Exercise Revisited

Well, I'm still not exercising. That's over five months of being pretty much completely sedentary. True, I walk around campus during the day, but not excessively and not any more than I really need to for getting myself from one place to another. For now, I don't think I walk any more or less than any other college student would on a biggish campus.

Here's the summary: For years, I've been a runner. I ran lots all last year and over the summer until I hurt my hip, when I switched to swimming/biking/elliptical-ing. When I got back to school in the fall, I continued biking a lot, plus added some running back in; in general, I was pretty obsessive about it. Then in November, my heel/Achilles tendon started KILLING me and I could barely walk, much less run or work out at all. So I abruptly quit going to the gym and haven't been back since. I can objectively report that this is the longest stretch I've gone without regular exercise in at least seven or eight years.

At first, it really really sucked. I felt constantly fat and antsy and miserable. Without the chance to blow off some steam every morning, I was literally crawling out of my skin. Plus, my foot took FOREVER to heal. Like, I was still limping in January, more than a full two months after I originally got hurt. Since then, it's finally gotten a lot better and now I'm almost ready (knock on wood) to pronounce it cured. Other than the occasionally twinge, it feels fine.

Throughout this whole saga, I've been absolutely terrified about gaining weight. It didn't (still sort of doesn't) seem possible to reduce the calories-out half of the equation and not gain weight. Despite all that, I pretty much kept my intake the same, even increased a tiny bit, and my weight held steady for a few months. Sometime during the winter, though, it started creeping up. Maybe there's a bit of a delay? Maybe my metabolism's just funky? Anyway, it didn't increase a ton (i.e. less than five pounds) but it still freaked me out. In January, I got my period for the first time in nine months, and I'm really curious as to whether or not cutting the exercise had anything to do with that.

Then I got sick over my spring break, lost some weight, and that's basically where I am now.

There were several weeks in there somewhere when I was okay with not exercising. It almost felt nice to take a break and not have that constant internal pressure to get my butt to the gym. But lately, I've been really missing it. Actually, I miss running outside most of all. The weather has been absolutely beautiful and all I see are other runners everywhere I go. It isn't painful to watch anymore like it used to be, but seeing runners definitely reminds me that I used to do that, and I used to love it.

At this point, I'm thinking about exercising again in a vague, noncommittal way. Like, I haven't set a date for when I plan to start back up again or anything like that, but it's in back of my mind, nagging at me, getting louder and louder all the time. And it doesn't necessarily feel like an ED urge, I promise, although I definitely need to be careful of that. It feels more like me wanting to do something that I've always done, even during my healthiest times, and that I want to do again because it makes me feel good.

My therapist and dietician have not given me the green light to resume exercise, although I also haven't really pushed the issue with them since my foot has kept me from working out for so long anyway. But I did work out all last fall, which they knew about and didn't forbid me from doing. At my appointment yesterday, R did mention that I really shouldn't be running until I put some weight back on, but he mused about whether or not the exercise would help increase my appetite and make the meal plan look a bit more palatable. (Obviously I would need to replace any additional calories burned off.)

I guess my biggest concerns now are that A) I'm worried about getting hurt again, and B) I'm worried about getting obsessed again. I don't know how to exercise without finding myself stuck in the pattern of needing to do more each day than I did the day before. All last summer and fall, I was incredibly obsessive and ritualistic about my workouts, to the point where my day would be absolutely ruined if I didn't get a good workout in. I would arrange my days around my workouts, and I would hate myself for missing one. To be clear: I don't want to go back to that. But being in shape also makes me feel strong and powerful, and I miss that so much.

Status Update

The facts:
1) I have lost weight.
2) I am currently at my lowest weight in a year.
3) I am not eating enough to maintain - much less gain - although my weight has been holding pretty steady the last couple weeks (i.e. my metabolism sucks at the moment).

Why this is bad:
1) I had begun to make progress in recovery over the last few months, and now I'm going backwards.
2) Restricting makes my eye problems a lot worse. Finals are coming up and this would be a really inconvenient time to go blind.
3) There are lots of other obvious health reasons that I don't feel like outlining now (including but not limited to: heart/bone/fertility-related stuff).
4) My internship starts in about six weeks, and I cannot let myself get too sick to work.
5) I want to be a grown-up, not a patient.

The plan:
1) Eat more. I'm not trying to be flippant here - this really is the first step. Doesn't matter if I get in the two Boosts a day or finish the whole meal plan, but I need to start taking in more than I currently am.
2) Do not start exercising yet. I should probably do another post on this soon, but I haven't formally worked out in almost five months. Recently, I've been thinking about starting it up again, but I'm not entirely convinced that my motivations aren't ED-fueled at the moment. It probably wouldn't hurt to take my time with that.
3) Get rid of my black skinny jeans that I've recently been able to wriggle back into. They should not fit me, I know this, and wearing them now will only make it harder once they get too tight to button again. I need to suck it up and ignore the fact that I get some sick pleasure out of being able to wear them. What is wrong with me? Seriously, K, just throw out the damn jeans.

An Uneventful Evening

Well, I made it through my harrowing ordeal last night. Just kidding, it actually went fine and I had a decent time. It was a big event with lots of people and food/drinks, so there was definitely an underlying anxiety factor throughout - but I got through, ate a reasonable amount, realized that no one really pays all that much attention to what I am/am not eating, and survived to blog about it. Story over.

The hardest part was getting ready beforehand, actually. I was feeling super nervous about the night ahead and super uneasy about the food in my stomach from earlier (literally same thing I eat every day. No idea why it made me feel 10 pounds heavier than usual yesterday). I was also a little fuzzy on the dress code for the event, meaning I had to walk a fine line between underdressed and overdressed while ALSO taking into account the fact that I felt like a whale. But I made it out the door with all body parts appropriately covered in nice-ish pants, a nice-ish top, a cardigan, and flats. Soo...mission accomplished?

Anyway, I wish there were a more exciting story to tell, but that was pretty much it. I don't know why it's so hard for me to believe that the fate of the world doesn't hinge on how much I eat in any given night, but really, it's hard. Just another product of a disorderly and profoundly self-absorbed brain. It can't be very interesting for you guys to read about my periodic freak-outs over this kind of stuff just to come to the same anti-climactic conclusion every time - sorry about that!

I also promise to try and stop complaining about how much I hate therapy. My life isn't always so boring, I swear. I'll think of better stuff to write about soon.

Happy Easter and belated Passover, everyone!

Challenging Night Ahead

In about an hour, I will be heading out for a potentially VERY scary night - lots of food, drinks, new people, eek. I am proud to report that I have not restricted today in preparation...although to be honest, I'm having major feelings of guilt and regret about that, and I'm starting to panic about just how much food there's going to be at this thing. Up until about thirty minutes ago, I was more excited than nervous about it, but I've since started to get pretty anxious.

Some important things to remember:
A) I have eaten a completely normal amount of food thus far today, so there is no reason that my stomach should be sticking out any more than it does any other day when I eat the exact same amount. Hence, my mind must be playing tricks on me and I have not actually gained five pounds since lunch.
B) Regardless of how much food there is tonight, I am in control of how much I eat. Although there might be some peer pressure to eat more than I am comfortable with, no one is going to force food down my throat. And if someone tries, I will call the cops because in all seriousness, that sounds like assault.
C) Even if I do end up eating more than what feels safe, one big meal is not going to make me gain weight.
D) Even if I do end up gorging on an unimaginable amount of calories and do gain weight, I am underweight and need to gain anyway.
E) But really, I won't gain weight.
F) Maybe just some water weight on the scale tomorrow, but that will go away.
G) Really.
H) I'm not fat.
I) It's gonna be okay.

Okay. I think I'm ready. Full report to come tomorrow.

Another Therapy Rant

I'm really sorry to go here again, but my appointment with R today was so lame and uninspiring. Of all things, we talked about - wait for it - basketball. No, I'm not a basketball fan. No, my college doesn't have a good team. No, I don't know what "full-court press" means (even though R tried to explain it in quite some detail). To be fair, R did ask me at the beginning what I wanted to talk about. Only half-joking, I said: "Not Boost." It's true, I'm really sick of R harping on the Boost issue. My weekly success or failure seems to, at least in R's eyes, hinge on whether or not I drank the prescribed number of supplements, regardless of whatever else I ate that week. I've got issues with that approach, but that's a whole other post.

Anyway, after that it felt like R was doing everything possible to avoid talking about food or weight at all. So we talked basketball, authors, poverty, school, and some other equally random stuff. It's not that I don't find any of that interesting, it's just that my parents are paying for a therapist, not for a conversationalist. A couple of times I even tried steering the conversation back towards more relevant topics, but it never really stuck. As a result, I was withdrawn and unengaged and pretty unsure of what I was doing there.

Really, what am I doing so wrong? I don't know what I'm supposed to be getting out of therapy, but I know this: whatever it is, I'm not getting it. Honestly, the only part of the whole ordeal that ever makes any impression on me is the weigh-in. I get super nervous and stressed out about stepping on the scale; I freak out internally for a good 24 hours in advance, and then it's over in three seconds. And then I sit down in R's chair and my mind promptly goes blank.

Actually, that's not true. I'm not always totally unemotional. In fact, sometimes I find myself almost in tears, but it's never because we're making profound emotional breakthroughs or anything - it's usually just because I can't express myself accurately and get frustrated when R misinterprets what I mean. Then I get mad at myself for even trying and clam up.

I really want to make this work. Not only is he covered by my insurance, but R is at the top of his field and I really do like him as a person. I'm trying so hard to be more open and bring up stuff that's bothering me, but to be perfectly honest, I still suck at it. 

In other news:

- Another girl from my school has started coming to Treatment Center on Friday mornings. She isn't just a random girl, either. She used to be president of a club I'm in, and we also live in the same neighborhood so I see her walking to/from campus fairly regularly. I actually never suspected that she had an eating disorder, although she is very thin. She sees a different therapist (not R), so at least I don't have to worry about an extra layer of non-anonymity, but still. We haven't actually acknowledged each other yet, since it's just been a couple weeks and our time in the waiting room has only overlapped by a few minutes, but Oh. My. God. So awkward.

- While heading out to my car after my appointment today, I saw two different patients arriving for the day program, and both had feeding tubes. The weird/scary part: one was a teenage girl, and the other was a middle-aged woman.I guess I should be grateful that I at least still have the option to drink my Boost instead of having it pumped into my stomach.

A Happy Hodgepodge

Things are still going well. It is sort of bewildering to me that I can have such a string of consecutive great days, although I am certainly not complaining in any way, shape, or form. Every morning, I wake up and roll out of bed, drink my delicious coffee, eat some breakfast, and somewhere along the way it hits me that I'm not miserable or panicky or dreading the day ahead and I wonder: is this...could this be...happiness?

Not that I don't have my moments of stress and exhaustion. There are still a few nagging health issues, but they aren't completely destroying me like they were a month or so ago. Minor snags and inconveniences during the day don't send me into a tailspin anymore. I feel so much more in control of my mind and my emotions that suddenly, life is manageable. I don't know how else to describe it. Maybe it's more that I'm just on an even keel than actually happy; regardless, this is SUCH an improvement over the past few months that I'll take it, no questions asked! Don't jinx it don't jinx it don't jinx it.

There's some stuff coming up that I am really excited about - academically, professionally, and socially. Yesterday, I had a meeting with a professor that elevated my self-esteem in such profound, non-body-image-related ways that I think it may have assisted my recovery more in twenty minutes than a year of therapy has. (Note: I wholeheartedly refute the idea that anorexia is caused by bad self-esteem, but it sure doesn't help!)

Food is okay - not optimal, not horrible. I'm trying to do better. On Friday, R brought up the possibility of drinking Boost there in his office rather than trying to do it on my own. My first reaction was absolutely positively NO. The thought of choking down a supplement in front of him is mortifying. But then I started wondering if maybe it would be better to take away the choice, protect myself from having to agonize over it, and just get the damn Boost down. At this point, I don't trust myself to do it at home. Then again, do I really want to make therapy any more uncomfortable for myself than it already is? Ack. Has anyone ever had to eat/drink something in therapy, and was it helpful?

And a final random tidbit: I may end up starting birth control after all (for non-birth control, non-bone-density-related reasons). Any advice? This probably goes without saying, but duh: I'm afraid of weight gain. Feel free to e-mail if you prefer: kem0913@gmail.com. Thanks!

Messing Up

I'm starting to freak out a little bit about going to see my dietician tomorrow. I didn't do so good with the meal plan this week, and I'm dreading trying to explain to her why I messed up again. Every logical course of reasoning points to: A) follow the meal plan, B) drink the damn Boost, and C) get the hell over the fact that your butt will get bigger. It all makes perfect sense. But then why is this so damn hard to actually do?