Tag Archives: restricting

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.

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!

Meal Support

One of the weekly groups that my recovery program offers is Meal Support. Basically, you take in a well balanced meal, eat it within 20 minutes in a room with other people, then you have to hang out for a while (I can’t remember how long) playing a game or working on a puzzle or some other lame activity that is supposed to keep you occupied.

When I was first told of it I dismissed it out of hand. I am fat, obviously I don’t have a problem with eating, so why go sit in a room with other people and eat? I don’t need that kind of help.

The next time I was told of it I asked some questions, then said nope. It doesn’t sound like a thing I need.

And the trend continued.

Then the other week my nutritionist called to reschedule a meeting with her I had cancelled and mentioned that our meeting would end just in time for me to go to Meal Support. I scoffed, said no thanks. She said it would be a good way to challenge myself, and to think about it.

That irritated me. Challenge myself? Am I not already doing that? Well, okay, maybe I’m not challenging myself all that much since I still engage in pretty much all of my restricting behaviours but whatever, that is besides the point.

So I went back and forth on if I would go or not.

Then a friend said something to me that needs a whole post of its own to get in to but really rubbed me the wrong way. What she said, combined with the whole “challenge yourself” thing left me thinking I am not trying hard enough, not doing enough, not working at recovery as much as I should be, so I decided fuck it, I will go to Meal Support.

At one time, when I thought about it, before I decided no, I thought maybe somewhere in the future I would go, but I’m not ready for it right now. I still don’t think I am ready for it…

I had drop-in group last night and one of the two people who run that session is one of the people that run Meal Support so I spoke to her about what exactly I am expected to bring to eat.

I am supposed to bring something from every food group. I am not allowed to bring anything “diet” and I am not allowed to have a salad as my main food component. She suggested I bring a sandwich, a fruit, a yogurt, oh and that the sandwich have protein in it.

That is a fuck lot of food to eat in one sitting.

I asked if my yogurt counted as dairy and fruit since it is a strawberry yogurt…she said no. sigh. It only counts as dairy.

Now I don’t know what to do. I can’t eat that much food in one sitting, let alone in 20 minutes. And it didn’t dawn on me until the other day that I do everything possible to avoid eating in front of other people. Plus, when I do eat, the only way I manage it is to be watching tv or be on social media, I need constant distraction to eat, and I don’t think I will get that tomorrow.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to wimp out and not go. I don’t want to go and have to eat all that food in front of people. I don’t want to fail at yet another part of recovery. I don’t want to ruin my restricting streak by eating all those foods in one day.

I’ve been so good with my restricting lately, I’ve dropped another couple pounds. I can see individual ribs now and I don’t want to lose that. Don’t think I am skinny or something, I am losing weight weird so my tummy, hips and thighs are still disgustingly huge. But some parts of me are getting smaller, mostly around my rib area, and my arms, and my boobs, sigh. Why the boobs? Whyyyyy? 😉

So yeah, I am stressing about this right now, wondering what to do tomorrow, what is going to happen, what will it be like, stuff like that…I am not enjoying this sensation, this butterflies in my tummy, trouble breathing, super nervous, sensation.

I don’t want to go to Meal Support.

But you know that saying:

Feel the fear, and do the thing anyways.

Maybe the fear I am feeling is not fear because of danger and it is keeping me safe. Maybe it is fear that I should fight against and I’ll come out stronger on the other side.

Although, right now, it feels like overwhelming fear that has me panicked and wanting to hide and wondering if I will survive tomorrow, because right now I feel like tomorrow is gonna kill me.

3 Days

For three days in a row I lost 0.5 lbs a day! 🙂  That’s 1.5 lbs in three days!

I know other people lose faster but for me that is freakin amazing! I weighed myself Friday and Saturday before work, those days I worked the late shift so I had slept in (ensuring I didn’t have to eat or realize I was skipping breakfast), had a quick step on the scale before getting ready for work, and was quite happy with where the number was going. I wasn’t going to weigh myself Sunday as I worked the early morning shift and I don’t like weighing myself at different times of the day – these things matter ok? For some reason I decided I would hop on the scale “just to see how it differs at 5:30am vs 12:30pm” and holy fuck I was down another half a pound.

Three days in a row!

I was practically beaming with pride.

What is annoying is there is nobody to tell and celebrate with. Nobody else would think this is a good thing, although I am over the moon happy about it.

I didn’t weigh myself today, I worked the early morning shift again and slept in so I didn’t have time to strip, pee, weigh myself, either celebrate with a happy dance or stare at myself in the mirror and criticize myself (if I had gone up), so I skipped the scale today.

I’m thinking I probably should have taken the time to weigh myself because today after work, and after my after work exercise, I ended up buying two different types of ice cream and ordering a burger and fries from a restaurant that has amazing burgers, sigh.

I ate the burger, the fries, and one Drumstick ice cream and holy fuck my stomach is so messed up now. It has been almost 6 hours since I ate the food and I can still feel it in my stomach! Why isn’t it going anywhere?? It is this lump of food, it is painful, my stomach is actually rounder (food baby anyone? ugh), I am so uncomfortable – and not just “omg I ate something my brain is panicking” uncomfortable, you know, the kind that is all a mental game that you can try to distract yourself from. Nope, this is actual physical discomfort that is making me feel sick, but not throwing up sick, just so not well in my stomach. I don’t have the words to describe how it feels, its just bad ok? It feels bad.

So all that happiness, that pride, that yay I am doing so well at losing weight and being so good with my restricting has come to an abrupt end. A brutal, fast, calorie dense, end.


Why do I always have to fuck up like this?

To top it off I cancelled my appointment with my nutritionist for this week, and tomorrow I will be calling to cancel my being at group session this week. In my defense this isn’t a random decision, I got offered a 12 hour work day for that day and I really need the money so I would have cancelled a visit with the Pope in order to take the work. It does suck that I’m cancelling two recovery related things though…except, does it suck? It should suck. If this was two weeks ago I’d probably be bummed, hell, I might have convinced myself to not take the work, but it’s been a little while since I’ve had a one-on-one cause of scheduling and I barely said two words in group last week so it was almost like not being there, and well, I’ve sorta distanced myself emotionally from the whole process.

I’m debating staying in the recovery program. I don’t know that it is for me. I think I was becoming too reliant on having people that I saw on a regular basis when really, I need to learn how to stand on my own, how to cope with stuff by myself. I think I’ve gotten a bit better, I don’t binge nearly as much now, and that is what I wanted help with. My restricting has become the more prominent behaviour which is helping me lose weight and that was the end goal I wanted – not necessarily to be restricting more but to be binge eating less so I’d lose the weight I put on from binge eating.

And wow this got off track lol this was supposed to be about how I was so excited that I lost half a pound a day for three days in a row – and I would still be happy about that, if I didn’t have a burger and fries and ice cream sitting in my stomach slowly trying to kill me. Ugh.

Does anybody know if slow digestion of a large quantity of food after restricting for a while is normal? I think I heard somewhere the digestion process slows down or something? I swear I can already see the fat from the food making my body fatter, not just my stomach but everywhere. 😦  Thank goodness I have a high activity, low food day, planned for tomorrow!

stop eating 2

You Know When…

You know when you’ve eaten so little during the day that scarfing down two cookies at work doesn’t even put you close to being at your max calories or weight watcher points for the day?

Yeah…that was me today. I didn’t purposefully try to restrict, I just seem to naturally eat less than others. Which works out ok for me when I end up eating something stupid like cookies lol

I had thought I ate a lot but was so busy at work today I didn’t have time to actually track my food, I had just been keeping mental track, knowing I’d get it all in the apps later. Well, later came when I got home, so I sat down and got to work inputting all my food for the day.

At home I had:

1/2 C oatmeal, topped with 2T PB2 and 1T brown sugar

2 pieces of brown toast (bread is a weakness of mine, don’t judge!)

Then at work I had:

Salad, topped with 6 prawns, some fruit, some roasted veggies, 1/4C cottage cheese, and 1t sliced almonds.

2 shortbread cookies

The salad was made for me by the chef so I didn’t have any say what was on it. If I had made it there would not have been any almonds, or cottage cheese, and probably less of the fruit and veg, really, just less of everything. But he made it and I wasn’t going to pick it apart in front of him so I ended up eating it. It was huuuuuge, but so tasty, and because it was so big it was super filling, which I guess is why I felt like I had eaten so much food today.

So going with calories, because that number will mean more to people than my weight watcher tracking info, I ate 770 calories today.

Not so shabby.

But again, I wasn’t trying to eat in that range, it just sorta ended up being what I ate, and truthfully, that is roughly how I eat every day. Now sure, some days are different, I might have an egg and two slices of turkey bacon instead of the oatmeal, but it all kinda averages out.

Wait! I lied! I forgot I had 1C corn flakes and 1/2C 1% milk as a snack.

So see, not as bad as it seemed, I ate 872 calories today. Which actually I don’t like because it is too close to 900 and when I eat 900 or more I freak out and get a tad stressed. *rolls eyes* So annoying!

I guess I’m not really going anywhere with this, I’m just using writing to realize that I naturally tend to eat low calorie most days and I really need to track to know for sure how much I’ve eaten because if asked I would have said I over ate today, when the numbers show I haven’t.

Oh the things to ponder…but not now, now I am going to bed!


There are other things to think about??

F*ck Cancer

Fuck cancer.

I have a friend who one day was fine and the next day he was a little bit sick. He went to the doctor and in the blink of an eye he was diagnosed with terminal cancer.


Not that any one terminal cancer is better than the other but his is particularly aggressive, and painful, and it took him from being a vibrant, active, loving life person, to someone who is in so much pain he is permanently dopey from all the morphine being pumped in to his body. He can barely talk, hell, he is almost never awake. He can’t tell who is around him. He is not himself anymore.

The cancer has taken him from us before it has killed him.

I want to fight, I want to scream, I want to hit things, I want to do something, anything, that shows my grief, and fear, and rage, to the world. As if the world seeing how upset I am would make a difference to what he is going through.

I want it to be over for him because this is not how he wants to go. Not how he deserves to go. He deserves a peaceful, dignified death. What he is getting is painful, and bloody, and brutal, and is tormenting not only himself but those who love him. He lost his wife years ago and every day since then misses her. He still loves her with everything he has, he still talks about her as being the love of his life, he still talks about how much he misses her…or he did before the pain and the morphine took away his ability to talk. He wants to be with her again and even though I am not religious I wish for him, with all my being, that there is something after death, that he will get not just escape from the pain when he dies but the warm comforting love of his wife. I want her to be waiting for him. I want him to find a happy eternity. He deserves that.

He doesn’t deserve the horrible way his eternity is coming to him.

I knew he was sick but today I found out just how sick and I am having trouble coping. I had to stop at the store on the way home and before I knew it I was wandering the bakery aisles because hey, nothing makes grief go away better than diving in to a cake all on your own, right?

I ended up skipping the cakes, and the donuts, and the cheesecakes, and all kinds of things. I knew I wanted something but I wasn’t exactly sure what and I could only afford to buy one thing so it had to be the perfectly right thing to binge on. Feeling inspired I headed to the ice cream aisle. I could envision myself sitting in my living room, in my sweats, eating all the ice cream directly from the container. I slowly wandered the ice cream aisle wondering which flavour to take when I saw chocolate ice cream bars (think fudgesicle just a different brand) that I have had before. They are a “healthy option” ice cream bar type treat that I used last summer as a way to have ice cream without screwing up my food intake for the day.

I was so torn. I really wanted cake but I knew that not only would that screw up my weigh-in this week it would leave me feeling guilty, sick, overly full, depressed, worse about myself…all kinds of negative things, aaaaaaaand…it wouldn’t make my friend better. It wouldn’t make this situation with him better, or easier to manage, or somehow more bearable. It wouldn’t make my grief easier to cope with. It wouldn’t make the pain in my heart easier to deal with. It wouldn’t make the feeling that his death will be the one to break me, do irreparable damage to my psyche, go away. If anything, having a binge would make all those feelings even stronger because they would be backed by shame, and guilt, and all kinds of other binge related emotions.

This whole situation sucks.

In the end I bought the “healthier option” ice cream bars.

On the way home I thought I might go for a run but by the time I got home I was exhausted and didn’t want to. I didn’t even want the ice cream bars, shrug. I showered, ate a half cup of oatmeal (it is a safe food and I knew I was way below my food intake for the day so figured I should have something) and well, then I ended up eating part of a chocolate bar that I had in the fridge. I thought I would eat the whole thing but nope, just some of it. It is now back in the fridge. My appetite is gone…not that it is often there…but all I am right now is a ball of sadness.

It makes me tired, and not wanting to do anything, and I vaguely wonder if this will be the beginning of an extreme restricting cycle because my body is so busy being sad it can’t do anything else…

My coping skills for strong emotions are to dive deeper in to my eating disorder behaviours but that isn’t the best choice for me so I am kind of trying to not engage in them but I don’t have any other coping skills to help me with this so I am left floundering, not knowing what to do.

Fuck you cancer. You suck.