Honesty Homework

One of the goals R set for me this week was to tell my roommate that I'm struggling with my eating disorder and ask her to eat more regularly with me. This wouldn't be that big of a deal - my eating disorder isn't a secret and we've talked about it before - except that I feel like it would draw SO MUCH unwanted attention. Seriously, there's no better way to kill my appetite than to scrutinize my eating habits. It makes me want to take my plate into the next room and scrape off all the food into the garbage can.

R is convinced that if I make my friends aware I'm struggling to eat enough, it will keep me accountable and reduce my anxiety about the increased intake and weight gain.

I'm convinced that if my eating is suddenly under the microscope, I'll freak out, have a nervous breakdown, and lose my mind. And somehow, inexplicably, get fat in the process.

Either way, R is probably right that I should try to eat with others more often - but easier said than done. I still have major anxiety about eating around other people because I worry about: a) looking weird, b) eating too much and getting fat, c) not eating enough and getting hungry again five minutes later. So yes, eating my own food in my own kitchen is much simpler.

I did manage to shake things up this weekend though - in fact, I ate in restaurants twice (yeah, TWICE). People, this is big. I hate restaurants. Or at least my eating disordered-self does. This actually is a good gauge of healthy-Kaylee versus ED-Kaylee because I used to love going out to eat. Not just for the food, although I liked that too, but for the whole festiveness of the occasion. Now? Not so much. Break in routine, unpredictability, unknown calories, etc. - all the usual suspects. So this weekend was an exercise in both social eating AND quitting the counting habit.

Anyway, back to R's assignment: I sort of indirectly brought it up with my roommate last night, just mentioning that things have been a little stressful because I am "supposed" to be eating much more than I am physically or mentally comfortable with. No mention of specific foods or meal plan requirements or the case of Boost stashed under my bed.

So...I guess I partly completed the exercise? For some reason, I don't think R will be totally satisfied with my half-hearted attempt. I didn't exactly mobilize the Food Police the way he seems to want. I just hate making my eating disorder an issue with others. Mostly, I hate the prospect of being forced out of my comfort zone. Call me stubborn.

On the plus side, I actually DID buy the Boost.

Trying for Variety

Variety eludes me. For the most part, I eat the same things at the same times every day. I hate choosing foods and creating meals because I'm afraid of eating the wrong thing. I never know how to pick foods - do I base it on calories? Taste? Size? What looks good? What sounds good? I could spend an hour standing in front of the refrigerator trying to figure out the perfect thing to eat.

I go through phases of eating the same foods multiple times a day, and phases when I am super picky about not repeating meals, but I always stick to the same relatively small array of acceptable choices. Even when I'm eating plenty of calories, I get stuck in ruts where I have peanut butter sandwiches twice a day, just to avoid having to make any real decisions.

I guess I never really think about it much beyond this is what I eat because this is what I eat. For the past week, however, I've been keeping food records to bring to my first appointment with the new dietician tomorrow. I am suddenly very aware of how limited my repertoire of meals and snacks really is. Sometimes I make vague attempts to be balanced, like adjusting a snack to include an apple because I haven't had much fruit that day, but calories are still always the first consideration in any food-related decision. Basically, I eat to fill a certain calorie quota and don't really worry too much about the ratios of proteins to carbs to fats. Definitely not the healthiest way to go. I KNOW.

My dietician from home, B, tried hard to get me to expand my list of acceptable foods over the summer. She said something in one of our last appointments that stuck with me:

"Variety is important so you get all of the nutrients in foods - the nutrients we know about and the ones we don't."

Normally I hate uncertainties - I want to know exactly what's in my food, dammit - but B's comment helped me reframe the variety issue. It's not just about checking off boxes on my meal plan. It's about exploring and experimenting. Letting my body learn and adjust. Not living in a vacuum.

Easier said than done, obviously, since I haven't really expanded my menu much. I don't consciously cut foods out of my diet, but I tend to gravitate towards the same few "safe" foods because I know that I like them, they'll fill me up, and nothing bad will happen from consuming them. If presented with a new meal option containing the same amount of calories, I would still choose my safe meal every time. I don't really know why, other than the comfort of familiarity.

But now I'm trying to think in terms of what I'm missing. Yes, I could eat sufficient calories on my limited meal rotation, but what if that meant I would never consume any trace of some unknown nutrient? What if I never gave myself a chance to benefit from it because I was too busy being safe?

Goal of the week: try something new. Anything.

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.

Hips, Hunger, and Half the Sky

I finally saw the orthopedist for my hip, which was a huge relief.  No stress fracture (which I was secretly afraid of, thanks to my old lady bones).  Apparently I have a hip flexor strain at the anterior iliac crest - basically just another plain old overuse injury.  My doctor told me it "should be" healed by now, considering I'm so young, but all I can really do is take more time off running, plus do extra icing and stretching.  Nothing I didn't already know.  I guess I could have saved the $25 co-pay, but whatever.  Peace of mind is worth it.  The doctor also gave me a referral for physical therapy, which I may or may not use.  It's not really worth it to start here since I'm leaving town in a week, but I'll be much more crunched for time once I start school.  Maybe I'll just go to one or two sessions and get a few tips.

Onto something else: I keep finding myself in the same bothersome situation, which should probably be a sign to CHANGE SOMETHING but that would be too logical.  See, I hate restaurants for all the typical anorexic reasons - no control over how the food is prepared, eating in public, no nutrition info, etc.  Plus, I'm very particular about when I eat, and with restaurants that obviously depends on when you can get a reservation, how fast/slow the service is, how many courses there are, when other people want to go...in other words, way too many uncontrollable factors for me to handle.  In general, I try to avoid restaurants because I tend to freak out in anticipation of a huge meal, then end up overcompensating and eating way less than I had ever planned and leaving hungry.

Yesterday my family and I went out to a really nice restaurant for a special occasion. This had been planned for about a week so, naturally, I spent the whole week worrying about it.  I had visions of inhaling massive amounts of greasy, fatty, rich food and gaining ten pounds in one sitting.  (No idea where this fear comes from.  I'm a pro at picking the lightest dish on the menu and then overestimating the calories.  But I still worry about accidentally stuffing my face.)  Our reservation was at 8pm, which freaked me out in itself because that is much later than I normally eat dinner.  I don't have a problem with eating late - I eat a snack around 9 or 10 most nights - but the fact that this big, unpredictable meal was so late meant that I had all day to worry about it, and made me feel the need to eat less during the day "just in case."  So I tried to listen to my hunger and eat normally without obsessing about the dinner, but I definitely cut back more than I should have in preparation.  Plus, I spent the day shopping and touring a museum in a Big City with my mom, meaning we were on our feet walking, climbing stairs, etc. in the heat and humidity for several hours.  Hunger, crankiness, sore feet.

By dinnertime, I was BEYOND hungry.  It was that weak, drained, shaky hunger when your stomach has given up growling because what's the point, Kaylee?  I growled all day and you wouldn't give me what I wanted.  In a moment of bravery, I did not order the obviously lowest-calorie item on the menu, but maybe the second- or third- lowest.  It was a dish that I knew I would feel okay about eating, especially since I was starving, but also something decently substantial - and I ate all of it.  The verdict?  Still hungry.  I'm not sure how many calories were in my meal, but I'm almost positive that it was less than a normal dinner I would have eaten at home.

This always happens - in an effort not to eat too much, I eat much too little.  Yet somehow, I still find myself leaving restaurants with a sense of guilt, as if I really did eat too much.  So I'm left feeling guilty AND hungry, and swearing never to eat in another restaurant again.  And I completely lack the ability to adjust for error after such an outing - meaning, I can't be calm and rational and have an extra snack to break even.  It's more like, "Oh, oops!  I didn't overeat?  What a tragedy.  But maybe I did overeat.  Why does my stomach feel like it's trying to digest itself?  Huh.  I should probably work out for X extra minutes tomorrow and cut X calories because....well, just because."  Why hello, Rational Side.  No, I don't believe we've met.

I tried explaining this to W once - that I eat better at home, and restaurants cause me so much anxiety that it just doesn't seem worth the energy.  She replied that it is, and I quote, "absolutely worth it" because eating out reminds me that life goes on even when I break my stupid rigid rules.  Calories can be made up, but sticking to my own routine day in and day out only reinforces it, and makes it harder and harder to change.

And finally, I am reading a fantastic book called Half the Sky.  Parts of it are rough to read, but it is entertaining, inspiring, and uplifting.  I've been called a bleeding heart before, but this book is hard to argue with.  Basically, Nicholas Kristof and his wife traveled to a bunch of different countries investigating injustices done to women and concluded that educating and empowering girls is the best way to - for lack of better words - change the world.  I agree.  Can you tell?  Nicholas Kristof rocks.

Defeated by Ice Cream

Last night it hit me how far from normal I really am.  I thought I was okay with most foods.  I can usually fit most things into my meal plan, as long as I have a heads up.  I eat bread, pasta, sugar, cheese, etc.  All the scary stuff.

Last night, though, a bowl of ice cream totally kicked my butt.

I was hanging out with my friend C when all of a sudden, before I quite knew what was happening, we were sitting in a 24-hour diner with dessert menus in front of us.  My friend ordered a sundae while I panicked and squirmed and took freaking forever to decide what to get.  I didn't want to not order anything and sit there like an ED-possessed nutjob while C ate, but of course the ten minutes it took me to decide on a flavor, size, and topping squashed any shred of "normal" I may have still been hanging onto.

So by the time the waitress brought our orders to the table, I was a wreck.  I played with my spoon until the ice cream was melting down the sides of the dish and I had made a huge yucky mess and thoroughly humiliated myself.

C was asking lots about what I've been up to and how I've been doing and all I could focus on was how much ice cream I may or may not have actually ingested.

WHY can't I be a normal person?

Reality Check

I think I've made it pretty clear that my internship is No Fun. Basically, I work for a nonprofit that does a lot of good things for the world but I am stuck in a department that is incredibly inefficient and overly bureaucratic.  There isn't anywhere near enough work to fill the 40 hours a week that I am supposed to be there. And the work I do get is boring.

BUT as I said, the organization is actually a really cool one and has important projects all around the world, which I try to keep in mind when I'm climbing the walls of my cubicle and cursing my boss.

A hot topic around the office lately has been the Horn of Africa crisis. People are trekking for weeks to get to refugee camps because of drought and famine, showing up with emaciated toddlers, or burying their dead kids along the way. Part of my job is sifting through photos and case studies from the field for use in published materials to donors and press releases and stuff like that. I do this kind of project all the time and it's usually boring to the max, but this is different.

This is real starvation. Not my brand of self-induced, premeditated, meticulously regimented calorie restriction with a refrigerator full of fresh food in the next room - but real, inescapable starvation. Bobble-headed babies with their ribcages sticking out and toothpick arms. People who would eat to survive if only they had the luxury. People who are starving to death because there simply isn't any food.

I'm not sure where this post is going, other than to point out how jarring a little jolt of reality can be. Millions of people would kill for a fraction of the food that I have at my fingertips, and I still choose to count out my grapes because eating one too many would be catastrophic.

Perspective? Are you out there?

I cling to my ridiculous obsessions and rituals like my life depends on them, but it doesn't. My life is pretty perfect most of the time, when you get right down to it, and babies are starving without even getting a chance.  Not exactly an appetite booster, but it definitely shuts me up when lunchtime rolls around and the internal debate (does this bread have X or X + 10 calories per slice?) begins.

A Working Lunch

Today I watched another girl eat lunch.

Not in a creepy way - there was an all-staff meeting at the nonprofit where I work, so we were all crowded into a conference room from 12-1:30. All the interns were sitting around a big table and most people brought their lunches. (Not me, obviously. I had eaten at my desk ten minutes earlier. Still not totally okay with eating in front of that many people.)

This girl was sitting directly across from me and I couldn't really not watch her, but maybe a non-eating disordered person wouldn't have been as completely fascinated by it as I was.  Because I was completely and utterly enthralled by this girl.

Her lunch was pretty ordinary as far as lunches go. Sandwich, pretzels, cookies, lemonade. It was the type of balanced, non-obsessional lunch my dietician would craft and write out neatly onto my meal plan while trying to convince me that people eat stuff like that all the time. To me, though, it seemed like the idea of a standard lunch, like something you would see on MyPlate.gov. A standard lunch in theory, but not something I could imagine people actually eating in real life. Not something I could eat without getting fat.

But this girl was eating like it was no big deal. She even spoke up during the presentation to ask a question, the half-eaten sandwich still in her hand.  It was baffling to me that she seemed to have zero self-consciousness, even mid-meal.  Craziness.

I found myself trying to count up her calories as I watched the girl eat, wondering how much meat was on the sandwich, whether she'd used two slices of cheese, mayonaise or mustard, regular wheat bread or the thick grainy stuff. Because if I'd made the sandwich for myself, I would have known exact amounts of each ingredient, right down to the lettuce.

Then I began speculating on what she would eat for the rest of the day. Maybe there were X calories in the lunch...would she then have a snack later, or was this it until dinner? How much would she eat for dinner? What had she eaten for breakfast? Did she have the same breakfast every day? I had a sudden image of her eating cereal. What kind? How much? Did she measure it out first or just pour? Probably just pour. But then how would she know how much she was eating? Calories?!

And just like that, the 90-min meeting was over.

(Don't worry. I didn't miss anything important.)

Was this a productive exercise, obsessing over this girl's lunch? Nope. Especially not for me, since I obsess plenty about my own food and definitely don't need to take on anyone else's. It was eye-opening though, because I tend to assume that everyone obsesses about food as much as I do. Sometimes I need to be reminded that most people eat what they want, when they want, and maintain their weights just fine. See, Kaylee? If other people can eat normal amounts of normal food and stay the same weight, then so can you.

Then there's always the nagging thought: but what if I don't want to stay the same weight? What if I can do better?

I'm working hard to keep moving forward, even though my body image sucks and I hate everything about being at this weight. My therapist keeps telling me that it gets easier, that I have to give myself more time to get used to it, and then my body won't feel like a fat suit anymore. For now, I'm trying to hang in there, eat what I'm supposed to, trust that it will get better.

Because mostly what I felt after being a creeper and watching the girl eat today was jealousy. I wanted to be her so badly and be able to eat a normal, government-approved lunch without even knowing how much lettuce was on the sandwich.

Success?

Well, it was a loooong weekend. Definitely some ups and downs - but more ups than downs, I think. I'm pretty sure.

I had a crappy day at work on Friday. The usual boring uselessness. Then I saw my dietician and my weight was UP. Ugh. Not a lot (or even a very significant amount at all), but enough to take my shaky mood from bad to worse.

So I was NOT feeling up to the barbecue that night even though I was already totally committed and not going was not really an option. I even wanted to go. But, of course, I had to go through my ritual meltdown of tearing through my closet trying and re-trying on clothes and ripping my hair out.

Although I am pretty reserved by nature, I actually love people and nothing depresses me more than being lonely. Sometimes, though, the thought of having to put on my "normal" face and perform in a social setting is too overwhelming. ("I'm too fat/ugly/tired/stressed/busy/etc. to go!") I almost always end up having a great time once I'm there, but I guess my default is to stick to my regular, solitary routine and it takes a real push to get me out the door.

Long story short: I went to the barbecue and had a great time. My friends are hilarious and I haven't laughed so much in months. We ended up staying for over eight hours because no one, not even me, wanted to leave.

In terms of food, I got off easy. Another girl there was a vegetarian, so there were low-cal veggie burgers and salad. It ended up being a way smaller meal than I had even planned on, so I was starving when I got home and ate an extra protein bar at about 2 a.m. (VERY out of character for Kaylee) before going to bed.

Lesson learned: just go. You'll be fine.

The next day, my friend C came to visit. We ate dinner at home and hung with some other friends for a bit, but it was a pretty low-key night. I had therapy in the morning so I dropped C off at a coffee shop for an hour, then we went shopping. Again, though, I was low on calories. I had planned to grab breakfast at the coffee shop with C, but we were running late so I ended up only having a granola bar in the car. Lunch was small, and I didn't have any extra snacks with me. By late afternoon when C left, I was way under my usual calories. That, combined with two nights of very little sleep, had me falling apart by dinnertime.

My mom was cooking something elaborate and for some reason, it just seemed like too much.  Too many ingredients, too many unknown factors, too much to calculate.  I guess the little stresses of the weekend finally caught up with me and the idea of eating something new and unknown for dinner was just too much.

Even though I'd had a fantastic weekend, I was hungry and exhausted and basically in tears as I ate. My mom got to witness a full-on ugly cry, which had us both a little baffled. Yes, I had a good weekend. No, I don't want to talk about it.

These kinds of mood swings haven't been entirely unusual for me lately. I'm beginning to see how they are connected to changes in food intake, exercise, or stress. My body is definitely much stronger and healthier than it was six months ago, but sometimes I am terrified by how fragile my mind still feels.

I'm not exactly sure where this leaves me. My weekend was amazing in terms of reconnecting with old friends and catching up with C. Becoming socially engaged again is so important to me and always makes me feel so much better, so I am really proud of pulling that off. Foodwise, the fact that I avoided consuming thousands of excess calories and gaining thirty pounds overnight is always a success in my book...but I did eat less than I was supposed to and instead of feeling guilty about it, I feel relieved. So that, I guess, is a recovery fail.

Weekend Worries

Lots of scary stuff coming up this weekend.  First of all, I'm seeing my dietician tomorrow.  The good news is that I get to miss an hour of work for my appointment.  The bad news is that I will be getting weighed, which I despise.  Also bad: I will have lots of unpredictable eating situations in the next couple of days that I do NOT want to approach if I am already upset about my weight.  Since I weigh myself at home, I usually know what to expect at my dietician's office, but my weight has been doing funky things this week (fluctuating way more than usual for no apparent reason) so I worry that it will be high tomorrow which will land me in a Fat Funk.

More challenges: tomorrow night I'm going to a barbecue with some old friends from high school.  The biggest issue with this is the "unknown" factor.  I'm not exactly sure what's on the menu, and whether it will be a free-for-fall where everyone takes their own food, or if there will be a big to-do over how many burgers to cook, who wants potato salad, etc.  So I'm nervous about attention to my eating, which never fails to kill my appetite.  Stressing about food makes me not fun to be around, and I really don't want to let that ruin the night.

Then on Saturday, one of my best friends from college is coming to visit.  (To clarify, our school is six states away but this friend grew up about an hour north of me.)  I am really excited to see her, but definitely a little nervous about food.  This friend is a little overweight but not unhealthy, since she is pretty active and eats well.  Read: she's normal.  At the same time, though, I know she worries about her weight and little comments about calories/fat/BMI tend to sneak into our conversations.  Not to make her sound obsessed, because she's not.  She also loves to go out for ice cream, which definitely worries me.  I can usually do meals okay - it's the "extra" stuff (dessert) that freaks me out.  More so when it follows a conversation about calories and BMI.

But even more than food issues, the idea of having someone in my "space" is always nerve-wracking to me.  I love love LOVE seeing my friends, but I can't last very long without having some exit strategy for when I need some alone time.  Food definitely plays into this - when you spend several hours with someone, you can only avoid eating for so long.  This scares me.  I don't really have issues with eating enough at the moment; it's more that I like to eat certain foods at certain times, prepare my own foods, and be able to measure/count/season everything myself so I know exactly what I'm eating.  When I'm with friends, there's the pressure of not having that control, plus the pressure of trying to look normal.  I can't plan obsessively, and I can't obsess about my lack of planning.  Anxiety?  YES.

I don't eat spontaneously.  I don't skip workouts.  I don't choose what looks yummy.  Is this disordered?  Duh.  Does this lend itself to a fun-filled weekend of friends, ice cream, and barbecue?  NO.

In the spirit of recovery, though, I am trying really hard not to let myself get stressed over what should be a really fun weekend.  I have spent too many social events be overshadowed by my own freaking-outage in the past, and it's so not worth it.  Lately, it has been occurring to me that recovery is not just about eating enough calories, but putting yourself in situations that are uncomfortable and stressful (for food reasons or otherwise), and coming out on the other side.

Living, losing

There is another intern, A, in my department at work.  We sit on opposite sides of the office and don't see each other much during the day, but we've been meeting up for lunch or walking to Starbucks together most afternoons.

I'm generally a wimp about making new friends and I hate eating in front of other people - especially new people - but A is actually awesome and we have really hit it off.  She has this dry, smart, sarcastic sense of humor, but she is also really thoughtful and intelligent.

Aside from being entertaining, though, A is super confident.  She is a lesbian and sometimes mentions her girlfriend, which I think makes the other interns a little uncomfortable, but A is totally cool about it.  She is who she is, no apologies, take it or leave it.

BUT...she wants to lose weight.

She was munching on some carrot sticks at lunch and another intern made some comment like, "Oh, you're so healthy!" and A just sort of laughed and said, "Well, I'm trying to lose twenty pounds!"

And I choked.

I have absolutely no idea how to respond in situations like that.  Do I encourage her?  "Good for you!" To me, that seems like I'm saying: Yes, you sure need to lose those twenty pounds!

Do I protest? "Omg no way you're soooo skinny! You don't need to lose any weight! Hugz!" Fake.

(For the record, A is not overweight.  Not thin, but definitely not fat.  Maybe a tad over "average," but she looks just fine to me.)

So to hear her say that she wanted to lose weight depressed me.  I see her as someone full of life and confidence; someone who clearly has a lot to offer the world.  But what if she secretly hates herself?

The possibility didn't make me feel any more bonded to her in some sisterhood of body-image blues.  It made me feel lonely.  And sad.

So I was sitting there stuttering, trying to decide how to answer, when A frowned.  "Oh wait, I just realized I said twenty pounds.  I meant ten."  She laughed.  "If I lost twenty pounds I would be a skeleton."

For some reason, that made me feel so much better.  A doesn't want to "Lose Weight" and reach some vague goal of being skinnier.  She wants to eat her turkey and cheese sandwich, veggies, fruit salad, and pretzels; go biking after work; and live more healthfully because she is young and if not now, then when?

(Does she need to lose ten pounds?  I honestly can't say just by looking at her, and I've only known her for a few weeks.  So, maybe she does and maybe she doesn't.  Not my call.)

Regardless, she seems to have a really healthy approach to it, which both impresses and baffles me. See, I wouldn't be able to say "I want to lose X pounds" and stop there.  Throughout my eating disorder, I've never had a specific goal weight in mind.  In fact, I was never really trying to lose weight - just terrified that I was going to Get Fat.  I would restrict, lose a little, freak out about gaining it back, restrict more, lose more, etc.  Fear, anxiety, nightmares of fatness.  Health was never part of the equation.

Will A be satisfied after losing ten pounds?  I hope so, if she actually does have ten pounds to lose.   I hope she feels awesome by becoming healthier - NOT by becoming some lesser version of who she was before.

Dear Stomach: SHHHH

My appetite is, honestly, scaring the heck out of me.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I am starving ALL THE TIME.  My usual meals and snacks just aren't satisfying me.  My stomach literally starts growling within an hour of eating.  (And I'm eating enough!)

I don't know why this is happening now, after I've been maintaining a basically healthy weight for over a month.  I remember how a few weeks into re-feeding, my hunger was ridiculous - like, I would finish a meal and be starving ten minutes later, but my dietician had told me to expect that.  I was at a lower weight and the idea of more food = metabolism speeding up = increased hunger made total sense to me.

But now?  I guess I have been running a lot, so maybe it's accumulating fatigue or something.  My best friend from high school and I starting taking a Pilates class that makes me pretty sore, so maybe I'm building new muscle.  Plus, last weekend was a change of routine so maybe my body is recalibrating or something.  (I'm totally making up these theories on the spot.)

I've been eating pretty much the same number of calories since coming down from weight gain amounts over the past couple of months.  My lower days definitely outnumber my higher days, but I don't think I've ever dipped below a healthy, dietician-approved amount.

So why now am I suddenly SO. HUNGRY. all the time?  I eat my usual breakfast at 8 and am dying by 10.  I usually hold out until lunch at 11:45-12 or so.  At the beginning of the summer, I was having my snack at 3:30 - this week, I've been lucky to make it until 2:15.  So, naturally, the thought of waiting for dinner at our typically 6 or 7 is unbearable.  My mom and I have been eating around 5-5:30, just because I get home from work absolutely famished and literally can't make it any longer.  Then I have another snack around 8 or 9 and try to get to bed before my stomach starts growling again.

Secretly, (of course) I was hoping this meant I'd lost some weight - but no.  My weight has maybe slid down a teeny tiny bit in the past month or so, but definitely not enough to warrant the massive increase in food that my body has abruptly decided to ask for.

This isn't normal-person "I-haven't-eaten-since-breakfast-so-of-course-I'm-hungry" hunger, either.  This is dizzy/shaky/sick hunger.  Dear-Kaylee-give-me-food-any-food-NOW-love-your-body hunger.

Something that I have noticed since starting re-feeding is that eating regularly, meaning every 3-4 hours, is just as important as eating enough calories for me.  Even if I eat a massive breakfast, I would still need to eat again by lunchtime.  I'm not sure what the biological mechanisms going on here are, but I seem to get low blood sugar or something very easily.  So maybe my body has had enough of that dance and would like to just get a heftier stream of calories to work with?  Build up some reserves?

Another thing - periods still aren't regular.  I had one totally normal period in April, one very light one in May, and nothing since.  But even with the light/no period months, I still definitely got PMS symptoms around the weeks when my period should have come.  So maybe my body is telling me I need a bit more food to get the hormones running?  Or something?

But why now, body?  And why can't you just be happy where you are?  Or a little thinner?  Just kidding.

So, I am confused.  And irritated. And HUNGRY.

Post mini-vacation high

I'm back home after back-to-back flight nightmares and a hellishly boring day at work, but somehow I am still in a good mood.  I don't think I've remained consistently happy for this many days (about three) in a row since...probably last summer?

My weekend was fabulous.  Exactly what I needed.  My friend was the perfect combination of supportive, distracting, and ego-boosting to make me feel NOT worthless and fat.  She also helped with some of my anxieties about school in the fall - namely, that everyone will gawk at how fat I've gotten and hate me forever.

In terms of food, I actually think I did fantastic - if I do say so myself.  K's family is pretty health conscious, but relaxed about it.  They basically eat anything (meaning meat, dessert, fruits/veggies, butter, oil, starches, etc.), but mostly just a lot of wholesome, real, home-cooked food.  We had all of our meals at home, and I definitely ate more liberally at meals than I ever do at home (although I skipped all of my usual snacks...but I do think I made up for it at meals).  Part of it was definitely not wanting to look like the weird anorexic friend who doesn't eat, especially since K and her parents are all aware of my eating disorder.  But part of it was also just me letting go, eating what looked good, and listening to my body more than I have in a long, long time.

It was also the first time in years that I haven't counted calories.  (Another confession: my nutritionist thinks I stopped counting calories weeks ago, but I haven't.  I can't.  I literally cannot NOT count...no matter what, I automatically add everything up in my head and I have no idea how to not do that.  It is as instinctual as breathing.  This is one issue that I KNOW contributes to my disordered thinking and makes me hugely obsessive, but I haven't even really attempted to address it simply because I have no freaking clue how.)

Anyway, I had no way to determine the calories in the foods K's mom prepared.  I also didn't have to judge portion sizes because she always put everything on my plate for me.  Basically, I had zero control over the food and I totally went with it.  I even had dessert twice. Go me.

Now before you think I've fully recovered and mastered intuitive eating in 2 days, I have to admit that I have completely reverted to my usual rigid habits without missing a beat since being home.  It wasn't out of guilty urge to compensate for gorging over the weekend; I didn't overeat at K's house, and my weight has actually inched down since I last weighed myself on Friday before my trip.  I have just slipped back into my typical eating/running routines because that's what I do.  I wouldn't have expected things to go any other way.

But this happiness thing is still lingering.  I didn't even have an internal meltdown when BOTH of my flights got delayed and I didn't get home until midnight.  Maybe my body is still soaking up all that wholesome, K-approved comfort food.  Either way, I feel good and I'm hanging onto it.

Weekend Trip

Tomorrow I am flying out to visit a friend from school, and I'm thrilled to say that I am actually excited about something for the first time in a long, long time.  Actually, I'm 90% excited to see her and 10% excited to miss a day of this stupid internship.

This friend, K, was my roommate last fall before I moved back home.  We met freshman year through a mutual friend and since then have become majorly close.  We think alike and we get along pretty perfectly. Basically, we just get each other.

Another thing - she is the most normal, healthy, sane eater I have ever met.  She eats three square meals a day, snacks when she's hungry, has dessert when she feels like it, works out to feel good, etc.  In this way, she baffles me.

K was probably one of the first people to notice my wacky eating habits over the past year.  She never got confrontational about it, but I definitely sensed concern.  (I also think she MAY have mentioned something/possible e-mailed my mom to say she was worried...but I have no proof.  If I ever confirmed that this were true, I would honestly just respect and love her even more.  But again, no proof.  And I don't think I will ever ask her about it because it would just put us both in an uncomfortable position.)

Similarly, I think I started realizing how far gone I was by comparing my eating habits to hers.  Eventually, I just started avoiding her at mealtimes because the differences between us were just to extreme to ignore.  It would have been funny - if not for the whole anorexia thing.

Anyway, rambling finished.  I am ridiculously excited to see her tomorrow, even though it will be a whirlwind trip bookended by plane rides, which I despise.  I'm a little nervous about the food stuff, obviously, but tend to do okay now eating with others.  I fear drawing unwanted attention to myself ALMOST as much as I fear getting fat, so I usually make a point of eating normal(ish) portions and not engage in any blatantly disordered behaviors when I'm with people outside my family.  Total peer pressure, 100%, but I guess it's good for me.

Off to finish (start) packing.

My Life is This

My life is this: I wake up in my childhood bedroom after (not) sleeping all night.  Wait until I hear my mom leave for work, go downstairs, gulp a cup of coffee, and head out for a run.  Sweat a lot.  Shower, dress, breakfast, jump in the car and speed to work.  I'm still always late.  It was more important to fit the run in.  Not that anyone cares when I show up - I am interning at a nonprofit that clearly has no clue what to do with interns.  So, I sit in my windowless cubicle and stare at my computer screen and debate whether or not to eat my snack.  Then lunch.  Then snack.

I make approximately six trips to the bathroom - partly because I have a freakishly small bladder, partly because I also make six trips to the water fountain, and partly because I can't sit still in my chair for more than twenty minutes at a time.

By four p.m. I'm so bored I want to rip my hair out.  Thirty minutes to go.  At four-thirty on the dot, I bolt.  Speed home, change, head to the gym.  Pound the treadmill, bike, sweat, another quick shower at home, dinner, collapse.  Snap at my mother.  Debate snack.  Eat it.  Collapse.

No, I am not supposed to be working out twice a day, but it is one of the unexpected snags that has cropped up in my recovery.  I've always been active - I played pretty much every sport at some point growing up, and got really into cross country and track during high school.  Since then, I have been a self-proclaimed Runner with a capital R.  I had to stop in December because my doctor scared me about my heart and my bones.  I've only just recently taken it up again (with permission!) in the past couple of months and I'm already hooked.  Totally addicted. I am definitely seeing how it can become a trigger for me, as I think a lot of people with EDs find.

So, the solution would be to stop, right?  Or at least come clean to my parents or my treatment team about how much exercise I'm doing, before it starts eating away at my mind again?  Ha.  Even though I know that I should be easing into exercise, it has been hard to rationalize that when I feel the need to "make up" for the past few months.  (Note: I KNOW this is irrational and disordered and completely unhealthy.  I am not advocating this type of thinking or behavior.  I really wish that I had been able to follow my nutritionist's advice on exercise because I do feel trapped in my routines now and it is definitely a setback I did not anticipate.)

Also, it is hard to justify cutting back the exercise when I am eating plenty and basically maintaining an okay weight.  I am JUST weight-restored...sort of.  Technically, according to my nutritionist, I am still a few pounds below "healthy" BUT I am in my range (albeit scraping the bottom, apparently, and bouncing in and out from week to week) and for now, that's good enough for me.  So it is really hard to convince myself that if I suddenly cut out the running, my weight wouldn't shoot up.

So this is my summer - okay food and weight, sucky job, insane running that keeps me sane - but there's still a whole lot of summer left to go.