There was an article in the New York Times earlier this week about how the "Freshman Fifteen" is more like the "Freshman Three" or so, which made me laugh. Not in an out-loud HAHAHAHA way, but more of an isn't-that-ironic, thanks-a-lot-NYTimes-but-too-little-too-late way.
Honestly, a fear of gaining huge amounts of weight was a big contributor to my restrictive eating habits that intensified when starting college. After my initial big weight loss during middle school, I had slowly regained and maintained a healthy weight throughout high school. Then I basically starting restricting again the summer before freshman year. The idea being that I had to prepare for and counteract the inevitable Freshman Fifteen. I dropped a bit of weight then, pretty much maintained through the school year (2009-2010), and started losing again over the summer.
Obviously, the ED was caused by a LOT of factors and manifested itself way before I was even thinking about college, but I have to believe that a fear of the stereotypical freshman weight gain definitely played a role in triggering the relapse I'm still dealing with today. That's not to say that if I'd read an article over the summer of 2009 about how my fears of the Freshman Fifteen were completely unfounded I would've never returned to the eating disorder, but still. Makes me wonder. And laugh, a little.
Showing posts with label college. Show all posts
Showing posts with label college. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Unplanned Hiatus
Oops, I didn't mean to go for a week without blogging. The break was only PARTLY my fault, since my laptop has been in the Computer Hospital since Friday.
Even before the laptop fiasco though, I was being lazy about updating. I guess I'm a little worried about always rehashing the same things - therapy, food, restaurant stress, body image blahs, etc. All of the above are definitely still very relevant to my life, but I shouldn't assume that everyone always wants to hear me bitch and moan about them. Any ideas for more interesting posts?
Anyway, a quick recap of the last week: therapy was...interesting. And stressful. My dietician J showed me a graph of my weight since I started seeing her and R. Basically, it was a straight line. Meaning, obviously, my weight has not changed in the past eight or so weeks. While this wasn't surprising (I weigh myself at home), I did have mixed feelings about seeing it mapped out in black and white. The eating disordered part of me always wants to lose weight. Always. The ED part only cares about the graph - why isn't the line going down?
At the same time, though, there is so much more going on than what showed up on J's graph. I am way more happy, social, and sane than I was eight weeks ago. While I admittedly have not thrown myself wholeheartedly into weight gain, I have no plans to starve and lose any. I don't feel fat; I just don't feel thin. So, staying at the same weight doesn't necessarily feel wrong, even though I KNOW that I am underweight and should, from a medical standpoint, gain at least X pounds to get back to where I last got my period.
J and R, however, are quite concerned that I haven't put on any weight since starting treatment with them. Both tossed around the idea of IP a couple of times - more as a scare tactic than as an actual threat, I think - but they are still going to work with me as long as I am "willing." It bothers me that they see me as UNwilling, since I feel like I'm trying so hard every day just to break even and it never seems like enough.
I told R that I knew he was probably frustrated with me for making zero progress over the past couple months. It's not his fault - I've been pretty impenetrable on the food/exercise issues. I realize it sucks, as a doctor, to prescribe medicine for a patient who won't take it but still shows up every week with the same complaints. Well, no shit you're still sick!
R was nicer than that. He said: "I'm not frustrated, Kaylee. I know you're trying. But if I let things go on this way much longer, then I'm just enabling your anorexia."
Happier news: I feel myself loosening way up in some food-related areas. I've been to three restaurants this week, went out for drinks at a bar after a full day's worth of food (yes, I'm legal!) on Thursday night, and ate a few gourmet chocolates with NO warning (a present from the boy, awwwww). No, I wasn't happy about the last-minute decision to go out for dinner last night; but yes, I ended up having an awesome Girls Night Out. Progress? I think so!
The semester is flying by. Why is it that a semester at school goes by in a heartbeat, while my semester at home seemed to last for an eternity?
I'll be better about blogging this week, I promise!
Even before the laptop fiasco though, I was being lazy about updating. I guess I'm a little worried about always rehashing the same things - therapy, food, restaurant stress, body image blahs, etc. All of the above are definitely still very relevant to my life, but I shouldn't assume that everyone always wants to hear me bitch and moan about them. Any ideas for more interesting posts?
Anyway, a quick recap of the last week: therapy was...interesting. And stressful. My dietician J showed me a graph of my weight since I started seeing her and R. Basically, it was a straight line. Meaning, obviously, my weight has not changed in the past eight or so weeks. While this wasn't surprising (I weigh myself at home), I did have mixed feelings about seeing it mapped out in black and white. The eating disordered part of me always wants to lose weight. Always. The ED part only cares about the graph - why isn't the line going down?
At the same time, though, there is so much more going on than what showed up on J's graph. I am way more happy, social, and sane than I was eight weeks ago. While I admittedly have not thrown myself wholeheartedly into weight gain, I have no plans to starve and lose any. I don't feel fat; I just don't feel thin. So, staying at the same weight doesn't necessarily feel wrong, even though I KNOW that I am underweight and should, from a medical standpoint, gain at least X pounds to get back to where I last got my period.
J and R, however, are quite concerned that I haven't put on any weight since starting treatment with them. Both tossed around the idea of IP a couple of times - more as a scare tactic than as an actual threat, I think - but they are still going to work with me as long as I am "willing." It bothers me that they see me as UNwilling, since I feel like I'm trying so hard every day just to break even and it never seems like enough.
I told R that I knew he was probably frustrated with me for making zero progress over the past couple months. It's not his fault - I've been pretty impenetrable on the food/exercise issues. I realize it sucks, as a doctor, to prescribe medicine for a patient who won't take it but still shows up every week with the same complaints. Well, no shit you're still sick!
R was nicer than that. He said: "I'm not frustrated, Kaylee. I know you're trying. But if I let things go on this way much longer, then I'm just enabling your anorexia."
Happier news: I feel myself loosening way up in some food-related areas. I've been to three restaurants this week, went out for drinks at a bar after a full day's worth of food (yes, I'm legal!) on Thursday night, and ate a few gourmet chocolates with NO warning (a present from the boy, awwwww). No, I wasn't happy about the last-minute decision to go out for dinner last night; but yes, I ended up having an awesome Girls Night Out. Progress? I think so!
The semester is flying by. Why is it that a semester at school goes by in a heartbeat, while my semester at home seemed to last for an eternity?
I'll be better about blogging this week, I promise!
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Monster Mood Swings
Sometimes my mood is so unstable it scares me. I can be fine in the morning, too busy to notice by afternoon, and ready to cry by dinner.
Like yesterday, for example: wake up, coffee, gym, shower, breakfast. All good. Class, lunch, and coffee/killing time with friends, which put me in a fantastic mood.
But then I walked home in a cold rain, my head hurt, my backpack was too heavy, and by the time I got to my apartment, I was practically in tears. No reason whatsoever, other than the fact that I was tired and everything seemed like too much.
Dinner became a nightmare because I was starving but didn't actually want anything. Option A wouldn't fill me up, Option B didn't sound good, and Option C just wasn't right. I just wanted to get it over with because I had a ton of reading to do, but decision-making was not happening. So I was hungry, exhausted, and basically falling apart at the seams.
Then my roommate came home, and a five-minute, completely mundane conversation with her brought me back to earth.
I know that part of it has got to be hormonal because it's back - right on schedule. My appetite is insane right now, leaving me empty and achy and worn out all the damn time. Combine that with cramps and bloating and a constant dull headache, and you haven't exactly got the makings of a happy camper.
Part of it is stress - I'm busy and worn out, but don't feel like I have a right to it because my class schedule right now is lighter than any other semester thus far. So I vacillate between anxiety over schoolwork, guilt about not doing "enough," and frustration at still feeling overwhelmed by a relatively underwhelming course load.
Part of it is also loneliness, because my apartment is not convenient to campus and I don't really live near a lot of friends I saw regularly last year. Usually I need my alone time, but lately I've just been too stuck in my own head. Sometimes I can't focus on anything because the whirl of worry is too strong for me to pull myself out of without external distractions.
My concentration is abysmal, my self-esteem is non-existent, and my anxiety levels are through the roof. I spend half my time running around in a manic half-hypoglycemic haze, and the other half collapsed in total body-numbing exhaustion. I lose track of my moods because they seem to change hourly. Just one day - one hour - of brain silence would be priceless.
I know this is the kind of thing I need to talk about with R, but it's hard to articulate. His priority is getting me to gain weight, but I quite honestly have zero desire to devote any more time and energy to food.
Like yesterday, for example: wake up, coffee, gym, shower, breakfast. All good. Class, lunch, and coffee/killing time with friends, which put me in a fantastic mood.
But then I walked home in a cold rain, my head hurt, my backpack was too heavy, and by the time I got to my apartment, I was practically in tears. No reason whatsoever, other than the fact that I was tired and everything seemed like too much.
Dinner became a nightmare because I was starving but didn't actually want anything. Option A wouldn't fill me up, Option B didn't sound good, and Option C just wasn't right. I just wanted to get it over with because I had a ton of reading to do, but decision-making was not happening. So I was hungry, exhausted, and basically falling apart at the seams.
Then my roommate came home, and a five-minute, completely mundane conversation with her brought me back to earth.
I know that part of it has got to be hormonal because it's back - right on schedule. My appetite is insane right now, leaving me empty and achy and worn out all the damn time. Combine that with cramps and bloating and a constant dull headache, and you haven't exactly got the makings of a happy camper.
Part of it is stress - I'm busy and worn out, but don't feel like I have a right to it because my class schedule right now is lighter than any other semester thus far. So I vacillate between anxiety over schoolwork, guilt about not doing "enough," and frustration at still feeling overwhelmed by a relatively underwhelming course load.
Part of it is also loneliness, because my apartment is not convenient to campus and I don't really live near a lot of friends I saw regularly last year. Usually I need my alone time, but lately I've just been too stuck in my own head. Sometimes I can't focus on anything because the whirl of worry is too strong for me to pull myself out of without external distractions.
My concentration is abysmal, my self-esteem is non-existent, and my anxiety levels are through the roof. I spend half my time running around in a manic half-hypoglycemic haze, and the other half collapsed in total body-numbing exhaustion. I lose track of my moods because they seem to change hourly. Just one day - one hour - of brain silence would be priceless.
I know this is the kind of thing I need to talk about with R, but it's hard to articulate. His priority is getting me to gain weight, but I quite honestly have zero desire to devote any more time and energy to food.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Relief and Running
Crazy busy last week/weekend. I just handed in the last of three BIG papers that I've been working on for the past two weeks or so, and feeling a slight sense of relief about finally getting those finished. For some reason this semester, school stuff just isn't coming as easily as in the past, and it feels like I'm struggling so much more to accomplish the same amount of work.
My job, however, is going really well. Without getting too specific: I get to do lots of issue-related research and interviews with various academics and professionals. For the first time in a while, I find myself getting totally engrossed in projects and forgetting about the millions of other things that are usually weighing on my mind. Like weight.
I've recently started running again after taking time off for a hip injury this summer. It hurt a little at the beginning, but has settled down since then. Maybe this isn't a good thing from a recovery standpoint, but getting back into running feels beyond wonderful. I'm being really careful to take it slow, not do too much all at once, and mix it up with intervals of walking, but still, wow. It feels so good.
Admittedly, my caution has more to do with a fear of re-injuring my hip than it does with a fear of falling back into anorexia, but the ends justify the means, right? And running just makes me feel so much stronger, so much more exhilarated, than any other kind of exercise. So I am satisfied with doing less of it than I would be with, say, biking.
In semi-related news, my metabolism has been freaking out lately. Eating makes me hungrier. Is this possible? I swear, within thirty minutes of finishing a meal, my stomach starts growling. You'd think extreme hunger would make meal plan compliance easier, but mostly it's just irritating.
Although, it is making me wonder about intuitive eating a bit - like, what would happen if I just ate when my body said FEED ME? The idea intrigues me, but I honestly don't think it's possible at the moment. I am way too aware of calories to ditch the counting habit, and as long as the tally is going in my head, I wouldn't be able to choose foods without calories being the main consideration. So, maybe something to think about in the future.
....and my neighbors just brought out the bass and amps. I'm off to go pound on the wall.
My job, however, is going really well. Without getting too specific: I get to do lots of issue-related research and interviews with various academics and professionals. For the first time in a while, I find myself getting totally engrossed in projects and forgetting about the millions of other things that are usually weighing on my mind. Like weight.
I've recently started running again after taking time off for a hip injury this summer. It hurt a little at the beginning, but has settled down since then. Maybe this isn't a good thing from a recovery standpoint, but getting back into running feels beyond wonderful. I'm being really careful to take it slow, not do too much all at once, and mix it up with intervals of walking, but still, wow. It feels so good.
Admittedly, my caution has more to do with a fear of re-injuring my hip than it does with a fear of falling back into anorexia, but the ends justify the means, right? And running just makes me feel so much stronger, so much more exhilarated, than any other kind of exercise. So I am satisfied with doing less of it than I would be with, say, biking.
In semi-related news, my metabolism has been freaking out lately. Eating makes me hungrier. Is this possible? I swear, within thirty minutes of finishing a meal, my stomach starts growling. You'd think extreme hunger would make meal plan compliance easier, but mostly it's just irritating.
Although, it is making me wonder about intuitive eating a bit - like, what would happen if I just ate when my body said FEED ME? The idea intrigues me, but I honestly don't think it's possible at the moment. I am way too aware of calories to ditch the counting habit, and as long as the tally is going in my head, I wouldn't be able to choose foods without calories being the main consideration. So, maybe something to think about in the future.
....and my neighbors just brought out the bass and amps. I'm off to go pound on the wall.
Friday, October 14, 2011
More or Less
Lately I've been thinking a lot about where I was a year ago. Getting competitive with myself, I guess. Compared to last year, I now weigh more. I eat more. I know more about myself - what my limits are.
I also cry more. I worry more.
Last year, I had more fun. I liked myself more. I laughed more. I took more classes. I was involved in more clubs and activities. I was more productive. I put myself right in the thick of things until my low heart rate put me in the hospital. Until then, anorexia hadn't taken me out of commission whatsoever - and I feel like recovery has.
I'm better off now - I know that. But there's more anxiety, more stress, and more self-consciousness. Everything makes me nervous. Part of me wants to go back.
My confidence is just shot. I feel like I can't do the same things I used to be able to do. I used to zip through my reading each night, grind out papers, sail through exams, raise my hand in every class, and still go out every weekend and have a fantastic time.
But now? Now I can't concentrate on a textbook for more than five minutes at a time before I start picking my nails and jiggling my leg and counting calories in my head. Essays take me forever to finish; the ideas just aren't there. In class, my mind starts spinning and it feels like everyone else is three steps ahead of me. I got a B on an exam that I was positive I aced. (Yes, I know I won't get much sympathy for that. But it still bothers me.) I am so fucking uncomfortable in my body that sometimes being around my friends - even the best ones - makes my skin crawl.
My mom has gotten more than a couple distressed calls from me. I freak out randomly about things that do not deserve my attention. I hate hate HATE how I look. As if it even matters.
After almost nine months of treatment, I feel like there's less of me in me, even though there's supposed to be less of the anorexia. What gives?
I am, however, finding that I have more intense friendships. I rarely go out with a big group anymore, but I go out with one person, or two, and feel more alive afterwards. Last weekend, one of my best - and first, actually - friends here took me to dinner. We couldn't get a table for an hour, so we walked around the neighborhood, just talking. Then we spent two hours in the restaurant, talking. Then he took me home and we talked some more.
So, maybe less fun, but more memorable? Less adolescent, more adult? Less exciting, more important? Sometimes it's just so hard to accept that I can't be who I was before. I was manically productive and my days were jam-packed with a million things I couldn't wait to do - but I was sick. So I can't be that anymore, and I'm not sure where to go from here.
I also cry more. I worry more.
Last year, I had more fun. I liked myself more. I laughed more. I took more classes. I was involved in more clubs and activities. I was more productive. I put myself right in the thick of things until my low heart rate put me in the hospital. Until then, anorexia hadn't taken me out of commission whatsoever - and I feel like recovery has.
I'm better off now - I know that. But there's more anxiety, more stress, and more self-consciousness. Everything makes me nervous. Part of me wants to go back.
My confidence is just shot. I feel like I can't do the same things I used to be able to do. I used to zip through my reading each night, grind out papers, sail through exams, raise my hand in every class, and still go out every weekend and have a fantastic time.
But now? Now I can't concentrate on a textbook for more than five minutes at a time before I start picking my nails and jiggling my leg and counting calories in my head. Essays take me forever to finish; the ideas just aren't there. In class, my mind starts spinning and it feels like everyone else is three steps ahead of me. I got a B on an exam that I was positive I aced. (Yes, I know I won't get much sympathy for that. But it still bothers me.) I am so fucking uncomfortable in my body that sometimes being around my friends - even the best ones - makes my skin crawl.
My mom has gotten more than a couple distressed calls from me. I freak out randomly about things that do not deserve my attention. I hate hate HATE how I look. As if it even matters.
After almost nine months of treatment, I feel like there's less of me in me, even though there's supposed to be less of the anorexia. What gives?
I am, however, finding that I have more intense friendships. I rarely go out with a big group anymore, but I go out with one person, or two, and feel more alive afterwards. Last weekend, one of my best - and first, actually - friends here took me to dinner. We couldn't get a table for an hour, so we walked around the neighborhood, just talking. Then we spent two hours in the restaurant, talking. Then he took me home and we talked some more.
So, maybe less fun, but more memorable? Less adolescent, more adult? Less exciting, more important? Sometimes it's just so hard to accept that I can't be who I was before. I was manically productive and my days were jam-packed with a million things I couldn't wait to do - but I was sick. So I can't be that anymore, and I'm not sure where to go from here.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Settling In
I, for one, am glad that September is over. It's a month of too many changes. And while most of them were good this year (starting my junior year of college after taking a semester off, moving into a new apartment, being back on my own after living with my parents for eight months), the instability of the transitional period left me constantly anxious and on edge.
Now, I'm feeling much more settled. I'm used to my apartment, my roommates, my walking routes, and my classes. I have my daily routines. My anxiety levels have been toned down by orders of magnitude from where they were a couple of weeks ago. Now, my biggest anxieties are school-related, which oddly, I am much better equipped to handle than the little things like running out of yogurt or losing my umbrella on a rainy day or forgetting to do laundry on my one free afternoon. That stuff practically sends me into hysterics.
I am also getting used to R, my new therapist. At first, I was hesitant to see him because he is, you know, a dude, But I'm way more comfortable with him now after only three or four sessions. I really like R's personality and approach. We are still at a bit of a stalemate over the Weight Issue, but I'll get there. I think.
Lately I've been spending a ton of time with my roommate K (same one I visited back in June), and realizing how much better life is with such a good friend. Even though I am incredibly independent and need my alone time to function, I had forgotten how much easier life is with friends. I have been sloooowly opening up to K about the ED, which is big for me. For the longest time, I only ever discussed the anorexia with professionals - e.g. therapist, dietician, doctor. In some ways, that's easier because they are already familiar with the symptoms and don't need to be educated. Real people don't always get it. But when I talk to K about it, she seems genuinely interested in trying to understand my mindset and learn what is helpful/not helpful for me.
Food is more of the same. I really do want to do better because I've been noticing that my energy is definitely down. At times, I find myself slipping into that slightly manic must-eat-now state that only happens when I'm restricting. If I am consistently eating enough to sustain myself, I can hold out for longer and not dissolve into a shaky hypoglycemic panic if lunch gets delayed by an hour. Even though I haven't really lost any weight in the last couple of weeks, I think the recent loss combined with the lower intake (not scary low, just lower than R would like) is starting to take its toll. So I am motivated to turn things around NOW while my brain and heart and metabolism still have a fighting chance.
Okay, gotta get moving. I've got a 14-page paper and two 10-pagers due this week, plus a presentation and a big project for work. Peace!
Now, I'm feeling much more settled. I'm used to my apartment, my roommates, my walking routes, and my classes. I have my daily routines. My anxiety levels have been toned down by orders of magnitude from where they were a couple of weeks ago. Now, my biggest anxieties are school-related, which oddly, I am much better equipped to handle than the little things like running out of yogurt or losing my umbrella on a rainy day or forgetting to do laundry on my one free afternoon. That stuff practically sends me into hysterics.
I am also getting used to R, my new therapist. At first, I was hesitant to see him because he is, you know, a dude, But I'm way more comfortable with him now after only three or four sessions. I really like R's personality and approach. We are still at a bit of a stalemate over the Weight Issue, but I'll get there. I think.
Lately I've been spending a ton of time with my roommate K (same one I visited back in June), and realizing how much better life is with such a good friend. Even though I am incredibly independent and need my alone time to function, I had forgotten how much easier life is with friends. I have been sloooowly opening up to K about the ED, which is big for me. For the longest time, I only ever discussed the anorexia with professionals - e.g. therapist, dietician, doctor. In some ways, that's easier because they are already familiar with the symptoms and don't need to be educated. Real people don't always get it. But when I talk to K about it, she seems genuinely interested in trying to understand my mindset and learn what is helpful/not helpful for me.
Food is more of the same. I really do want to do better because I've been noticing that my energy is definitely down. At times, I find myself slipping into that slightly manic must-eat-now state that only happens when I'm restricting. If I am consistently eating enough to sustain myself, I can hold out for longer and not dissolve into a shaky hypoglycemic panic if lunch gets delayed by an hour. Even though I haven't really lost any weight in the last couple of weeks, I think the recent loss combined with the lower intake (not scary low, just lower than R would like) is starting to take its toll. So I am motivated to turn things around NOW while my brain and heart and metabolism still have a fighting chance.
Okay, gotta get moving. I've got a 14-page paper and two 10-pagers due this week, plus a presentation and a big project for work. Peace!
Sunday, September 18, 2011
The Rundown
So sorry for the lack of updates. There's not much going on beyond what I've already talked about. I'm hanging in there with eating, trying to stay on track as much as possible. I think my weight is pretty stable but I haven't really been keeping close tabs on it. You would think this is a good sign - that I'm less obsessive about weighing myself at EXACTLY the same time every morning like I usually do - but I historically get less rigid about the weighing ritual as my eating deteriorates. When the anorexia was at its worst last year, I barely ever weighed myself, even though we had a scale sitting right there in the bathroom. I was vaguely aware of my weight, as in I would hop on the scale every once in a while and register the number with a brief huh, that's lower than last time, and go on with my day. It's sort of similar now, except that my eating is way better than it was then and I'm still as nervous as ever for my weekly weigh-in with R. So, I'm not sure what to make of that observation.
In other news, I'm having a really good time with my friends and getting wrapped up in classes and schoolwork again. For the sake of my sanity, I HAVE to stay fairly busy, but it's a fine line between healthy-productive-busy and stressful-panic-self-destructing-busy. Lately I've been toeing that line, trying to figure out exactly where it lies. Schoolwork is starting to pick up, as are various club/research/work activities, and I'm trying to resist the urge to take on a million projects and throw myself into everything headfirst without first consulting my responsible, moderate, reasonable side.
I really hope my last post didn't come across as all doom and gloom, because I really am happy to be here and trying so hard to make it work. I don't think I was ever under any illusions that this would be easy, but the reality of it has still taken some getting used to.
Things I'm happy about:
1) My wonderful, compassionate, brilliant, endlessly supportive and understanding roommate.
2) My mom. We've been talking on the phone almost every day. I know she's super worried about me, and she is doing an amazing job of being available without prying.
3) Therapy. I really like R a lot, and I'm almost looking forward to seeing him this week. I feel like he is very purposeful during our sessions and sets a clear agenda and goal, whereas my old therapist W just sort of asked questions and listened to me ramble before moving on. So I'm thinking R is definitely an improvement and I could make some real progress with him. If only I didn't have to get weighed.
4) The delicious sushi I just ate for dinner. I was feeling fat and gross and really wasn't up to facing a restaurant, but my friends wanted to go and we ended up having a great time. Why don't I learn from these experiences?
Things I'm worried/stressed about
1) Schoolwork, exams, too much reading, blah blah blah.
2) The paper-thin walls of my apartment. Seriously, I can hear my neighbor snoring from the next unit.
3) Therapy. Like I said, I really like R a lot, but I HATE getting weighed. Last time he gave me to option of having blind weights, which I'm still undecided on. I have my own scale so I could theoretically check my weight anytime I wanted, but maybe having the blind weights with R will reduce some anxiety about my appointments so I can focus on the therapy part and not the weighing part.
4) Not having time to get to a grocery store. My food supply is majorly depleted. There are places on campus where I could eat, but not everything is Kaylee-friendly.
I think that's all for now!
In other news, I'm having a really good time with my friends and getting wrapped up in classes and schoolwork again. For the sake of my sanity, I HAVE to stay fairly busy, but it's a fine line between healthy-productive-busy and stressful-panic-self-destructing-busy. Lately I've been toeing that line, trying to figure out exactly where it lies. Schoolwork is starting to pick up, as are various club/research/work activities, and I'm trying to resist the urge to take on a million projects and throw myself into everything headfirst without first consulting my responsible, moderate, reasonable side.
I really hope my last post didn't come across as all doom and gloom, because I really am happy to be here and trying so hard to make it work. I don't think I was ever under any illusions that this would be easy, but the reality of it has still taken some getting used to.
Things I'm happy about:
1) My wonderful, compassionate, brilliant, endlessly supportive and understanding roommate.
2) My mom. We've been talking on the phone almost every day. I know she's super worried about me, and she is doing an amazing job of being available without prying.
3) Therapy. I really like R a lot, and I'm almost looking forward to seeing him this week. I feel like he is very purposeful during our sessions and sets a clear agenda and goal, whereas my old therapist W just sort of asked questions and listened to me ramble before moving on. So I'm thinking R is definitely an improvement and I could make some real progress with him. If only I didn't have to get weighed.
4) The delicious sushi I just ate for dinner. I was feeling fat and gross and really wasn't up to facing a restaurant, but my friends wanted to go and we ended up having a great time. Why don't I learn from these experiences?
Things I'm worried/stressed about
1) Schoolwork, exams, too much reading, blah blah blah.
2) The paper-thin walls of my apartment. Seriously, I can hear my neighbor snoring from the next unit.
3) Therapy. Like I said, I really like R a lot, but I HATE getting weighed. Last time he gave me to option of having blind weights, which I'm still undecided on. I have my own scale so I could theoretically check my weight anytime I wanted, but maybe having the blind weights with R will reduce some anxiety about my appointments so I can focus on the therapy part and not the weighing part.
4) Not having time to get to a grocery store. My food supply is majorly depleted. There are places on campus where I could eat, but not everything is Kaylee-friendly.
I think that's all for now!
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
When the Going Gets Rough
I hate using this blog as a whine fest but things have been a teeeeeeeeensy bit rough lately. I guess I started restricting during the chaotic travel/move-in/general transition period with the mindset that it was "just temporary" and "just to be safe" from all the unpredictability and that I would "go back to normal" once I settled into a routine.
Well, basically I kinda sorta maybe just settled into the routine of restricting. Not horribly, but some. I'm not starving and I'm not dying. Just teetering a little. It's hard to keep perspective about it because the last time I was in this environment, I was so much worse. If the Kaylee of 2010 could see what the Kaylee of 2011 eats, she'd have a heart attack. Not from malnourishment - from shock. (Maybe a little bit from malnourishment.)
I guess I just thought that being back in college would make everything easier and it's not. I think I expected that the excitement of having a life again would carry me and I'd sail through recovery. Oh hey Friend, you wanna go out to eat? No problem! I can do that now! Food rocks! Now I can almost see how staying on track at home was way simpler because I was so isolated. I mean, it sucked, but I could mope and moan and groan my way through weight gain without having to participate in real life too. Real life is complicated.
When I saw R for my second appointment yesterday, he said again that he definitely wants me to gain at least another XX pounds. Last time he told me this, I said okay. This time - well, I didn't outright refuse, but I left R's office with absolutely zero intention whatsoever of following through.
I had a hard time articulating my thinking to R when we were talking. My weight was down a little from where it was last Wednesday, but the difference was small enough that I assumed he would attribute it to normal fluctuations. Instead, he made a really big deal about it and said: "I think we can safely assume that you're losing weight." Basically, I told him the truth: that I'm not trying to lose weight, but I'm not doing much to keep it on either, much less gain any. He asked me to keep food records this week, but I'm scared to. I don't want him to tell me to eat more because I feel like I'm eating just fine, dammit. Or maybe it's not totally fine, but I don't care because I don't want to eat more and I don't want to gain weight.
The biggest problem is that none of this feels like a problem. I'm not dead on my feet from exhaustion. I'm not at a dangerous weight. I'm not even skinny. I'm fine. I don't know how to express to anyone that the issue is not that I don't know how to gain weight. I do. Gaining weight is very simple. The issue is that my mind is not okay with gaining weight. R can tell me to pack my extra Clif bar, but if I've already decided that I'm not okay with eating it, well, then, I'm not going to eat it.
I hope this doesn't sound like I'm being purposely stubborn and difficult. Nothing bugs me more than feeling like an obstinate brat around the people who are trying to help me, but this really is how my mind works. Once I've decided something (e.g. I can only eat X calories today) then that is what I do. Period. If you offer me a bite of your cookie, I will say no. If the store is out of bananas, I will go to another store. I am not flexible and I do not adapt.
My motivation is still there, but it's shifting. I'm definitely motivated to stay in school, which is contingent on me being healthy. So I'm motivated to being healthy, but I'm also motivated to not hate myself, and I don't always have healthy ways to accomplish that. And I can't help it that when I go into the student center bathroom and catch sight of myself in the full length mirror (that was NOT there last year!), I get so disgusted with myself that all I want to do is throw out my lunch and run for hours.
Well, basically I kinda sorta maybe just settled into the routine of restricting. Not horribly, but some. I'm not starving and I'm not dying. Just teetering a little. It's hard to keep perspective about it because the last time I was in this environment, I was so much worse. If the Kaylee of 2010 could see what the Kaylee of 2011 eats, she'd have a heart attack. Not from malnourishment - from shock. (Maybe a little bit from malnourishment.)
I guess I just thought that being back in college would make everything easier and it's not. I think I expected that the excitement of having a life again would carry me and I'd sail through recovery. Oh hey Friend, you wanna go out to eat? No problem! I can do that now! Food rocks! Now I can almost see how staying on track at home was way simpler because I was so isolated. I mean, it sucked, but I could mope and moan and groan my way through weight gain without having to participate in real life too. Real life is complicated.
When I saw R for my second appointment yesterday, he said again that he definitely wants me to gain at least another XX pounds. Last time he told me this, I said okay. This time - well, I didn't outright refuse, but I left R's office with absolutely zero intention whatsoever of following through.
I had a hard time articulating my thinking to R when we were talking. My weight was down a little from where it was last Wednesday, but the difference was small enough that I assumed he would attribute it to normal fluctuations. Instead, he made a really big deal about it and said: "I think we can safely assume that you're losing weight." Basically, I told him the truth: that I'm not trying to lose weight, but I'm not doing much to keep it on either, much less gain any. He asked me to keep food records this week, but I'm scared to. I don't want him to tell me to eat more because I feel like I'm eating just fine, dammit. Or maybe it's not totally fine, but I don't care because I don't want to eat more and I don't want to gain weight.
The biggest problem is that none of this feels like a problem. I'm not dead on my feet from exhaustion. I'm not at a dangerous weight. I'm not even skinny. I'm fine. I don't know how to express to anyone that the issue is not that I don't know how to gain weight. I do. Gaining weight is very simple. The issue is that my mind is not okay with gaining weight. R can tell me to pack my extra Clif bar, but if I've already decided that I'm not okay with eating it, well, then, I'm not going to eat it.
I hope this doesn't sound like I'm being purposely stubborn and difficult. Nothing bugs me more than feeling like an obstinate brat around the people who are trying to help me, but this really is how my mind works. Once I've decided something (e.g. I can only eat X calories today) then that is what I do. Period. If you offer me a bite of your cookie, I will say no. If the store is out of bananas, I will go to another store. I am not flexible and I do not adapt.
My motivation is still there, but it's shifting. I'm definitely motivated to stay in school, which is contingent on me being healthy. So I'm motivated to being healthy, but I'm also motivated to not hate myself, and I don't always have healthy ways to accomplish that. And I can't help it that when I go into the student center bathroom and catch sight of myself in the full length mirror (that was NOT there last year!), I get so disgusted with myself that all I want to do is throw out my lunch and run for hours.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Back to Life
Suddenly, I have a life again. I am taking classes, going to restaurants, highlighting textbooks, and staying out late. The transition back to college has definitely been hard, but I think I'm finally making it. I feel so much more connected and real and alive. Today when I was walking back from the gym in the most fantastic sunshine I've ever seen, I thought: I might actually be happy right now.
My classes are amazing. I love them all. I'm so thrilled to be back in an academic setting, to be engaged and stimulated and excited. Every morning, I am genuinely happy to get out of bed and start my day. I will never take this feeling for granted again.
That's not to say everything has been perfect. I spent much of last weekend feeling hugely insecure and fat and gross and lonely. What if no one even remembered me? What if everyone hated me for disappearing last semester without warning? How would I explain myself? Pushing myself to reach out to my old friends and initiate social contact involved a lot of freaking out and anxiety and omgwhatifIhavenofriends? But then, you know what? I just did it. And it has been so worth it. On Friday night, one of my best friends since freshman year gave me a huge hug and said, "Kaylee, I'm so happy you're back!" I wish I could express to her how freaking amazing that made me feel.
Eating has been so-so. Honestly, I'm really busy, and food isn't on my mind 24/7 anymore. It just isn't. I'm not trying to lose weight, but I'm not really trying to not lose weight either, if that makes sense. I'm finding myself eating less by accident, realizing it after the fact, but then still lacking the healthy perspective to add a snack and make up the difference. Part of me is screaming I'm fine! I ate less yesterday and I was fine! I don't NEED all that food. It's also hard to put my calories in context, because I've been working out much less here than I did all spring and summer at home, but now I am walking constantly, climbing stairs, and lugging a backpack full of books all over campus. So, do I need more or less food? The same? Different food? The thought of trying to quantify calories in/out makes my head spin. I find myself cutting corners here and there, just to "be safe."
The results: I'm down a couple of pounds, totally unintentionally, but I can't say I'm upset about it. This worries me a bit, but my weight really isn't forefront in my mind at the moment. I just feel like...I don't know, like I can't be bothered. I'm not actively trying to eat less, but I find that to be my default setting and I'm getting lazy about challenging it.
This isn't a very cohesive or exciting update, but I've got lots of reading to do and a paper (already!) to write. Have I mentioned that I LOVE being back at school? I know the stress will hit soon, but for now I'm working to stay balanced, calm, and really make the most of getting another chance without running myself into the ground. I've stayed out super late for three of the past four nights, so I'm aiming to make tonight an early one.
The results: I'm down a couple of pounds, totally unintentionally, but I can't say I'm upset about it. This worries me a bit, but my weight really isn't forefront in my mind at the moment. I just feel like...I don't know, like I can't be bothered. I'm not actively trying to eat less, but I find that to be my default setting and I'm getting lazy about challenging it.
This isn't a very cohesive or exciting update, but I've got lots of reading to do and a paper (already!) to write. Have I mentioned that I LOVE being back at school? I know the stress will hit soon, but for now I'm working to stay balanced, calm, and really make the most of getting another chance without running myself into the ground. I've stayed out super late for three of the past four nights, so I'm aiming to make tonight an early one.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
A College Update
Being back at school is weird in so many ways, but one of the weirdest parts is that it almost feels like I never left. Same crew of friends, same set-up in my bedroom, same furniture. Then my stomach growls at lunchtime and I remember that I eat meals now. Or I look down and remember that I was skinnier before.
The hardest thing is running into people I haven't seen since January. Obviously, I am heavier than I was then. It is noticeable. So I imagine people gawking, trying to hide their shock/disgust/omg look how fat she got over the summer! I am fully aware that not everyone is as obsessed with my weight as I am, but still. It's not like people won't notice. So that's hard.
It's also a little lonely. I've spent so many months wrapped up in my own obsessions and insecurities, finally coming to terms with gaining weight and eating well - now, I realize that life has gone on. I feel like the whole world has been turned upside down, and no one even seems to notice. No one quite realizes how fucking hard it is to navigate Move-In Weekend with all the restaurant meals and lack of gym time and general unpredictability when all you can think about is food and weight and calories, and you are counting and recounting and recounting. It was easier when I was restricting because the landscape was simple: eat as little as possible. All the time. Endure the obligatory meals out, then make up for it as soon as possible. But now, I don't know what the end goal is anymore. I want to maintain my weight. I want to lose weight. I want to eat. I don't.
On a brighter note, my apartment is beautiful. We have a full kitchen this year, which I think will make staying on track much, much easier. Last year (my sophomore), the switch from home-eating during the summer to school-eating in the fall threw me for a loop. I was already teetering on the edge of a pretty big cliff last summer in terms of eating and exercise, and I think the unpredictability of cafeteria food was too much for me and really sent my eating disorder spiraling out of control.
Other things that are stressing me out:
- My new apartment is quite far from the campus fitness center, meaning it will take me about 45 min roundtrip to walk there, plus the workout time. This is a much larger chunk of time than I have ever had to devote to exercise - the gym at home is literally two minutes from my house. So I either have to cut down on my workout, or cut down on other things to make time for working out.
- My schedule is still up in the air. I met with my advisor today about what I need to do to graduate on time (which is hopefully the goal), but I left feeling even more conflicted and confused about which courses I should take now and which ones I should save for next semester.
- I haven't weighed myself since getting here, and I'm worried out about having put on tons and tons of weight in the past three days. My stomach feels bloated and my rings are tight, so I'm afraid to step on the scale and see the damage. Logically, I know I'm probably retaining water from all the salty restaurant meals and it isn't real weight, but I'm shaky enough that seeing an elevated number will freak me the hell out.
The ED clinic in College City couldn't fit me in for an appointment for another week and a half, so I'm trying to police myself until then. Periods of limbo are super hard for me, and I really want to stay on track this week and next until I restart therapy.
Hope everyone stayed safe from Irene!
The hardest thing is running into people I haven't seen since January. Obviously, I am heavier than I was then. It is noticeable. So I imagine people gawking, trying to hide their shock/disgust/omg look how fat she got over the summer! I am fully aware that not everyone is as obsessed with my weight as I am, but still. It's not like people won't notice. So that's hard.
It's also a little lonely. I've spent so many months wrapped up in my own obsessions and insecurities, finally coming to terms with gaining weight and eating well - now, I realize that life has gone on. I feel like the whole world has been turned upside down, and no one even seems to notice. No one quite realizes how fucking hard it is to navigate Move-In Weekend with all the restaurant meals and lack of gym time and general unpredictability when all you can think about is food and weight and calories, and you are counting and recounting and recounting. It was easier when I was restricting because the landscape was simple: eat as little as possible. All the time. Endure the obligatory meals out, then make up for it as soon as possible. But now, I don't know what the end goal is anymore. I want to maintain my weight. I want to lose weight. I want to eat. I don't.
On a brighter note, my apartment is beautiful. We have a full kitchen this year, which I think will make staying on track much, much easier. Last year (my sophomore), the switch from home-eating during the summer to school-eating in the fall threw me for a loop. I was already teetering on the edge of a pretty big cliff last summer in terms of eating and exercise, and I think the unpredictability of cafeteria food was too much for me and really sent my eating disorder spiraling out of control.
Other things that are stressing me out:
- My new apartment is quite far from the campus fitness center, meaning it will take me about 45 min roundtrip to walk there, plus the workout time. This is a much larger chunk of time than I have ever had to devote to exercise - the gym at home is literally two minutes from my house. So I either have to cut down on my workout, or cut down on other things to make time for working out.
- My schedule is still up in the air. I met with my advisor today about what I need to do to graduate on time (which is hopefully the goal), but I left feeling even more conflicted and confused about which courses I should take now and which ones I should save for next semester.
- I haven't weighed myself since getting here, and I'm worried out about having put on tons and tons of weight in the past three days. My stomach feels bloated and my rings are tight, so I'm afraid to step on the scale and see the damage. Logically, I know I'm probably retaining water from all the salty restaurant meals and it isn't real weight, but I'm shaky enough that seeing an elevated number will freak me the hell out.
The ED clinic in College City couldn't fit me in for an appointment for another week and a half, so I'm trying to police myself until then. Periods of limbo are super hard for me, and I really want to stay on track this week and next until I restart therapy.
Hope everyone stayed safe from Irene!
Friday, June 24, 2011
Me, Now
I officially entered treatment for anorexia in December, although I had been dabbling in eating disordered behaviors for at least eight years. I went through a period of extreme restriction and weight loss at age thirteen when I was very sick and probably should have been hospitalized, but I dodged that bullet. Mostly because I was too smart and sneaky for my own good, but also because my parents (and I) preferred to avoid drama at all costs. So, a few weight checks with my mom, a stern talking-to from my pediatrician, and that was pretty much it. I gained a bit of weight back, problem solved.
Then I had a major relapse this past year as a sophomore in college. While I had been playing around with restriction again for most of my freshman year, enough alcohol and late-night junk food runs kept me social, sane, and at a decent weight despite a pretty anorexic mindset. By the end of the following summer, though, I was determined to lose weight and it went downhill from there. By November 2010, I hit my all-time lowest weight (a little under where I was at age thirteen). When I came home for Thanksgiving, my mom freaked out and started calling doctors. I headed back to school to finish out the semester with instructions from her to get through my exams and, basically, not die.
I maintained my weight through Christmas, started seeing a nutritionist and a therapist at home, and headed back to school in January armed with a brand new diagnosis and a massive meal plan. Within a week, though, I was back to my old workout routine and restricting patterns. Then the blackouts/dizziness/heart flutters started happening and scared me enough to call my mom. She convinced me over the phone to see a doctor on campus who did an EKG and bunch of blood tests, freaked out, and just like that I was on a plane back home.
My life since January has been a blur of doctors visits, scales, food, and intense loneliness. I have battled horrible body image, screaming/bitching/crying fights with my parents, and seemingly endless food and weight gain. In a few short months, I have isolated myself more than I ever thought possible. Now, faced with the possibility of reemerging into life again, I feel like I might be starting to dig myself out.
Then I had a major relapse this past year as a sophomore in college. While I had been playing around with restriction again for most of my freshman year, enough alcohol and late-night junk food runs kept me social, sane, and at a decent weight despite a pretty anorexic mindset. By the end of the following summer, though, I was determined to lose weight and it went downhill from there. By November 2010, I hit my all-time lowest weight (a little under where I was at age thirteen). When I came home for Thanksgiving, my mom freaked out and started calling doctors. I headed back to school to finish out the semester with instructions from her to get through my exams and, basically, not die.
I maintained my weight through Christmas, started seeing a nutritionist and a therapist at home, and headed back to school in January armed with a brand new diagnosis and a massive meal plan. Within a week, though, I was back to my old workout routine and restricting patterns. Then the blackouts/dizziness/heart flutters started happening and scared me enough to call my mom. She convinced me over the phone to see a doctor on campus who did an EKG and bunch of blood tests, freaked out, and just like that I was on a plane back home.
My life since January has been a blur of doctors visits, scales, food, and intense loneliness. I have battled horrible body image, screaming/bitching/crying fights with my parents, and seemingly endless food and weight gain. In a few short months, I have isolated myself more than I ever thought possible. Now, faced with the possibility of reemerging into life again, I feel like I might be starting to dig myself out.
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