion but especially not sad!

And yet, those words came out of my mouth, because apparently I am slowly learning how to share and that evening I couldn’t keep my emotions to myself. They felt like they were brimming over, about to burst out, and it was either say something or explode.

So I said the picture makes me sad, and explained why.

And people listened. One of the other people in group said how they hadn’t looked at it that way (my way) but she could see why I interpret the picture that way and feel sad as a result. I just this moment realized she validated my emotions…I don’t know that anybody has done that before…huh…

But ok, not the point!

So that all happened. Then today in the one-on-one my counsellor said that the other counsellor that was there Monday said that my saying I was sad, and sharing, was the first time she felt I was ever truthful about what I am feeling. It is the first time since her and I have been in groups together that I really shared my true emotion.

I want to get offended by that, or mad, or something, but I can’t, because I don’t easily share what I am feeling. Not to people I know really well, especially not to people I don’t really know, or don’t know at all. She is new to me. She just appeared one week, I guess she was away for a while, others knew her, but to me she was just a new face that seemed to feel she knew how everything worked and ran and like she had some right to be there asking me questions, replacing the counsellors I had finally gotten used to over the months I have been there.

Why would she think I would just boom! open up to her, or around her, when I don’t know her?

So now I have lots of things to ruminate on…what I spoke with my counsellor about today, the fact that I actually shared a real time emotion in group, trying to figure out what he meant about taking care of myself, the fact that this new to me counsellor is talking about me to the other counsellor…sigh…

A Clean Bill

I wrote the other day about being worried about a thing on my back that may or may not be a sign of cancer.

Happy to report that while the doc says we’ll keep an eye on it…or rather she will since it’s on my freakin back and hard to see!…I don’t need to be worried about it.


On a random note, is it messed up that leading up to the appointment I couldn’t figure out which I was more worried about…the possibility of cancer or having someone see me without a shirt on?

I am single af, have been for a long time, the only parts of me people see are the ones socially acceptable to be showing when out in public, so arms, sometimes legs, shoulders, some cleavage…let’s just say I don’t flash a lot of skin ok?

So leading up to the appointment I was super focused on what I was gonna wear (button up fleece), reminding myself to make sure I shaved my armpits that day (I mean, I don’t let myself get hairy or anything but still! If I’m gonna freak out about one thing I might as well freak out about all things lol), and trying to figure out if I would be able to just slip the shirt down a bit without taking it off…fyi, not possible.

The doctor actually pulled the whole shirt off, while I’m standing there trying to oh so subtly keep it partially in place lol She wanted to see my entire back, I guess if you’re gonna check out a possible cancer spot you might as well check out the whole back…and then the front cause dude, she turned me around and was looking at my front…thank god I wore a pretty bra!…which yes, was another thing I kept reminding myself to do lol

I didn’t share any of my worries at my groups on Monday, not because I think they aren’t a safe environment, but because I didn’t want people I have to see face-to-face to know what was going on. Either it would be cancer and I didn’t want to deal with pity, or I wouldn’t have cancer and I’d come across as a hypochondriac. All I mentioned was I was stressed about something that was happening on Tuesday and distracted, and left it at that. Thankfully nobody pressed about it.

Another kind of random thing from the doc’s appointment, I think she was checking to see how visible my ribs were…once she was done checking my skin for scary things she sat me down and was all “how are you doing” in a serious voice. She never asks me shit like that. I said fine cause, well, what else am I gonna say? She also said I could come in on a regular basis so she could check my skin since my risk of cancer is so high my skin should be monitored. Ugh. Won’t that be fun? *rolls eyes*

But for now I’m going to be happy that all is good skin cancer scare wise and go prep for meal support tomorrow. I hate meal support, which oddly enough, is why I go lol I’ll explain that another day!

A Tad Worried

I shouldn’t be writing this, I should be showering and then going to bed. I work early and right after work I have group for two hours, then an hour break, then another group. sigh. By the end of the day I’m tired and it is vital I start the day with as much sleep as possible. Not that I sleep well…but that’s a whole ‘nother story! lol

In my family there is a loooooong history of cancer. Both my parents, both my Grandmothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, sometimes it seems like everyone. Except for the relatives that chose to not undergo treatment, most of them survived. I actually grew up thinking of cancer as a thing you get, you get medicine, you get better…like a cold or something. *rolls eyes*

Because of this, and because I am super pale, a natural ginger, and sunburn in approximately 5 minutes of direct sunlight, oh and genetics, I always knew one day I’d get cancer. Hell, after I sunburned my shoulders when I was in grade 5 my mom lectured me the entire time she was putting cream on my shoulders about how I was going to get cancer and die. I was so upset! I thought she meant right that minute I was going to get cancer, and I was upset not because I didn’t want to die but because I had made her mad and I didn’t want to die with her mad at me…oh the weirdness of a child’s brain lol

So I’ve always taken a relaxed attitude about the whole thing.

Buuuuut…last month I noticed a thing on my back. I’m not sure how to describe it exactly. It is brown, it is misshapen, it looks exactly like the things that get cut out of my mother’s back because they could be her cancer returning.


I ignored it for a while. Subtly pumped my mother for info about her cancer and treatment and her back things and what I learned wasn’t all that comforting.

So I did what I do best and I continued to ignore it.

I took a look at it in the mirror last Thursday night after I’d showered and realized it had gotten bigger, and more oddly shaped.


Friday between jobs I called my doctor and scheduled an appointment to have it looked at. The earliest I could get was this coming Tuesday, which is fine, not like I wanted to go in asap.

I hate doctors. I hate going to doctors. I hate talking to doctors. I hate doctors looking at me, poking and prodding me, sending me for tests, asking me questions. I feel like I am taking up too much space when in the exam room, too much time, I am in the way and should be super fast so someone else can come in. I feel like any question I have is stupid, any concern I want to raise a waste of time. I don’t want to be there. I also hate being touched. I can deal with being looked at when it is say, the doc looking at my throat, or in my ears, something like that. But when they get all “lift your shirt” I want to panic and run out the room.

Because of all this I rarely go to the doctor. It used to be a lot if I went once a year, I suckily go more often because part of my treatment program requirements is that I go once a month. I didn’t know that in the beginning so I never went, then I got busted, so I was going monthly for a while, I have subtly scaled back on that though.

Which makes it all the more annoying that I am willingly going on Tuesday.

Since I made the appointment my stomach hurts. I am nervous, scared a bit, just super uncomfie about the whole thing and I oh so badly want to cancel and pretend I don’t know this thing is growing larger on my back, and that there is a second one near my armpit.


I have two groups Monday. The first is a scheduled one that is part of my recovery about feelings. I don’t think it is the kind of group you bring something like this up in. The second group is drop-in and it is the type of group you can bring anything up in. But I don’t know if I want to bring it up. It isn’t like talking about it will make me feel better and I don’t wanna risk being pulled aside after group is over and talked to one-on-one by the docs running the group. Besides, it is probably me being a crazy person and nothing will come of it and if I say something and nothing comes of it then people will think I am a hypochondriac and never take me seriously again. But I don’t know how to handle the stress and worry.

I suppose I’ll handle it how I have been handling it since Friday, which is restricting. I can justify restricting because my tummy is so topsy turvey it doesn’t want food and when I do eat it hurts. Like how it hurt when I had ulcers, only I think this is a reaction to stress, not an ulcer forming.

Man, I hope it isn’t an ulcer forming, those suck.

I really should sleep, I’m so tired, but I have bad dreams and unsettled sleep, so not like sleeping will really help all that much.

Mostly, I think I just have to say the words out loud, and typing them here is like saying them out loud, sorta…

What if I have cancer?

There. I wrote it.

Deep breathe.

It’ll be fine. I’m worrying over nothing. The doc probably won’t even take a biopsy. She’ll take one quick glance, say I’m fine, and send me on my way.

That is my prediction for Tuesday afternoon. Let’s hope it comes true!