Smoothie!

It’s a bit early for a ‘what I ate’ post, but I’ve just had an insane weekend for eating. Cinnamon rolls, and then today I made this peanut butter oatmeal smoothie (peanut butter, cocoa, oats, almond milk, and then i substituted some maple syrup for the honey, all blended with ice.) It was DIVINE, I tell you. I used to love Friendly’s peanut butter cup friend-z’s with chocolate soft serve in my dairy-eating days and this hearkened back a bit.

I’m getting ready to weight restore. Or to move towards it. I’ve been racking my brain for non-dairy ways to eat high calorie foods because the typical milkshake idea won’t work for me. I also want it to be healthy. This is relatively healthy, not too filling as an add on, and pretty darned tasty. Of course, my downstairs neighbors will hate me for the blender, but…

Other than that…life is ok. I’m beating myself up a lot, over everything. I’ve made a few legitimate mistakes that I think I deserve to be burned at the stake for. I’m nervous about going back to work this week, and I feel huge due to the food I ate this weekend (my nephew also baked a special dessert for the family, and so I had to have some of that, too, and God only knows how many calories that was. It’s been a bakery weekend). I keep having to breathe myseldf through it. Just keep breathing.

And Friday, if I am brave, bumping up my intake.

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Harsh reality

I went to my primary care provider’s office this week to be weighed, and it was sobering. It seems my therapist has gotten word to them and this time I was actually treated like an ED patient, standing on the scale backwards. Until now I had the option to know my weight. And just…it was out in the open. I didn’t really like it, at all. It’s a shift, and annoying to the ED voice because although I normally ask not to know my weight, I REALLY wanted to look this time. Probably for all the wrong reasons, but I did. I don’t know. It shook me a bit, all of it, and made all of this ED treatment seem like ED treatment, and seem real, and seem serious.

That’s probably fair. I’ve not been keeping up this week, I have been restricting. I think I have lost weight. Some of it is, I think, that I know the idea is when when my friend comes back from vacation I will try to gain, and so I am trying to lose before that kicks in.

I AM sad about my friend being away. She is a source of support, a ready source of support, and not having her to easily turn to is going to be really, really challenging. She leaves tomorrow. And we did have a conversation about the losing weight, and she challenged me that if I get into weight loss/heavy restricting mode, I am digging myself further into a hole. I tried to talk about how I was apathetic on wanting to eat, and she replied, “I know too much about this for you to pull that over on me. It is not that you don’t care. You know what you’re doing, so stop trying to manipulate the situation and your interpretation. Part of you wants to lose weight. Part of you wants to not eat as a way to cope with your problems and stressors. You’ve said that to me. Own what it is, and if you make that choice then it is your choice, but I’m not going to let you manipulate or pretend it’s not a choice.’ It was hard to hear. But she’s probably right. She also said she seems me slipping further and further away, emotionally and physically shrinking, and it’s hard to see even my personality slip away. It was an intense conversation. I feel horribly that this affects her, and tried to tell her to go away because she didn’t sign on for this when we became friends. She told me she doesn’t choose out of friendships and that she is not going to go away. That scares me.

I keep waiting for the day I no longer want to restrict as the day I will start to gain, but I’m beginning to think the day I never want to restrict again is a long time coming, or may never come again. I am losing my will to try to get better from this and that scares me, I need to kick in and begin to fight before I lose the ability altogether. I need to find the will and desire to fight to get better, to care, to accept my life is worth living. That’s my goal for this week – to get back to what I believe is a maintenance level, and identify my reasons for fighting.

Perfection, or lack thereof

Today I totally blew something at work.

I felt like an idiot. Angry at myself, really. All I could think was – see? You’re behind already, and now this. You are just horrible at life, and people are going to hate you, and this is totally inexcusable. How could you mess up like this? You’re just a complete screwup. I truly wanted to go home, lay down, and never wake up.

It sort of ties in with a lot of my history, which I have been thinking a lot about lately, and how it ties in with my current issues. Perfectionism plays a huge role in this current eating thing. Like, I feel like if I eat too much, I’m losing some game in which winning is eating as little as possible. If I go to the store and anything at all is too small for me, I feel like I’m a failure somehow. Like I’m losing the game of sizes because I cannot fit inside every piece of clothing in the store. The only perfect weight is the low weight I have not attained. I have to be the best at not eating, disappearing, being small.

This has deep roots. My entire life, I have been in a pressure cooker. My parents used to yell at me for grades below an A. When I had a B- in history, my mother was ashamed to have me as a daughter. When I had a B+ in math, I was lazy, I got yelled at, I was not living up to expectations, I was failing at the job of being a student. when I didn’t want to go to Vassar or Bryn Mawr or Harvard or Johns Hopkins, I wasn’t living up to the standard of attending a good college. When I didn’t get the highest award possible at the awards ceremony, I didn’t get congratulated for the award I DID receive, I got criticized for not getting a good enough award. When I didn’t play my best at soccer, I wasn’t living up to the amount of money being spent to put me on the team. I don’t think my mother told me she was proud of me until I was 19 or 20, and still when I graduated college cum laude the question was why not higher.

And it was global. I took the SAT at 12, and I got a good score, and that score haunted me. I wasn’t living up to the potential I tested at. I wasn’t making the right choices to fully live that out. No one bothered to ask why I wasn’t acing school when they thought I would (and by ‘acing’ I mean all A’s including in AP classes). They just yelled. Maybe had they asked, we would have noticed my bipolar, my stress, my cutting years early. I wasn’t allowed an off day, a bad test, without being criticized, punished, yelled at. Who in life doesn’t have bad days or make mistakes? And yet I wasn’t allowed? I was failing as a student, a person, a daughter? Nothing, no matter what I tried, was good enough. It’s a wonder i kept trying.

And so now, in my head, nothing is good enough. I learned the script, I absorbed the rules, I no longer need reminders because I do it myself. And when I mess up, I am a failure who never lives up to her potential, always underperforms. When I am not the best at everything, I am a failure.

When I eat, I am a failure. If I gain weight, I am a failure. If I cook toast wrong, I am a failure. If I mistakenly forget to clean a dish, I am a failure. There is nothing I do in my life that I am not at risk for being a failure at; each day is brimming with new possibilities and opportunities to prove that I am not and never will be good enough.

Well, there is one thing I AM perfect at. Knowing I am a failure.

Day plans and struggles

Yesterday was an abysmal food day.

Fridays are therapy day, which always makes eating difficult, and my usual place to calm down/decompress/get comfort wasn’t available – this will be true for several weeks. It was unplanned, and only figured out that morning, and it threw me badly. Has been, I am very worried about the next few weeks. I just didn’t want to eat – lack of appetite, angry, sad, responding to my therapist’s questions about whether I want to change the way they are and my ambivalence towards it. Seriously wanting to lose. I hate the side of me that sees losing as perfection, and as a way to speak. It was pretty darned successful last night.

For today I impulsively booked a day trip into the city near me. It’s a distraction, running, but a good way, I think, to deal with unplanned unstructured time – I do horribly with unstructured time. Hoping to do some exploring as well as sitting and writing.

I usually struggle with breakfasts that are big. But I am challenging myself to eat a slightly bigger than usual breakfast to make up for yesterday and fuel my body today. 12 grain toast AND lean bacon, go!

Hope everyone has a great Saturday!

Priorities

A close close friend of mine and I talked this week over how, if I continue to lose weight, she or I should respond to her kids if they noticed. (They are mostly young, with one almost teenager). And we talked about whether she would be comfortable with me being around her kids at her house if I looked scary thin. She’s not sure. And while I completely respect her decision….that would be a really hard thing for me. It’s one of the best friendships I have ever had, balanced and healthy, and due to the kids we mostly need to hang out at her house. So not being at her house would mean not seeing her much.

She already set a line of, if I am there for a meal I need to model healthy eating, and I’ve been ok with that, I eat well. But this line would be more difficult. And I should be able to eat and eat and eat in order to save this connection – but I just can’t. Does this disorder have my head so twisted up that I am literally poised to sacrifice anything, including important friendships and my place as stability for my nephews, in order to worship it?

Is this my way of pushing people away when they get close and I try to trust them? I know I struggle with boundaries in relationships and getting close yet trusting boundaries will be intact. I have to wonder if this is my way of sabotaging these things that involve closeness and trust. Mine got trampled on and betrayed when I was young, and it’s profoundly affected me.

On another note – does anyone have any ideas on how to deal with kids in this? Like explanations of losing weight? We can’t say the truth, but if we say I am sick they will want to know in what way and if it’s catching and how long I will be and why it makes me lose weight. Curious bright kids. We’re both stuck.

My goal is for the issue not to come up but….it seems that it’s hard to stop.