Hey everyone~
I'm sorry that I've been away for so long, but I had a family emergency that I had to leave town for. The day after my last post, my father had a heart attack and had to be taken to the ER. However, once he was there, it became apparent that his condition was much more serious than it initially presented-and scans revealed that all four of his arteries were close to 98% blocked. He had to have an emergency quadruple-bypass, and myself and my three siblings flew to be with him and my mother at the hospital, as the doctors were not optimistic about his chances given his age (he turned 70 in December) and health (high blood pressure, high cholesterol, overweight, etc).
Although it has been an extremely difficult few weeks, I am overjoyed to report that my Dad has proven the doctors wrong, and is finally gaining his strength back. Since my Mom works full time and we can't afford an at-home nurse, I stayed to take care of him at home until he was strong enough and well enough to get back his independence. He has a long road ahead still, and his doctors say that he'll probably need another month of bedrest and physical therapy until he can return to work-but has made so much progress! I'm so thankful to still have him with us, and now that he has been doing consistently well, I've been able to come home.
I wanted to thank those who commented and offered advice or support in my last post regarding my possible job relocation. In light of everything that happened immediately after, I declined the offer to work in Boston, and am instead looking into taking something in Miami--so that I can be closer to my parents. That way, I could help my Mom and Dad if they need anything, or just be there incase anything unexpected happens again with my Dad's health. So, it looks like I'll be moving anyway, just not to the Northeast.
Now, how has this all affected my ED and weight? Not very well, I'm afraid. As you can imagine, my ED symptoms have been pretty out of control with all of this stress. Before, I had gotten my bingeing and purging down to all-time low, and was mainly ristricting with exercise. I had been losing weight, and was on my way to my goal of 95 lbs by May 10th...oh, imagine that...today. Well, it all went downhill pretty quickly starting with the immediate minutes after I got the phone call from my Mom that my Dad was in surgery. To make a very long story with countless excuses short, I pretty much went back to lots of bingeing on comfort foods, sometimes up to 5 times a day-and was often too exhausted to purge as thoroughly as I usually do, or sometimes even at all. This resulted in my gaining back some of the weight that I had lost, and I'm currently at 108 lbs.
I have really mixed feelings about this in a lot of ways. First, after seeing my father come so close to losing his life, and watching his strength and determination to live, part of me feels like an evil, ungrateful, petty excuse for a human being to even be thinking about my weight. But I suppose that is what is so debilitating about this disorder. Then, with as much bingeing as I was doing, part of me is actually kind of shocked and impressed in a strange way that I only gained 4 lbs, as it definitely felt like at least 10. When I finally got the courage to weigh myself after coming home, I wasn't thrilled-but I was relieved. And, finally, I am of course disappointed in myself for losing so much control and gaining any weight at all-and that I have to start all over with new goals and new dates.
I have started going through all of my clothes and sorting them according to what should be donated, sold, and kept. I have drawers, suitcases, baskets, and huge sections of my closet just filled with things that don't fit me-whether they are too small or too big. I went to Target and spent almost $100 on some new workout clothes and equipment, and justified it by promising myself that for each new piece of clothing I bought I had to get rid of 4 old things, and that for each piece of equipment I got, I had to lose 3 lbs.
I know that I work best when I have goals to reach and some sort of tangible occasion or reward at the end, so right now I am focusing on one of my best friends' wedding. She is getting married on June 12th, and it is this incredible "destination wedding" in Antigua. It is going to be absolutely gorgeous, and is obviously very tropical-which means a lot of sun, bathing suits, and "vacation" clothes. At the current moment, I would rather die than be seen in a bathing suit. But I refuse to have this trip and her day ruined by my insecurities-so I am starting back on my previous regimen as of today with the goal of being 99 lbs by the time I leave for Antigua. The way I see it, that is 9 lbs in a month, which seems pretty reasonable and not too outlandish. I don't want to set myself up for failure by trying to be 90-95 by then, because I'll just drive myself crazy. Well, crazier. Ha.
Speaking of crazy, has anyone ever done colon hydrotherapy, also called colonics? It's something I saw for the first time on some documentary about the expensive outlandish things that Hollywood stars do to lose weight...so of course I looked up anything that boasted ridiculous results. Well, with colon hydrotherapy, there were accounts of losing between 5-20lbs in one visit! I know, I know...probably too good to be true. But, I started researching it and found a place locally that does it-and it's not as absurdly priced as I expected it to be-only $75 per session. Now, don't get me wrong, $75 is still a lot...but no more than I've spent on food, supplements, clothes, etc on any given day.
For anyone who doesn't know what I'm talking about, here is a link. It's a little too awkward to explain in detail. Basically though. its a really intense 45 minute enema. Now, as gross and potentially embarrassing as the whole thing sounds, I just can't help but wonder if that would all be worth it to lose 5-20lbs in ONE HOUR! Well, I called and made an appointment for 9am this Wednesday, May 12th. For all the money I've wasted on other stuff that hasn't worked, and on food I've just thrown up, I figure what the hell, it's worth a try. So, I will be sure to write a post reviewing my experience, and whether or not it actually results in any weight loss.
I think this post is more than long enough for now, so tomorrow I will be sure to discuss my new diet and exercise plan, as well as some new products I'm trying. Thank you again for your support!
LM
Showing posts with label mental illness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mental illness. Show all posts
Monday, May 10, 2010
Saturday, April 10, 2010
"For some, love fades; for others love is simply lost"
What is funny is that when I first thought of writing this post, I had thought that a post not having to do with weight or food might be a refreshing divergence of my train of thought. Then, when I actually sat down to write it and thought about what to say, I realized that this still, at its core, has EVERYTHING to do with weight and food. So the story goes.
I could write a dissertation's worth of background information and explanations, but I will spare you 10 years worth of history. In short, I've only ever been in love one time, with one person. In true cliche fashion, I fell in love with them in the seventh grade before I even knew what love was, and stayed in love with them the rest of my life. I've dated others briefly in that time, but never let anyone get too close. I've always kept my relationships very shallow, because (as terrible as it sounds) I've always known going into it that it wasn't going to last.
Well, my love, henceforth to be referred to as "J" (clever, I know) and I have had quite a Romeo & Juliet journey, with various obstacles throughout the years keeping one or both of us from being able to be in a relationship...with anyone, let alone with each other. However, about 3 years ago it had finally seemed like the stars were aligning for us. I truly, perhaps stupidly, thought that we would finally be together. What ensued was pretty heartbreaking, and its difficult for me to think about it. We basically got incredibly close, exchanged mutual feelings of unrequited love for each other, and were on the brink of finally beginning a romantic relationship.
Yet, despite having shared things with J that I'd never even considered discussing with anyone else, and having this feeling of "kindred souls," there was one thing that I couldn't bring myself to disclose, and that was my eating disorder. We had a mutual acquaintance that had struggled with bulimia and gone to treatment, and whom we happened to not particularly like, and J always thought it was funny to joke about. I callously laughed along, and even made some of my own jokes at her expense, all the while telling myself that I could never, ever let my own ED be known.
J had a family history of mental illness, as do I, and it was always an area that we both bonded over but were very sensitive about at the same time. In addition to my struggles with food, I've been diagnosed with various other *things* over the years, some that I believe and others that I don't. One of them happens to be the same thing that J's father suffers from, and because of that, J had/has a lot of negative and painful memories associated with it in childhood. I realized that no matter how much I loved J, it wasn't fair of me to not disclose information about myself that could potentially be a source of very big problems in the future.
So, as I am prone to do, and can't really justify, I completely fell off the face of the earth with no explanation whatsoever. I stopped returning J's calls, blocked their AIM account, stopped all e-mails and text messages...just went from spending at least 4 hours of every day with each other to no contact at all in span of 24 hours. Then I put myself in treatment. After about a month in treatment, I finally got up the nerve to call J and explain myself. When I did, I was met with so much more understanding than I ever imagined. J even dropped everything and traveled 5 hours the next day to visit me. I thought everything was finally going to be OK.
Well, treatment wasn't exactly the magical quick-fix that J had hoped it would be, and once I got out, I think J thought I would be "cured." But as I continued to have daily struggles, and because now I felt like I could finally talk about it, more and more of our conversations came to, at least in part, involve my ED, therapy, meds, etc. Like a lot of brothers and sisters out there struggling not only with ED but other issues, I have been and still am very resistant to medication, which became a really big source of disagreement between us, mostly because of the awful things J's father had done while unmedicated.
We had been growing more and more distant, and finally about a year ago I ODed in the bathroom of a bar and was hospitalized for the third time in about a 6-month period, which was then followed by being Baker Acted to a pysch ward. I called from there crying, asking J to please come visit me.
"No."
That one simple word, and I knew that it was over. I realized that this was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. When I got out, I tried for weeks to reach J. Nothing...the tables had certainly turned, and it really sucked being on that side of a communication cut-off.
Its now been almost exactly a year since we last spoke. I try not to think about it, and for the most part I like to think that I've at least partially gotten over it. I've moved on in a lot of ways: I no longer spend entire days crying in a fetal position thinking about J, I don't spend hours in bed at night thinking about all the "what if's" anymore, I finally stopped expecting J to have a sudden change of heart and remorsefully contact me, and I've largely accepted that it just wasn't meant to be.
Well, of course once I finally reached sort of a healthy mindset regarding what went down with J, I sign into my e-mail account yesterday to find...what? An e-mail from J. No subject. Just J's e-mail address in the "sender" section, staring at me. After all the progess I thought I had made, just seeing J's name and e-mail address made my heart completely skip a beat. I came close to bursting into tears as my mind screamed "FINALLY!!!!!!"
I briefly fantasized about what it would say, whether or not J was even still in town, if there would be an apology, maybe a peace-offering coffee date? Want to know what it said?
Nothing. An empty e-mail with nothing but a link that wouldn't load. I've come to the conclusion that it was probably just some stupid spam from J's account getting hacked or something. Sigh. I'm such a fucking idiot.
You know what the saddest part is? That I've been dealing with this by stopping all eating, and spending all my free time exercising. The same fucking bullshit that made me lose J to begin with. Somewhere in my twisted mind I still think, if I can just get thin enough, if I can just be pretty enough, if I can just prove that I'm good at SOMETHING...maybe someone will love me again one day.
One of my favorite movies is "The Holiday" with Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz. I know, its really cheesy. I just love Kate Winslet's character so much, and I know the movie pretty much word-for-word. The title of this post is something she says while narrating. The full quotation is:
True story.
LM
.
I could write a dissertation's worth of background information and explanations, but I will spare you 10 years worth of history. In short, I've only ever been in love one time, with one person. In true cliche fashion, I fell in love with them in the seventh grade before I even knew what love was, and stayed in love with them the rest of my life. I've dated others briefly in that time, but never let anyone get too close. I've always kept my relationships very shallow, because (as terrible as it sounds) I've always known going into it that it wasn't going to last.
Well, my love, henceforth to be referred to as "J" (clever, I know) and I have had quite a Romeo & Juliet journey, with various obstacles throughout the years keeping one or both of us from being able to be in a relationship...with anyone, let alone with each other. However, about 3 years ago it had finally seemed like the stars were aligning for us. I truly, perhaps stupidly, thought that we would finally be together. What ensued was pretty heartbreaking, and its difficult for me to think about it. We basically got incredibly close, exchanged mutual feelings of unrequited love for each other, and were on the brink of finally beginning a romantic relationship.
Yet, despite having shared things with J that I'd never even considered discussing with anyone else, and having this feeling of "kindred souls," there was one thing that I couldn't bring myself to disclose, and that was my eating disorder. We had a mutual acquaintance that had struggled with bulimia and gone to treatment, and whom we happened to not particularly like, and J always thought it was funny to joke about. I callously laughed along, and even made some of my own jokes at her expense, all the while telling myself that I could never, ever let my own ED be known.
J had a family history of mental illness, as do I, and it was always an area that we both bonded over but were very sensitive about at the same time. In addition to my struggles with food, I've been diagnosed with various other *things* over the years, some that I believe and others that I don't. One of them happens to be the same thing that J's father suffers from, and because of that, J had/has a lot of negative and painful memories associated with it in childhood. I realized that no matter how much I loved J, it wasn't fair of me to not disclose information about myself that could potentially be a source of very big problems in the future.
So, as I am prone to do, and can't really justify, I completely fell off the face of the earth with no explanation whatsoever. I stopped returning J's calls, blocked their AIM account, stopped all e-mails and text messages...just went from spending at least 4 hours of every day with each other to no contact at all in span of 24 hours. Then I put myself in treatment. After about a month in treatment, I finally got up the nerve to call J and explain myself. When I did, I was met with so much more understanding than I ever imagined. J even dropped everything and traveled 5 hours the next day to visit me. I thought everything was finally going to be OK.
Well, treatment wasn't exactly the magical quick-fix that J had hoped it would be, and once I got out, I think J thought I would be "cured." But as I continued to have daily struggles, and because now I felt like I could finally talk about it, more and more of our conversations came to, at least in part, involve my ED, therapy, meds, etc. Like a lot of brothers and sisters out there struggling not only with ED but other issues, I have been and still am very resistant to medication, which became a really big source of disagreement between us, mostly because of the awful things J's father had done while unmedicated.
We had been growing more and more distant, and finally about a year ago I ODed in the bathroom of a bar and was hospitalized for the third time in about a 6-month period, which was then followed by being Baker Acted to a pysch ward. I called from there crying, asking J to please come visit me.
"No."
That one simple word, and I knew that it was over. I realized that this was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. When I got out, I tried for weeks to reach J. Nothing...the tables had certainly turned, and it really sucked being on that side of a communication cut-off.
Its now been almost exactly a year since we last spoke. I try not to think about it, and for the most part I like to think that I've at least partially gotten over it. I've moved on in a lot of ways: I no longer spend entire days crying in a fetal position thinking about J, I don't spend hours in bed at night thinking about all the "what if's" anymore, I finally stopped expecting J to have a sudden change of heart and remorsefully contact me, and I've largely accepted that it just wasn't meant to be.
Well, of course once I finally reached sort of a healthy mindset regarding what went down with J, I sign into my e-mail account yesterday to find...what? An e-mail from J. No subject. Just J's e-mail address in the "sender" section, staring at me. After all the progess I thought I had made, just seeing J's name and e-mail address made my heart completely skip a beat. I came close to bursting into tears as my mind screamed "FINALLY!!!!!!"
I briefly fantasized about what it would say, whether or not J was even still in town, if there would be an apology, maybe a peace-offering coffee date? Want to know what it said?
N
o
t
h
i
n
g
Nothing. An empty e-mail with nothing but a link that wouldn't load. I've come to the conclusion that it was probably just some stupid spam from J's account getting hacked or something. Sigh. I'm such a fucking idiot.
You know what the saddest part is? That I've been dealing with this by stopping all eating, and spending all my free time exercising. The same fucking bullshit that made me lose J to begin with. Somewhere in my twisted mind I still think, if I can just get thin enough, if I can just be pretty enough, if I can just prove that I'm good at SOMETHING...maybe someone will love me again one day.
One of my favorite movies is "The Holiday" with Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz. I know, its really cheesy. I just love Kate Winslet's character so much, and I know the movie pretty much word-for-word. The title of this post is something she says while narrating. The full quotation is:
For some quite inexplicably, love fades; for others love is simply lost. But then of course love can also be found, even if just for the night. And then, there's another kind of love: the cruelest kind. The one that almost kills its victims. Its called unrequited love.
True story.
LM
.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
