Lazy Lexapro

pretty pills from here

As it turns out, a lot of my drive to talk/blog/write has been driven by my anxiety.

And I know this because it's disappeared a lot lately. An increase in my daily dose has had a marked effect on my 'need' to blog. And also my 'want' to blog.

I can't decided whether I can't be bothered. I'm too tired. I don't care. Or I just don't have as much to say.


Whatever the reason, the upshot is I have found it very difficult to even open my own blog - and nigh on impossible to read anyone else's. Which is very strange for me.

I'm hoping it is just a settling in period, and I'll adjust to the increase - because I really love to write. But not just to hear my own voice. And if I were to write at the moment that's what it would feel like. I want to write because I am fired up about something. Because there is something burning inside me that I have to share. I don't want to talk just to fill the silence.

So I guess this is a little explanation of where I have been lately. I'm still here, muddling along. With my good days and bad days and everything in between. I'm just not quite myself.

Not that I want to stop taking the meds. I'll take lazy over terrified and starving any day of the week...

so close and yet so far

It lasted about 10 days...

For 10 days I would have said without hesitation that I was recovered.

It was amazing! I was relaxed. I was busy thinking about the holidays and xmas presents and there was no thoughts wasted on calories and rules. I ate without giving it a second thought. I didn't even want to weigh myself - I couldn't be bothered with that rubbish. Why would I care? I was so happy it was ridiculous :)

And then I got really busy at work and didn't take the time to eat, and by the time I got home it was all gone again. I struggled to eat dinner. I told myself I had been so good all day why ruin it now. The magic was gone and the ED was let back in.

J (my therapist) tried to ask me about those 10 days but I couldn't talk about them. I just cried at what I had lost. How happy I had been made me so sad to remember now that it is gone again.

J assures me that being able to string together so many days like that means that I will get it back again. It is not lost forever. I am close.

I'm trying to work back through my mind exactly what I was doing and thinking in those days leading up to when I felt recovered so I can repeat those things to try to recapture the feeling - but the ED thoughts are working very hard to confuse me. I keep thinking how much I want to go back to that recovered feeling only to realise that I am actively doing all the same ED habits I do when I'm trying not to go back.

so close and yet so far

sigh...

If I read one more tweet/blog that tells me I'm not "REAL" I'm going to scream!

I've got my ranty pants on today - and unlike the last time I blogged something to this effect I'm not going to let you make me feel bad about myself.

I've just read those damn words again:

"real women have curves"

But so many of you who say this also say you advocate "Size Acceptance" and "Health at Every Size"?

Interesting.

Now for those of you who just say you advocate for "Fat Acceptance" I don't mind this in the least. You are not implying that you speak for me. As a fat woman you have every right to push back against societal stereotypes and inequities - and you know what - I support you! I think society is very unfair, biased and down-right appalling in it's general treatment of fat people.

But I'm here (complete with ranty pants) to tell you that if you want to speak for "Heath at EVERY size" you sure better include MY size in that - as well as EVERYONE elses.

Because I exist.  

And what is it exactly that you think makes you a MORE real woman than me?

I'm a woman.

I have had three babies.

I have a loving husband and wonderful friends.

I laugh and love and cry and dream.

I am strong.

I have a career I love.

I am getting healthier every day.

I am not the size of my trousers any more than you are!

And don't you dare say that I am a fat-hater. At no point anywhere in my blog or in my life have I judged anyone by their size. You know nothing of my history or my experiences. So that won't ever be justification for how inferior you have tried to make me feel.

This issue has nothing to do with being fat or being skinny. It's about accepting people for who they are - regardless of size. That REAL WOMEN come in all shapes and sizes, and being skinny does not make you less, any more than being fat does.

So if you think it is offensive for someone to judge you based on your size, well guess what sister - that's exactly what you just did to me  - and I am offended. And you are a hypocrite.

Your words have power, and meaning, and they hurt.

And if you insist on telling me you are more real than I am I will call you on it. I have found my voice and I am not afraid to be me anymore.

I am not better than you. But I sure as hell am not any less real than you either.

my golden rule

PJ's Golden Rule: when in doubt ask yourself 

"do I want to do this for the rest of my life?"

I'm suddenly really scared of food again. I was doing quite well with my eating, I put on some weight, and then a little bit more, and then a little bit more, and then I got scared.

Somewhere along the line I seem to have apparently decided that to be 'safe' I need to be really 'careful' about what I eat. Yes, I still want to eat, but to stop myself from going overboard (whatever that may mean) I need to be really particular about how much I eat, when I eat it and then how much exercise I do. I've even been writing it down so I can keep track of it and make sure that I have what I think is enough but not any more - just to be on the safe side.

And I don't know about you, but that sounds distinctly like an eating disorder to me.

So even though I don't actually think I'm doing anything dangerous - I'm not restricting and I'm not over-exercising, and from the outside I probably look like I'm doing a really good job - but if I apply my golden rule, the answer would have to be "no"; this is not what I want to do for the rest of my life. This is only existing. This is not living. I'm trying much too hard to do everything 'right'. But I want to be free from even this level of stress and need to control what I eat.

So for the first time in about 10 weeks I'm going to see my dietician (M) to talk to her about this. My instinct is to tell her I'm so afraid of putting on weight she needs to give me a meal plan which I can follow and remove some of that worry - hand over the decision making to her and let her calculate exactly what I can eat to maintain my current weight and not put on any more.

But that's not the answer.

That's not what I want to do for the rest of my life either.

So what is the answer? I don't know. But I think telling M everything that I just wrote here would be a very good start...

7 observations of ED recovery - from a partner's perspective

PJ's pretty amazing, don't you think? I do.

But I wasn't so sure about writing something for her blog. It's not really my thing. She asked me to write a top 10 observations of ED recovery from my perspective, to match her recent posts So with a bit of a struggle, I've come up with a top 7. Yes, I can count and I know that 7 is not 10. 7 is not even my favourite number. But it is what it is, a bit like life.

1. Rational/irrational
The rational person will always struggle with the irrational. ED is irrational. PJ's the most rational person I know. Don't confuse the two - but that can be easier said than done some days.

2. It's an illness with a label, but what does it mean?
It follows from the rational bit, but simply labelling ED as ED doesn't really provide a meaningful explanation of some of the stuff we've seen. Labels are really not useful. Not useful in ED, and not really useful in life either - life and ED are more complex than a two letter acronym.
There's some stuff on the web, but PJ's blog is hopefully helping others figure out what it means.

3. Life experiences
I don't quite know when it happened, but I've noticed that I'm not the young buck any more at work. (No snide comments about nose hairs either, thanks!) I've been around a while, and seen a bit. The curmudgeonly old man has come out occasionally recently, and I don't quite remember getting older. And I still don't get Twitter or Facebook.
But life experience is useful, and age has softened my views on plenty of things. PJ and I have been through plenty of highs and lows and everything in-between. We'll get through this challenge too. We're probably just as stubborn as each other and that's a good thing in dealing with ED.

4. The paradox of expectations
For those of you who don't know Seth Godin, you really should follow him. His daily aphorisms are succinct and thought provoking on life, marketing and business. His 30 Oct blog was particularly apt … http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2011/10/the-paradox-of-expectations.html:

"Low expectations are often a self-fulfilling prophecy. We insulate ourselves from failure, don't try as hard, brace for the worst and often get it.
High expectations, on the other hand, will inevitably lead to disappointment. Keep raising what you expect and sooner or later (probably sooner) it's not going to happen. And we know that a good outcome that's less than the great one we hoped for actually feels like failure.
Perhaps it's worth considering no expectations. Intense effort followed by an acceptance of what you get in return. It doesn't make good TV, but it's a discipline that can turn you into a professional."

I think that this can easily translate to tacking ED - it's not going to be a quick fix, but discipline/sticking with it will lead to recovery. Celebrate the good outcomes, and a great one will come along too … in time. Reaching out for help, finding educated/skilled helpers, networking and writing about ED are all good outcomes.

5. Humour
There's nothing funny about ED. Nothing.  
In a self-reflective moment I've been thinking that we're going to need to find more ways to lighten up and laugh a bit. Putting ED aside (if it was only that easy, hey), life's not bad. It's a little like that expectations thing … laugh at the funny bits, be appropriately serious at the serious bits, but seek out more of the funny than the serious.

6. Find what works
 I read somewhere (it's that old age thing again) recently something along the lines of coffee, tea and water will help you work things out; drinking spirits will not. To quote the web forums … YMMV  (I'm old enough to understand forums, as I started out with dial up BBSs - you do know what they are don't you?). 
 And what works today, might not work tomorrow. Adjust. Refine. And adjust again. We won't be fixed into a single course of action. Mix it up.

7. The F-word
No, not that F-word. The other one … feelings. I'm bloody hopeless at talking about them. I'm an Aussie man, with a stiff-upper-lip kind of upbringing and professional training. Talking about feelings might be a sign of weakness that might be exploited - isn't that right? Guys don't really talk about feelings do they? Perhaps we should … perhaps I should. Would it help or would the incompetence from a severe lack of practice get in the way of being constructive for PJ?
Listening to PJ (which I actually do every now and again, but could probably do much, much better), it sounds like we might need to have a F-word conversation. Now that's going to be uncomfortable for me … but this isn't about me, is it.


And there it is. The blog post I really didn't think that I'd ever be able to write. 
Again, I know it's 7 not 10. Who's counting?

 

the impending guest post

Stephen Fry left his wallet on the plane on his return trip from Australia recently. His tweet to this effect started:

Oh Jesus arsemothering fuck...

and right about now this is exactly how I feel. Why? Because for better or for worse I have just asked Mr PJ to write a guest post for my blog. I told him just to be honest about the ED experience from his perspective - and that it didn't have to be nice, because the bad stuff is every bit as valid a part of his experience as the good.

So hold your breath with me please people, because he said yes...

learning to trust

Rewind to Dec of last year. It was my second ever visit to my first therapist, K, and my toddler was sick so I had to take her along with me. She just had a rash, she was actually fine, but rash automatically means 'no creche'. The session went ok. I had been pretty organised and brought along enough food and activities to keep her amused. And apart from one trip and fall and cry towards the end, toddler was pretty good. But in the back of my mind I was worried about the inconvenience I was causing by having her there. And right at the end this back-of-my-mind thought came right up to the front.

K leaned back in her chair and said "I just want to tell you..."

and then: pause...

in that split second pause I managed to think a thousand thoughts: starting with "oh sh*t here it comes" and progressing at lightning speed to "I don't care what she says, I don't have to come back here any way". In that split second I imagined she was going to tell me how bringing along my toddler showed a lack of commitment to my recovery and she wouldn't be able to continue to work with me. In that split second I put up a wall so big I was ready to get up and walk out and not even let her finish her sentence.

So when she finished with "...I think you're a really good mother" I was so shocked I actually blurted out "I thought you were going to tell me off".

Fast forward to last week's session with J - and the identical situation arose. Toddler was too sick to go to creche and I had to take her to my session. Again I tried to keep toddler amused, but this time I was very conscious that toddler really was quite sick so I was more than willing to put her needs ahead of the effectiveness of the session.

And sure enough, towards the end of the session J made a comment, and then there was *that* pause.

Two very interesting things have sprung up from this pause however:

Firstly, I was able to catch my thoughts this time. Yes I drew breath, but I was able to remind myself that my worst fear didn't eventuate last time so it was unlikely to eventuate this time. Relax and wait and see what she says.
And secondly the moment came and went, and I don't actually remember what was said. I remember the moment, I remember my feelings, but the exact words have faded. They are not indelibly etched on my brain; burned into my memory for all time. The terror of the first situation was not there this time.

I have learned to trust. Trust that J is not just faking being nice to me and will turn on me at any moment. Trust that I am not doing anything wrong that I will get into trouble for. I can trust her to help me and support me with kindness and constructive advice - not just put me down and bully me as a means of motivating me to excel simply to avoid the shame of failure.

I trust J. Yes I still hold a lot back from her - and I probably always will. But at least I know that the bits I chose to share with her will be heard and dealt with fairly and non judgmentally. So even if the wall never comes all the way down, it's certainly getting smaller.