E-mail I sent to Marci 3 minutes ago

Hi Marci,

I'm having one of those awful ED thoughts that I'm sure are being supported by some faulty beliefs regarding nutrition and meals and stuff. Here's the gist of what today has been like (and if you'd rather discuss this in our session next week that's fine): This morning I had to wake up way earlier than usual, 6:30 to be exact, because I had a babysitting gig at 8:00 and I wanted to have breakfast and do some other stuff first. I knew that since I was going to be running around a lot today going from job to job I would probably need more food or whatever so I was good about that... and I actually had lunch at 11:30 because of how early I'd eaten breakfast so I challenged the time rules there and that was okay. Subsequently then, I had dinner early too, at a quarter to six and then I had a frozen yogurt for my dessert, which I'm also going to count as my evening snack I think. Here's the problem/horrible thought: I should have had the frozen yogurt later in the evening because I'm staying here until ten and then walking home and now since I've just blown everything by hitting all my exchanges before even six o' clock, I'm going to be hungry in four hours and have to eat more which goes over the meal plan and I would have been able to avoid that hunger if I had I just delayed my dessert. I suppose I could just try and tolerate the hunger but that seems restrictive.

Is this true? Would I be less hungry in a few hours if I'd just eaten the froyo at like eight or something? I'm confused. Angry and confused. Hey! At least can identify the emotions properly. Karen R. Wutzherface would be so proud.

Anywho, thanks for reading. I think just writing out this e-mail has helped me feel a lot better. See you on Tuesday!!

-Eliza :)

Can I pick 'em or can I pick 'em?!

Well despite having to wake up sickeningly early to help Tulan open the ice cream store this morning, only to find that she wasn't there and then having to wait an hour outside in the freezing cold for her to arrive with the key, I couldn't feel too bogged down because last night was so much fun! I couldn't have chosen better companions to keep me company while I was house sitting last night. Rachel was a shoo in for a bunk mate because of how eager she was to practice shadow puppets with me, Mary, one of her best friends, came along to provide us with some stellar impressions of the teachers at her school, and Jake... well Jake came along because he had nothing better to do and I only enjoy being with kids for about an hour or so and then I start to get sick of all the clean and wholesome fun. I always love having someone to make inappropriate and crude comments with.

Anyways, we all watched Glee together at 8:00 and I brought a frozen Amy's pizza for everyone to share afterwards. After like five minutes of being in the oven though, the smoke alarm went off and Rachel started freaking out. Nothing was on fire or anything, but there was smoke EVERYWHERE. We opened all the windows and then took turns fanning the air around the smoke detector so that it would stop sounding. Luckily Amy's pizzas only take 12 minutes to bake so Jake and I took turns waving newspapers at the alarm until it was done. We drove Mary home at 10:00, and Jake stopped off at our house to pick up some microwave popcorn for the movie. He tried making homemade kettle corn for us. It was sort of gross looking. He popped up some regular microwave popcorn and then drizzled corn syrup and brown sugar over it. So... not really kettle corn come to think of it. It was soggy and limp but surprisingly delicious. Then we all fell asleep on the couch watching Anchorman.

Tonight I finish work at 5:00 so hopefully we can have another sibling night. Tomorrow is going to be horrible. I'll probably have to wake up at around 6:30 because I'm babysitting from 8:00 to 1:00. Then from their house I'll have to walk straight over the ice cream store for my double shift until 10:00. I feel like I complain a lot about how much I work and stuff. It is stressful to be sure, but I feel bad when I compare it to stuff everyone else around the globe is going though. You know there have been mini earthquakes in Indiana for the past couple of days?

Sleeeeep. I want sleeeeep.

I started writing a post last night once I had settled into the house that I'll be sitting for this week. I sat down at their computer with a big snugly blanket wrapped around me, all excited to write something interesting and then nothing came so I just went to bed. I think I was just totally wiped yesterday because of how much working and running around I'd been up to. I was at the ice cream store from 5 until 10 and then I cleaned up and closed by myself, then at around 11 I walked back to the house, and walked their dog for twenty minutes. A part of me was glad to have had all the exercise though, because I'd had a frozen yogurt for dessert that I was feeling guilty about.

I can't quite say yet how I feel about having a house all to myself. Some parts of it are nice. I like feeling in charge and responsible, and I like their pets. I think I'd feel much more lonely without the pets. Their dog Molly follows me into every room, and she slept most of the night at the foot of my bed. It was really sweet and I really want a dog. I'm not so fond however, of having no one to talk to or joke around with like I have at home. The house is also really big and has a lot of mirrors up on the walls, which sucks because I can't go anywhere without catching a glimpse of myself and then wanting to throw up. I miss home :( Tomorrow night I'm definitely having Rachel spend the night there with me.

I don't want to see Marci tomorrow. I dunno. I just don't. I'm feeling apathetic about life. Also I forget what homework she gave me to do this week... last Tuesday it was to challenge the rules I have about "timing" for my meals. It's like, if I have breakfast at 11 a.m., I'll tell myself that since breakfast was late, all the other meals should be pushed back accordingly. Then what happens is at around 1:30 I'm hungry for lunch but I won't eat because it's too soon after breakfast. Then I'll get hungrier and hungrier, and then binge or something because I couldn't wait. I'm getting better at that stuff though.

Boom boom pow

So for everyone BUT me, next week is February vacation and that means my mom won't be teaching, my brother doesn't have school, and neither does Rachel. I still have work, and my mom set me up with a house sitting gig for this family in our neighborhood who is going away over break. They have a dog and two kitties so I figured she'd just need me to do walking and feeding and water plants and other domestic shit but this evening, when I went over to their house to get a run down of my responsibilities, I was totally thrown for a loop. She starts walking me through the rooms, introducing me to the pets, and showing me where their food is kept and everything blah blah blah and then she brings me upstairs. She brings me into a bedroom and goes, "So you can take Sam's room." At first I didn't really understood what she meant so I just ignored it but then she started explaining to me how the shower works and where I can do my laundry and stuff. I didn't want to seem impolite so I just went along like everything was making sense but in my head I was like, what the eff?! She wants me to literally live in her house while they're gone? My mother never said a word about anything like that. Typical though. So I guess I'll be spending the majority of next week in their house... alone, in their house alone and by myself without anyone else. Maybe I can convince my sister to spend a couple of the nights with me there. We can make a girl's night out of it or something.

Is anyone else sitting at home and feeling bored on this very cold, dreary Saturday night? I had a good day today but now I'm bored as balls. I went to the science museum with my brother and sister and saw an Omni theater show about the great lakes. Then we went to a neat exhibit about diabetes and got to walk around inside a pancreas that was thirty feet high! They also had these little machines where you stick your arm in and this little puff of air shoots out into your arm to simulate what an insulin shot feels like. It was all very fun and interesting until we got to the part about how everyone should diet and exercise so as not to get diabetes. There were two pretend refrigerators that you could open up and look in, one was stocked with HEALTHY GOOD food, and the other with SUGARY BAD food. It made me feel sick and depressed so I turned to my brother and said, "Jake this is triggering, I want to go." Then he looked at me and said, "You're right. Let's get some brownies."

Speaking of my little brother, he's out on a third date with this girl named Leah who runs and track and has lots of friends. My little brother is on a date. I feel like crying because of how much everyone else is changing but me.

Late night grumpies

I'm having thoughts. Intrusive thoughts. Thoughts about food. Thoughts about weight. To be specific, thoughts about dieting. Obviously these sorts of thoughts come with the territory of having an eating disorder, but for those of you out there who have tried your hand at recovery- ever noticed that the thoughts tend to get particularly chatty and bothersome once you try leaving behaviors at the door? Its the sad and unfair truth that the books and experts don't warn you about enough. I mean, of course I was prepared for the anxiety and struggle that would ensue after becoming a faithful convert to Marci's meal plan, but here's the thing: Right now, the cons of recovery seem to be outweighing the pros.

Pros of Recovery:

-less bingeing
-no instant weight loss
-less hunger now that I get to eat more

Cons of Recovery:

-guilt and shame after eating (even when it's a normal amount!)
-less fantasizing about desserts when I'm bored
-intolerable feelings of inadequacy b/c I'm at this weight
-more free floating anxiety
-increased isolation from people
-constant despair and hopelessness
-I used to be pretty and now I look like a middle aged man

What's the good of doing all this work if I'm not getting anything out of it? I mean, High School was horrible but I stuck through it because I knew it would end after four years. If I had some sort of promise like that for recovery then maybe things would be different but I have no reason to believe that there is a light at the end of THIS tunnel. Huh. Well so far these are just thoughts and I'm wise enough to know that thoughts aren't always there to lead you in the right direction. I just hate hate hate this.

Although maybe it's not the meal plan and the recovery work that's making me feel this way. Maybe it's just the eating disorder trying to fight back somehow. But how could that possibly work? It's not like I'm possessed or anything... GOD this would be so much easier if wasn't so FAT. It's the being fat that's really killing me I think. I've spent my entire adult life trying to get to a weight I could be satisfied with and then the few times I actually did, it was awesome, but it was so much work staying there. I can't remember a time when I wasn't trying to lose weight, and now the desire to be thin is still stronger than ever, but I've given up the methods and practices of actually losing weight. This sucks.

Giant tortoise

I've been thinking about something recently. People are always telling me to get out there and be more social and have more friends and be less isolated, and until recently I thought they must be right. But you know, most people I meet just make me anxious and depressed about life. It's sad but true. And don't you like the way I phrased that statement? I could have been really insensitive and said something like, "most people are superficial and corrupted," but instead I made it a statement about myself- that way it doesn't sound accusatory. Anyway, the point I'm trying to subtly make is that it's not me, it's them. It's people! Every day that goes by just provides me with further proof that I don't belong here. And by here, I mean earth. Not to toot my own horn or anything (because we all know I'm severely flawed), but if I can have a compassionate and understanding heart, why do the majority of humans seem to be without one? I mean, even the people I care most about in the world aren't as nice as I wish they could be. My brother makes fun of me all the time, my mom is never at a loss for pointing out the areas of my life that I can improve upon, and I'm pretty sure my dad thinks I have some high functioning mental retardation. RRghh, it's so frustrating. But, that's why I limit my social interaction I guess. If you don't get close to people you don't have to risk being disappointed by them.

On the way home from work this evening I slipped on the ice and fell into a cold and soggy puddle. I wanted to cry, I felt so pitiful and alone. My arm was all scratched up and bleeding, my butt was soaked, and I dropped my mom's copy of David Copperfield in the snow. Do you ever have moments where you feel like you've hit rock bottom? Well this was one of those moments.

Say whaaaaat?

Dr. Gordon was in rare form yesterday. Usually she just lets me start off on whatever I feel like venting about but yesterday she was all taking out her notes from the session with my parents last week, asking me if I talked at all to them about how it went.

"My mom approves of you I think."

"Did she saying anything about what we discussed?"

"Ummm.... she mentioned that you thought I should get a psychiatrist about the meds. Oh, and she loves your wallpaper."

"Is that it? Okay, then I guess they're leaving me to do their dirty work." At this I started getting extremely agitated and defensive, demanding (gently of course) to know what they said about me, insisting she tell me everything my mom said and begged she wouldn't leave anything out. Haha Dr. Gordon was like, "Wow, you're really worried about what they think of you. Do you really not know what they might be concerned about?" I explained to Dr. Gordon that my dad, though wonderful and funny and loving, doesn't really do the whole talking and sharing personal stuff gag, while my mom will often point out areas that she wants me to work on, like dressing in clothes that actually fit me and getting more comfortable with sharing personal space- whatever that means. "Well I think they see how much you don't like your body, and they notice how much you isolate yourself from everyone." Well, this I already knew, so that was a relief. I thought she was going to say something like, "Your parents wish you'd just leave already and get your ass back in school," or "Your mom thinks that you need to lose some of the binge weight." What was surprising to learn however, is that my parents are afraid of me. Apparently they're hesitant to talk to me about stuff because they think I'll be so overcome with emotion that I'll fall into a depression or fly into a fit of rage and slash my wrists open. I added that last part but you get the idea. I feel so bad! I mean, yes I'd prefer to keep my problems to myself and work on them alone and without the "support" of my family, but that doesn't mean they need to tip toe around me! Jesus. Do I come off that volatile? Then she said she thought it would be really good if all of us could have a meeting together- just me and my parents and her. She's brought this up before though so it didn't take me entirely by surprise. It was funny though, at the moment she was saying this, I was taking a sip of water and then all at once started choking on it and she was like, "So I guess you're still not up for it?" I assured her the idea of having a session with all of us was absolutely out of question and possibly the scariest and most anxiety producing experience I could ever imagine. Then she was like, "Okay, but I'm not giving up on this." Great.

You know what else she brought up that was totally and completely unexpected? She asked if I ever though about doing a review of the outpatient program. At first I didn't know quite what she meant.

"A review?" I asked. "Like go on a journey back in time to last year and mentally revisit everything I learned?" I imagine it would be similar to what happened to Scrooge in a Christmas Carol- going back and seeing himself as an innocent little boy, apprentice to the jolly Fezziwig. When viewed in this light, the idea actually sounded kind of cool.

"Or...," she said, raising her eyebrows at me as she would at a moron, "you could actually go back."

I was silent for a few seconds and then I said, "Why? I'm not bingeing nearly as often as I used to, and I'm following a meal plan more faithfully than I ever have in my entire life!" I was offended and hurt really, at her suggestion. Then she explained that it's BECAUSE I'm doing so well that it might be good to have the extra support. That way it might ensure that the recovery sticks nice and tight.

"You're really anxious right now, and it's probably because you're adjusting to life without behaviors. Going back, even if it's just for the evening IOP program, might be a really good idea."

I told her I'd think about it, but I don't know what to think.