A Brain, Obsessed

I have mentioned a few times about how my eating is fairly repetitive- part of why I don't post pictures more frequently is because my lunches and dinners tend to be the same every day. I haven't been in this habit for a really long time (several years)- sure, I have gone through phases where certain foods make a more regular appearance, but since I was 19 (worst stage of my ED- basically was eating exactly the same foods every day which gradually got cut back as I ran out/stores weren't stocking the *exact* size/shape/brand I 'needed') I have made a VERY concerted effort to have some variety in there...

This has taken different forms over the years- from times where I would rotate the same two dinners, to times in New York when I ate out almost every meal and tried several new things every single day. For the most part, it's been somewhere in between- having food/meals that I eat a few times a week, but trying new things a few times a week.

Since moving into my apartment almost 6 weeks ago, I have pretty much stuck to a "weekly schedule". I have a few breakfasts I rotate, flexibility around snacks (within certain limits/criteria) but my lunches and dinners have been exactly the same. Aside from 1 allotted meal a week that I have something "new", though the past 3 weeks this "new" meal has just been repeated.

Obviously this is problematic. I can't go over to my mom's house for dinner, can't even contemplate the notion of a trip to NY right now...am bored to tears at the thought of eating this same thing one.more.time.

I decided on Wednesday night that I was going to switch things up and reintroduce some of my old fall-back meals into my diet. I ended up spending almost 3 hours writing lists, doing calculations, racking my brains for combinations that met criteria for meals in a healthy sense whilst being "safe" in an ED sense (note to self: the 2 aren't compatible). I sat, curled up on my sofa with 3 notepads, a calculator, old food diaries. Eventually I planned a week's worth of meals that I felt okay with. It was a rather awesome moment- a true "EUREKA", as if I had found the answer to world peace. I went to bed happy and relaxed- only to wake up a couple of hours later FREAKING out because I suddenly realised there were major flaws in my plan. Because god forbid I should be so daring as to get my protein from cottage cheese rather than yogurt, or tofu rather than tuna. I honestly feel like my world is held together by the exact breakdown of my nutritional intake- obviously I know that's not true, but that's how it feels.

So, I curled up on the sofa once again- notepads, calculator, etc, and got back to work.

I must have done this at least 10 times since Wednesday night. Suddenly nothing feels safe, nothing seems to make sense. Laws of science and nutrition, never mind LOGIC don't apply. The foods I DO eat were selected for a very particular reason (coincidentally, one of my meals happens to be the exact same meal I ate when i was 19), and to change it feels so incredibly overwhelming and threatening. So much information conflicting in my brain- everything I have ever read about nutrition/diet (eat soy/don't eat soy, eat dairy/don't eat dairy. eat healthy fats/avoid any fat, vegetarian? vegan? raw? nooooooooo!)

I'm trying to fight these thoughts with just plain common sense. I was eating different foods for 7 years with no major trauma. It's not physically possible to gain 10lbs overnight just by eating a different dinner. It's OKAY if some meals are a little lower in protein or a little higher in fat- in time, it balances out. I KNOW this on an intellectual level, but as soon as I talk myself round and feel okay with the idea of change, my brain starts throwing up roadblocks and "worst case scenarios" which I can't seem to shake off.

Every time I try to distract myself by reading/watching TV/cleaning, all of a sudden a thought will come into my head (more "EUREKA" moments!) and I have to stop, write it down, analyze it, tear it up, give up, go back to reading/TV/cleaning until 5 minutes later it happens again.

I don't know why I am writing this. I feel ridiculous. My mom and my therapist know I obsess about this stuff, but I've never quite shared the extent to which I worry about it. Or quite to what extent things have gotten to with both my intake and thought processes lately.

I feel like the last few weeks have been such a whirlwind- the horrible depression, followed by 2 days of BLISS, followed by this incapacitating thinking. I'm also wondering if due to the depression/psychotic reaction, I really let my guard down on the ED front and focused on the immediate problem- meanwhile, ED has crept in and oh-so-kindly taken care of the food front.

One part of me thinks I can't continue. The other part is saying, "eh- why not? what does it even matter at this point?" I guess depression is still lurking there too. The part of me lacking the motivation to do anything about this is, admittedly, the part that just wants to say "screw it". The part of me that I can't tell whether is depressed of sensible- the part of me that knows that all the goals I had about moving back to New York, work, etc...just aren't going to happen. So why bother trying to fight through barriers when I don't care if I make it to the other side?

Why?

Well the other part of me thinks that 1) of COURSE New York/work/all that "life" stuff isn't going to be an option in the current situation, but 2) I HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE THIS SITUATION.

I'm just not sure HOW. I am beyond exhausted right now. I've had such good intentions to change my meals over the coming days/weeks and the obsessing over it so much is draining beyond words.

This has been long and jumbled and probably not making much sense so I'll end now. I just wanted to try and put into words where I am at right now.

Hope all of you are enjoying Passover or Easter or whatever you are celebrating this weekend.

Aaaand...HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAIME!

Pendulum Swings and Limbo

First of all, I want to say how much I appreciate your comments and kind thoughts on yesterday's post. I have been reading through them today sporadically, and it's been such a comfort to me to feel less alone with this.

Today has been a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings, from one extreme to the other. I know there is no "right" way to feel right now, but I am swamped with guilt around some of the thoughts I have been having right now.

One minute I am thinking, "I wish it was me". A horrible thing to admit to- I am NOT suicidal, but I guess there is a big part of me that just wants a way out of this. I don't want to say it's the "easy way out" because I don't think anyone, my amazing friend included, would take such a decision so lightly and without thought, but having it brought 'home' somehow makes it seem like... I don't know. Not an "option" per se, but a little less of "one of those things you read about in newspapers".

Then there is this other part of me that is SO grateful to not be in that place right now. I'm stuck and I'm struggling, but I'm looking for answers, solutions, ways forward, rather than embracing the dark shadows around me. I am grateful that I didn't succeed in my last suicide attempt, grateful that I *have* what I have- ie, a chance to make things better. I don't know how or when or what that will look like, but as long as I am alive and relatively well, I have more than a fighting chance of making a life for myself.

The moments of wishing it was me are fleeting but disturbing. More disturbing due to the sheer contrast between the other thoughts about using this to really throw myself headfirst into recovery and leave this behind. Using it as fuel to fight the fire that anorexia burns, using it as momentum to swing things around and start embracing life in all it's (albeit hideous at times) glory.

Torn between darkness and light, torn between wanting to stand up and say, "Enough- I am reclaiming my LIFE" and lying down just thinking about all the people this disease claims as it's own, and wondering why I should even entertain the notion that my future won't be the same.

It's scary to think about the statistics of eating disorders- the percentage that die, the percentage that struggle for the rest of their lives. It doesn't make a pretty picture to look at the charts and tables, the graphs and results, the data, the evidence, the research studies.

But you know what? F*** it. These studies only look at small pieces of evidence. YES, eating disorders kill. Either directly as a result of the behaviour, or more subtly by eroding the soul until suicide seems like the only viable option. And I don't believe it's just a choice of recovery/sickness. I really think people make the best choice they have, based on the options they see in front of them.

So what do I see?

I see a blank canvas. I have dreams of living back in New York one day. As soon as possible. It will always be where I call "home" and it's heartbreaking for me to not be there- but it's one of my main motivations for recovery and I'm not going to get dragged down by the fact that I am NOT there, because that blocks me from taking the steps to get there.

What else do I want?

I want freedom from my rituals and obsessions. I want to be spontaneous- to grab dinner somewhere just because I am hungry and need to eat on my way to do something. I want to have friends I can meet for brunch, go to comedy clubs with, go to bookstores with, wander around and take goofy photos with. I want to go to people's houses for dinner, take day trips to the beach. I want a regular-houred office job that I LIKE (or at least, not hate), but that doesn't define who *I* am. No more "Devil Wears Prada" scenarios, but something I feel good about doing, something that interests me, something that pays enough to not have to work 16 hour days and still barely cover my rent. I want to discover what it means to me to be close to someone, to share my time and thoughts with someone who is interested in me as more than a client/patient. Someone who makes me laugh but can take me seriously when I need them to. Someone who likes falling asleep at night watching "Scrubs" and looks forward to a big cup of hazelnut coffee in the morning. I want to go on bike rides on Sunday mornings, visit farmers markets, go to swing parks and night and rock back and forth looking at the stars. I want to go camping and fall over in muddy puddles, walk in the rain and gather round a campfire at night drinking hot chocolate.

I want so much more than what anorexia will ever give me, but ultimately it comes down to this: do I want all of that more than I want to be thin?

Yes. The problem I have is believing that by giving up the body/weight control, I'll have a chance at creating the life I want. It's NOT possible to have it both ways. To "not have the cake and not eat it either" :P There is this horrible limbo period at the start of recovery, when it feels as though you are giving up the "good" parts of the eating disorder, but yet to reap any of the benefits of recovery. They come later. Much later.

How do I hold onto the bigger dreams I have for my life, whilst living through the limbo?..

Reclaiming Power

Two choices.

ED thought: either act on it, or ignore it.

Act on it = it comes back again, stronger and harder to resist

Don't act on it = it comes back again, maybe stronger at first, but then softer and softer until it has NO power over me

I don't know if the thoughts and urges I have will ever go away completely. I don't know if I'll ever LOVE my body or fully be able to relax around food all the time. But I am striving towards a freedom I don't have.

I DO believe that I'll be able to eat cake on my own birthday, feel good in a pair of jeans, not weigh myself constantly. That I'll reach some level of trust with my body, my appetite, my surroundings. Why? Because those things are within MY control. I can choose whether I spend 4 hours walking, or I can choose to sit with the feelings that come up if I DON'T walk. Either way, there are consequences...either feeling crappy mentally, or feeling crappy physically. The difference being that if I DO walk, I then have to do it again tomorrow, more the next day. If I don't? I sit around feeling guilty and lazy. Tomorrow maybe worse. This time next week, I see I have survived. The world is still turning. Nothing drastic has changed except I have taken that little bit more power back.

Update on walking: I woke up this morning, jumped out of bed and something did not feel right. Not the mild pain I have been ignoring all week, but an inability to actually make it down the hallway to go to the bathroom. I'm not sure if it's from the cold, the bad shoes, old stress fractures or WHAT (I'll go see my doc later this week) but I LISTENED TO MY BODY AND RESTED. I was anxious, but I am dealing with it. Not comfortably, but c'est la vie. The benefits of not walking today far outweigh the cons and I'm NOT going to feel bad for taking a day to rest and recover. YEAH!