Spring Reading

Another random book recommendation: Beautiful Boy by David Sheff. It's a memoir by a father whose son is a crystal meth addict. He talks a lot about the neurobiology of addiction; how addiction is an illness with genetic roots that gets activated by environmental factors—sound familiar?

Sheff writes: "[My son] admitted that he sometimes wished that he had any other illness, because no one would blame him. And yet cancer patients, for example, would be justifiably disgusted by this. All an addict or alcoholic has to do is stop drinking, stop using!" JUST EAT. Right?

source

I think anyone who has struggled with an eating disorder has felt stigmatized, guilty, ashamed, etc. at some point or another. It's hard not to. On one hand, you get endless praise for how skinny and awesome at dieting you are—and the next minute, your dad is crying next to you because he can't understand why you won't just eat. If you're lucky enough to have a family with resources, those resources get sucked down the drain pretty quickly to therapy, treatment centers, medications, and Boost. Even the clinicians themselves can succeed in making you feel pretty crappy. Why aren't you better yet?? It's damn near impossible for people to understand that sufferers of addiction or EDs aren't in control of their behaviors most of the time. They're completely out of control. They're not themselves. They're sick. That's the whole point.

I've never had a drug or alcohol problem, but it seems like there is a lot of overlap with eating disorders in terms of stigmatization, theories of etiology, and The Blame Game. Nothing but sympathy here for those suffering and their families.

College Nostalgia, Summer Employment, Drug Updates

Hi everyone—I'm just chilling out at my kitchen table not working on my final papers after a semi-eventful week. Completed my last college class EVER on Thursday (well, until I start graduate school, I suppose). I texted my dad about this momentous occasion as I was heading into the classroom that afternoon, and his response was: "Cut." Anyways, I did not, which was wise because the professor brought snacks from Trader Joe's and we had class outside, so that was lovely.

We had our big end-of-semester outdoor concert on campus yesterday—it has a tendency to turn into a rip-roaring shit show most years, but that's mostly because of the freshmen who start drinking at 9 in the morning and then wonder why they're puking by noon. Being the classy and sophisticated seniors that we are, my friends and I made sangria from a mixture of red wine, bood orange juice, triple sec, apples and oranges, which was fruity and delicious albeit a smidge strong.

Sangria

I had been feeling lame and un-festive ahead of time, and thought about skipping the whole thing, but then decided to suck it up and go. Good thing, too, because it was so much fun. Towards the end of the night, I found myself sitting on some steps with a group of friends, still kind of tipsy but very much lucid and self-aware, watching the sky turn beautiful colors over the campus, and thought to myself, I'm really happy right now. Totally worth it, just for that moment.

Other news from the past week: I got hired as a research assistant for a project through my graduate program, which is AWESOME. Really looking forward to the work, which should be fascinating. This particularly study probably won't extend much beyond the summer, but it's still a great way to get my foot in the door for future positions.

I saw my psychiatrist earlier this week for the first time since December, when I was a miserable sobbing mess. She works in the same clinic as my ex-therapist R and I was positively TERRIFIED of running into him, but luckily that didn't happen. Anyway, it was nice to talk with Dr. L about how much better I'm doing overall. We discussed some of my fears over graduating, moving out on my own, and handling the potential for increased anxiety/depression that might result. Ultimately we decided to leave my meds alone for now and talk again in 3 months. Unless things start to spiral downward again, I think my current dose is probably fine for the time being. Not sure what the protocol is for staying on SSRIs longterm—I don't particularly want to be medicated forever, but things seem to be working and I have zero desire to come off my meds anytime soon. It would seem ill-advised to mess with a good thing right on the cusp of some major life changes.

Okay, I guess I should probably/maybe/ehh start thinking about my finals. I GUESS.

Inspired/Tired

Feeling kind of down tonight, in a really weird way. I'm sitting here reading the news and working on my anthropology paper and realizing that there is so much need in the world, and I've got every privilege and intention in the world that would allow me to help. But instead of feeling inspired and empowered, I'm feeling defeated.

My body is broken. I'm in pain. I am not living life the way I want and I'm not accomplishing the things I want because I physically can't do it. Things have improved some—my pain levels are vastly lower than they were even just two or three months ago. So things are looking up and I have no reason to believe that things won't continue to improve...but, you know. For the most part, I'm past the point of worrying that this nerve pain will last forever, but I'm also sick and tired of waiting for it to end.

I'm not depressed, just frustrated. And so, so tired. I want to do good things in the world. I have so much to give. Just wish this damn body would give me the chance.

Wisdom Teeth and Things

Well, it looks like I'm going to get my wisdom teeth out ASAP. I finally caved and went to the dentist yesterday afternoon and she told me my gum was "alarmingly swollen." Whoops. Trying to decide how to fit this in—I'll be done with classes/papers/exams in about two weeks, and then have two weeks free before graduation, so I suppose I should try to schedule the surgery then. Hopefully there won't be any complications and I'll still have plenty of time for senior year festivities, packing up my stuff, and moving into my new place on May 15.

I went for a run this morning, and am still taken aback by how out of shape I am. I used to run forever without getting tired, and now I can barely make it 10-15 minutes without my chest burning and feeling like I've done a full-out sprint and might literally DIE. I suppose that's to be expected, since I've gone basically cardio-less for over a year, but it's still pretty humbling. That being said, it's probably good that my body opts out before I'm able to get too much intense exercise in, since I'm not really supposed to be doing much cardio to begin with. My homework from Dr. P was to check out Pilates this week—one of my friends and I used to take a class occasionally at the gym at home one summer and I really liked it, but haven't done it since.

ballz

Anyway, I swear I'm not overdoing the exercise. I've also pretty much stopped weighing myself, which is HUGE for me. I have a Word doc on my computer documenting my daily weight (sometimes twice daily) since 2009, but have weighed myself maybe three times in the past month. And yes, this is partly because my weight is currently higher than it was for most of the past four years and I hate seeing the numbers, but also because I've accepted that this is simply the way things need to be. I know that I'm not overeating, I'm taking care of myself, putting my health first, and whatever my weight decides to do cannot be a deterrent. YOU GUYS, WHO AM I? Look at me, being all rational.

In Which My Colorful Post Title Comes Back to Bite Me

Oh lord, someone found my blog by searching "images of boobs." I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume that this was not exactly what Mr. Perv was expecting... Sorry to disappoint! But I hope you learned a valuable lesson about healthy body image!

Pre-Therapy Update

Ouchies, I have a sore throat AND a sore wisdom tooth. Advil's helping some, but swallowing cereal this morning was no fun. Is this retroactive mono? I don't think I have a fever or anything, and don't really feel sick other than the sore throat and sleepiness. Anyway, what's really weird is that I didn't have a cold for several years while underweight and restricting in ED Land. But now that I am weight restored and eating a complete, balanced diet, I've had three major colds in the last six months. WEIRD. My dad has a theory that your body knows not to get sick during times of stress, and then once the high-stress period has passed, your immune system lets down its guard. Papa is no doctor (well, he has  Ph.D. so I suppose he's technically Dr. Papa but in a very un-medical field) but backs up his cockamamie theories with anecdotes about how he used to always get sick the week after exams in high school and college.

Anyway, just popped some more ibuprofen so hopefully this burning throat will ease up soon. And I promise not to spread any mono germs through the keyboard.

Holy hell this semester is going by quickly. Graduation is a month from today. It's kind of hard to grasp how much my life has changed over the last year, and will continue to change over the coming months—hopefully for the better. One of my professors sent me the sweetest e-mail ever the other night saying how much she loved having me in class and how excited she was for me to be going into my chosen field (not the same field as my undergrad major, but related). So that totally made my night and got me even more pumped to get out there and do things.

I'm seeing Dr. P later this morning, and really want to talk about some of the fears I've been having. Hopefully on the agenda:

— geting myself in the best possible headspace for moving out on my own

— setting up the right kind of support/social system

— staying the course with eating/weight (my body image is...not so good right now)

So, I'll keep you all posted on how it goes. Happy Wednesday!

My Thoughts Are in Boston

I am in shock and horror over the marathon bombing. If there is a hell, I hope the hottest fieriest corner is reserved for whoever did this. Best wishes to anyone in that part of the country, hope you all kept safe and no one close to you was hurt. I have a ton of friends who go to school in Boston and some family who live there, and everyone I've talked to seems to be shaken up but okay.

Seems kind of trivial to talk about anything else with this hanging over our heads, but I suppose the most productive, uplifting way to respond is by keeping our heads high and remembering what matters, and what's going to matter in 10 or 20 or 50 years. Not our weights, not what we had for breakfast, not how many calories we burned at the gym, not whether or not our butts looked kind of chunky in skinny jeans. What's going to matter is how we invested our time and our intelligence and our love. How we helped people just because. How we tried as hard as we could to make the world a happier, safer, more tolerant place. How we drank the damn Boost even though it sucked, and put up with the pain and the ickiness and the tears because what good are we doing by hurting ourselves? How we hurt ourselves because we were sick, and then came out on the other side and STILL wanted to invest our time and our intelligence and our love in others. 

That's what will matter, and that's all I can see worth taking away from something like this. Because something like this should never happen, it just shouldn't.