Update

My recent trip to Utah was a much needed event for many reasons. While maybe not the most financially intelligent decision, it brought me boundless joy and happiness to be with my best friend, and true health and peace of mind to see and hear her children laughing once more. My choice to go was solely because I just needed to see Steph and breath in air that had was graced by mountains. It turned out though to be a wonderful experiment as far as how traveling, and the inevitable change it brings to my daily routine, would affect me physically and mentally.

I’ve already posted the events of what took place and my thoughts pre, during and after my trip. Now time for the epilogue; I lost weight. I won’t go into numbers, but in the two weeks that I went without a weight check I lost more weight than I am ever aware of having lost in that amount of time. When I first found out I felt like someone had yanked the solid concrete ground I stood on out from under me, I was shocked, and to be honest I still have a hard time believing it (and she doesn’t believe it at all).

Despite what I had just learned, adding extra food still felt more daunting than being told I’d have to run a marathon with an iron anchor strapped to my back and a ball and chain wrapped round both anchors. I managed to have a couple extra spoonfuls of peanut butter with my night snack (seriously, thank you God for providing this world with peanut butter). I tried really hard to let myself sit more and move less, and I was slightly successful. There were quite a few nights my legs were worn out to the point of pain and they just couldn’t bear my weight any longer. But of course, the fact that my body hurt like that was just one more sign that I wasn’t healthy. On Friday the number on the scale didn’t change, I hadn’t lost more but I hadn’t gained either. When I got that message from my therapist I told her I would try really hard to make sure that next time there would be weight gain. It had to be done, I knew, and I was motivated to see it happen.

But of course the motivation is always strongest on that first day. Saturday I got lucky and felt pretty good about my plan too. It was my birthday and I had lobster for dinner, gelato for the first time in months and a chocolate chip cookie with peanut butter on top for my “cake”. It was delicious, and I proved to her that the world didn’t end with my eating those dangerous foods. She kept quiet that night, let me have my way, but only because she was gearing up for a fresh attack Sunday.

This past week the invisible impression left by the echo of a thousand footsteps on the path between my kitchen counter to my fridge has become deeper as I’ve listened to her voice and gone back to the fridge to grab the smaller apple and the snack that’s the lesser calorie option, only to turn right back around to pick back up that bigger piece of fruit and the snack I’d originally chose, fighting back with my own voice and strength because I know I need to gain weight and to do that means I have to eat more food.

In addition to my extra peanut butter, I’ve added another snack to my day. In attempt for a little more variety in my snack choices I actually bought some fear foods that definitely cause an uptick in my blood pressure when I eat then (whole wheat english muffins, yikes!). I know that fear is a good thing, choosing to have them despite her outrage merely adds more fuel to my fire to fight her.

I wasn't always been successful. There were bites of oatmeal uneaten, a day a few almonds went untouched, and on some of those many trips to and from the fridge it was the smallest apple chosen.

An extra wrench was added to it all when I came down with a sore throat Tuesday that refused to abate, if anything got worse, as the week progressed. Up until then I had felt physically healthier, more energetic, imbued with greater strength. Sadly that went away on Tuesday; since that night my energy has waned dramatically.

I have tried so hard to listen to what my body was telling me. I did sit more, but she just about killed me for it. I woke up Thursday really wanting to work out (and it wasn't just her either), but I knew doing so was not the right way to take care of my body. So I had coffee and went back to bed for 40 minutes. Definitely the best choice but she made me feel cheated all day. I still walked though, as much as I normally do each day, and I know that likely did more harm than good.

Good and bad together, I thought I was holding my own. Apparently I wasn't. My weight did go down again this week. It was only a little amount, tiny really, but taking into account what's happened this past month even a little is scary. So it's back to the Ensure again. I stopped at the store right after work on Friday to pick some up. I got home and drank one right away, and they will be a daily part of my intake from now, possibly until I leave for Norway.

 This morning I woke up to find my sore throat progressed into a full on cold with my head and thoughts full of fog. Yet even in the throes of a cold, she isn't giving me a break. If anything I have to fight extra hard First thing I did was drink my Ensure, definitely a win for me. I was scheduled to volunteer at the humane society and strongly flirted with the idea of not going, to just stay home and rest, but partly because I felt bad at not keeping to my commitment to volunteer and partly because of her, I rallied and went. I think I'll call that one a draw. Later at home, after a shower and food, she did everything in her power to force me to go out walking, filling my mind with the truth of what a lazy failure I'd be otherwise. Instead, I was kind to myself, I walked over to my big blue lounge chair and took a nap. It's been hours since I woke and I'm still suffering from her unceasing insults and put downs. Eating the rest of today is going to be especially difficult because of this; I will do it though.

Despite what difficulties this next week may bring, I have a goal that I will make sure I meet. Actually I have two, the first a requirement for the second one to be possible. First, I will gain weight this week, because (and here's the second) I am determined to go to Norway healthy, and come back healthy. Maybe because the reality of Norway is coming ever closer, or perhaps it is simply that I have entered a new stage in the fight for recovery, but this fight I am on has a new taste to it.

Before, in earlier months, it was almost like I was walking barefoot over burning coals while trying to dodge the bolts of acid lightning falling all around me, and never a second of peace. Now it’s more like a long, seemingly endless trek through the driest desert imaginable. A place where I’m being taunted each mile by the sight of an oasis promising the most restful shade, coldest water and total beauty. Each one I pass is more perfectly exquisite than the one before it, only I know that theirs is a lying promise, that holds only fatal poison. So I go on, thirsty, exhausted past comprehension and with only the thread of a hope that a real oasis, one full of true peace, rest, and comfort is somewhere ahead of me.

But I guess this change in the tenor of my fight adds a little more to that small hope. The raw pain has faded into something new, something slightly more bearable. I also know that the moments I feel the desire to give up, to go back to that empty shadowed life where she ran free, happen less and less. That is a gift greater than gold, and one that will lift me through future challenges and into the horizon of full recovery.