Tag Archives: calorie restricting

While On Vacation

I went home to attend a wedding. While there I hung out with various friends.

The best thing said to me the entire time I was there:

while being hugged – “you’re wasting away”

The worst thing said to me the entire time I was there:

after eating dinner at a friend’s place – “wow, I’ve never seen you eat so much in my place before”

Sidenote, I ate the same amount of food as my friend in an attempt to appear normal, it wasn’t like I had a binge session at her place or something.

Guess which of the two comments has repeated itself in my head every day since it was said to me. Guess which of the two comments has fueled my restricting tendencies. Guess which of the two comments makes me want to cry, to scream, to quit this ridiculous thing called life.

Only one of those comments affected my behaviour, the way I feel and see myself, my self-esteem…and you can bet your ass it wasn’t the compliment.

 

 

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Under Control

Ok today was better, making me feel like an idiot for posting last night when I was freaking out.

Sorry ’bout that.

Today I got my workout in while keeping my calories low and I’m feeling much better about things. More in control.

I’m about to go to bed, just thought I’d pop on here and say things are ok again so as to not leave the most recent post on my blog one of me spazzing lol

ok

Dentist Time

I have a dentist appointment tomorrow, well, technically today since it is 1:15am, but whatever.

I have a love – hate relationship with dentists.

I hate going to the dentist and having someone poke around in my mouth. Ugh.

I love my dentist though because he is crazy hawt, super nice, we have a lovely little flirt every time I am there, and well, it is the most conversation I have with a man pretty much ever. Pathetic I know!

I also love going to the dentist because it gives me a built in legit reason to not eat for most, if not all, of the rest of the day.

WooHoo!

See, tomorrow isn’t a normal check-up and cleaning. Tomorrow he is taking out an old filling and redoing it, he discovered something wrong with it at my standard cleaning a couple weeks ago. I need a ridiculous amount of freezing to not feel anything, so by the time he is done I have lost feeling in the entire side of my face. Literally, the entire side from the bottom of my eye to my jaw. It is crazy. I don’t care for the sensation, or lack there of, when it is frozen or when it is slowly coming back from being frozen. What I do love is that because it is so frozen I can’t eat. Hell, I can barely manage to sip water.

Nothing like trying to drink something and having it dribble out the side of your mouth that you can’t control *rolls eyes*

My appointment is at noon, no way will I eat before going, I don’t eat that early in the day. And when it is over I’ll be too numb to be able to eat anything. So I’ll spend the rest of my day with a warm compress on my cheek, sitting in my apartment chillin, and NOT eating.

I. Can’t. Wait.

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

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.

Seriously??

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 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.

Fuck.

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.

Fuck.

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.

Fuck.

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!

Sick

Last work week (I work Fridays through Tuesdays) I got exposed to a plethora of germs because people at work decided that even though they were sick, like, super sick, they’d still come to work because “I never get sick, it isn’t that bad”…only to have to leave early because of just how sick they were.

I really, and I mean reeeally, hate when people come to work sick.

Keep your freakin germs to yourself people!

Anyways…

When I was leaving work Monday I was feeling it, the sore throat, the sniffles, the tiredness. Definite signs I was getting sick. I ran errands instead of going to the gym like I had planned and stocked up on DayQuil, kleenex, throat lozenges, the apple juice mentioned in a previous post, and Vitamin C drops.

A sick person’s survival kit!

I didn’t end up as sick as the others though and stupidly thought I’d managed to escape the horrible-wish-I-was-dead version of this illness. Now I think I might have just been incubating it and it is about ready to make itself fully known…just in time for my new work week. Fuck.

I spent Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday taking things easy. I mean, I still had things to do (a work shift Tuesday and two appointments Wednesday in regards to my eating disorder recovery) but other than those things I stayed at home, read books, cuddled with the cat, and tried to let my body rest.

Oh, and I took AirBorne, I swear by that stuff.

Wednesday I thought I was pretty much better and I’d be able to go to the gym Thursday, Thursday came though and omg I think I am getting worse. My voice is kinda going. My sinuses are doing worse (plugged and runny nose at the same time, super annoying!), I’m cold, can’t focus, basically a lot of the symptoms of, oh I don’t know, a sick person.

So tomorrow, because I can’t find someone to cover my shift I will be that person who goes to work sick, and spreads her germs. Ugh.

In regards to my eating disorder, getting sick like this does not help me at all. Well, unless you listen to my eating disorder, it is practically doing hand stands because of how little I am able to eat when sick.

Even when not sick I suck at following a meal plan but I try to eat twice a day…which depending on where you are in recovery sounds like not enough or way too much. To me it still sounds like too much, but I try really hard to manage it. It took a while to build up to that much food in one day and I don’t really like it, shrug.

When sick any thought of following a meal plan basically goes right out the window. My appetite disappears, nothing tastes right, I have even less interest in food. Most of my brain thinks these are all great things but the part of me that is learning shit in recovery knows that these aren’t great things.

My ed brain says:

Eating broth and drinking tea is a totally acceptable thing to do. One bowl of broth is definitely a days worth of calories.

My recovery side says:

Not enough food dumb ass.

My ed brain says:

You’re sick, you don’t have to eat when you’re sick. Don’t worry about it.

My recovery side says:

The less you eat the harder it is for your body to get better. You need nutrients to get better. Eat something!

My ed brain says:

If you’re going to eat something then you’re going to ruin all the benefits of being sick. Think of how quickly you’re losing weight right now. Think of how easy it is because you don’t have an appetite because you’re sick. Why throw that away? Be strong! Don’t eat! You don’t need food! But if you do eat then you might as well binge because you’re a failure, a loser who can’t manage the simple task of not eating. You don’t deserve to be skinny. You don’t deserve to get to your goal. If you’re going to eat then eat something ridiculous, something high calorie, something that will make you feel bloated, and overly full, and gross, because you deserve to feel all those things if you eat, because you failed.

My recovery side says:

It says nothing. Because it is barely a whisper in my mind on my best days and it can’t stand up to my ed brain when it is on a roll.

So here I am, sick. I did manage a meal the other day that had all 4 food groups in it. A small meal. Probably it is classified as more of a snack, but to me it is a meal. And a win.

Today…not so much.

Today I ate soup, though I had two bowls instead of one, which I guess counts for something. And I had some bread, because I am weak and I like bread…but is it weak that I like bread and choose to eat it or is it ok to eat something I like, in moderation…I question this but I know what I feel the answer is, it is weak, and I am weak for eating the bread. Just because I like it doesn’t mean I should eat it. I like a lot of things I don’t eat anymore. Bread is useless calories, unnecessary food, I should really get rid of it, sigh.

I weighed myself today and am down 3 pounds in three days. Which the majority of me is thrilled about, but also terrified I will screw up and as a result of the terror my brain has been screaming at me all day to not eat ever again or those three pounds will pile back on with a whole bunch more. But ya know what, I ate the soup anyways, so fuck you voice!

Oh god, I don’t mean it, I do mean it, I don’t know what I mean. I’m so confused.

I don’t want to be a lost cause to my recovery team. I don’t want to be one of those people who they feel is beyond their help and is let go so someone more deserving can be given help. I think I am one of those people though, and they’ll figure it out soon, and I’ll be left alone to deal with what is in my head, and I will fold to the ed and stop fighting even the small amount I am fighting, and I’ll be screwed.

You know, this post was going to be about how I lost three pounds in three days and isn’t that so great? But apparently I have other shit on my mind right now…who knew something could be bigger in my head then a lower number on the scale? This cold must be really messing with my brain. *rolls eyes*