A Secret Door

Most nights I can be found sitting by my window lost in the pages of a book. While usually immune to the happenings going on in the street below me, I sometimes find my concentration broken by the flickering on or off of the street light across my way.

In design and color it looks just like all the other lamp-posts who start their glowing nightly guard of Maine street in the early evening hours. But with this one there is a slight difference, it doesn't always stay lit. Once off it stays that way for sometime before once more coming to life. The most likely explanation for this is simply a faulty bit of wiring, something in the mechanics of the post itself that doesn't quite work the way it's supposed to. I however, have come up with another possibility, one that is much less likely, almost definitely impossible, yet infinitely better. Magic.

Growing up I, like millions, was charmed by the story of The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. The idea of being able to walk into a closet and out into a world so fantastically different from our own, is one I have hoped for ever since I first read those words. What stuck with me in that story, almost as much as the idea of getting into Narnia itself, was what Lucy first saw when she arrived. A lone black lamp-post shining among the snow and the trees. The random on and off of my own lamp-post has sparked in my mind the idea that it isn't just some innocuous piece of metal and electricity, but rather a symbol, a gate to enter some more magical world.

What is if is a sign, to those much more in the know than we, that a different dimension, another universe, is once more open to crossing over. What if the light turns off when the secret entrance is closed and turns back on once more when the magical key has been turned to unlock it's hidden door. Or it could be the opposite, the light turns off when one is about to cross over so that we don't see them disappear into nothing. What if all one had to do was know the exact right spot to look when that light turned back on in the deep hours of midnight, know the secret steps to take, the right way to knock. Just imagine the possibilities, think of all the different things one could see and discover if that one lamp-post was not at all what it appeared. 

An Unexpected Gift

A couple days ago I started reading "The Edible Woman" by Margaret Atwood. It was a book I'd read a very intriguing recommendation on and since I'd devoured "A Handmaids Tale" years ago I immediately put in a request for it at my library. Segue here: for an example of just how much of an issue I have when it comes to my library books, when I got the e-mail notifying me that the book had come I was surprised; I had so many other requests out, and so many other books had been put on my list of books to read, that I had forgotten about this book entirely. Anyway back to my main point. I had picked up the book on Sunday and just read a few pages, so it wasn't until last night that I made my discovery, well two actually.

The first was that there are apparently others like me that like to underline certain passages in the books they read, and at least one person who has no qualms with doing that to a library book as this particular copy is filled with such markings. I only wish I was that brave. I had curled up the in bed and picked up the book to read when the second finding fell onto my lap...

From what I have read so far, this list is probably made in reference to the characters and their story, but isn't it also the perfect list for someone who is fighting to overcome an eating disorder?! I am just so grateful for this serendipitous little gift that literally fell into my hands. 

As far as how I am doing, thinks are OK. I am eating what I need to and have held steady weight wise. I am of course convinced that I have gained 10 pounds in the last week. I realize I say that every week and that so far that has never happened (at least not since Mercy - there I'm not so sure), but it really does feel like it this time. I am finding it next to impossible to feel comfortable in my own skin at all, and other than maybe a few moments right when I wake up or just before falling asleep, self-comfort and acceptance don't really exist in my mind. I do hope that changes, this is not a very fun way to live. Maybe that's why the universe sent me this list, to give me the extra bit of wisdom I need to find my way back to myself again.

The Book of Lost Things

It is not often when reading that genuine shivers of fear race through my veins, not fear for myself, but rather the characters facing known or, to them at least,

unknown dangers. When this does happen it is usually because their is a story, a world, that I have come to believe truly exists somewhere in the universe.

Normally when I read a book, the characters in that story cease to be simple words on a page and instead transform into real, living, breathing individuals who have graciously allowed me into their lives if only for a brief period of time. Usually though, once I have finished reading their story they turn back into words within pages and live only as a memory in my mind. But sometimes, I stumble across a character whose life and world are so incredible that I know that even once I reach that last page and am no longer allowed to follow their footsteps, they are still out there in another world - walking, talking, breathing, existing. I have to believe that, because the alternative is simply to devastating to consider.  Out of all the books I have read, very few have the honor of holding such a special place within my heart. "The Book of Lost Things" by John Connolly has just surpassed the odds and made that list.

Quite some time ago, I had mentioned on this blog the awesome service the Brooklyn Public Library offers readers, that by filling out an online form with books and authors you've loved - and those you haven't - a librarian then creates a reading list of recommendations just for you. Weeks ago, I decided it was high time that I actually use that list for something other than just looking at. It was time to pick a book to read. "The Book of Lost Things" was the one that seemed most intriguing to me so, decision made, I skipped down to my library to get it. Of course, at the time I  was already deep into the pages of a several other books so it sat on my bookshelf for a few weeks before I was free to open the cover and see what excitement it's pages could offer. And, as you may already have guessed, I love it.

The story is captivating, enthralling, and has all the elements of what it takes for me to fall in love with a book. There is magic mixed with reality, there is darkness, the stories of Snowhite, Sleeping Beauty, Rumpilstiltskin and others are peeled back to reveal the sometimes awful truth behind their legends, there is fear destroyed, and love discovered(although in this case not the romantic kind). And of course there are words set together in such a way that my heart grows calm with their truth or my imagination explodes with the possibilities they promise. Needless to say, I highly recommend this book to anyone, but just in case you never get a chance to delve into it's pages - or you just need a little more encouragement - here a few of my favorite passages...


"And David could tell, by looking at her face as she read, whether or not the story contained in the book was living inside her, and she in it, and he would recall again all that she had told him about stories and tales and the power that they wiled over us, and that we in turn wield over them."

~~~~

"The window seat was David's favorite place in which to read. The books still whispered and spoke among themselves, but he was now able to hush them with a single word if his mood was right, and anyway they tended to remain quiet while he was reading. It was as if they were happy once he was consuming stories." 

~~~~

"And in the dark corners of his dreams, a shadow capered, and it threw its crooked hat in the air with glee."

~~~~

" 'We all have our routines,' he said softly. 'But they must have a purpose and provide an outcome that we can see and take some comfort from, or else they have no use at all. Without that, they are like the endless pacings of a caged animal. If they are not madness itself, then they are a prelude to it.' " 

~~~~

"How could he explain his sense that the Beast was familiar to him, that there was a corner of his imagination where the creature had found an echo of herself?"

~~~~

"She was very cold, colder even than when she had lain in her open coffin, so cold that the touch of her was painful to him. It numbed his lips and stilled his tongue, and his breath turned to crystals of ice that sparkled like tiny diamonds in the still air."

~~~~

"Snow sparkled in the eternal dusk, and icicles hung like frozen tears from the bushes and the trees." 

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"And the Crooked Man heard her dreams, because that was where he wandered. His place was the land of the imagination, the world where stories began. The stories were always looking for a way to be told, to be brought to life through books and reading. That was how they crossed over from their world into ours. But with them came the Crooked Man, prowling between his world and ours, looking for stories of his own to create, hunting for children who dreamed bad dreams, who were jealous and angry and proud. And he made kings and queens of them, cursing them with a kind of power, even if the real power lay always in his hands. And in return they betrayed the objects of their jealousy to him, and he took them into is lair deep beneath the castle..."

Disordered Thoughts

When you are in the midst of an eating disorder, the entirety of your thoughts are consumed by it and it's desires. You could spend an hour walking up and down Maine street, pass an afternoon ambling through the woods, or an evening watching your favorite shows, and not really take in a single thing. Instead those seconds, minutes, and hours are lost inside a constant cycle of thoughts about food. What you last ate, what you'll eat next, when you'll eat next, what foods you are allowed to have, and what you sure as hell won't touch. You're thinking about the workouts you'll need to do before and after eating so you can "earn" the calories you consume and then burn them off after. Your body screams with every step that it's hungry, that it's dying, but you're helpless to listen because your mind responds with it's beautiful lies and promises of peace, all you need to do is eat a little less, lose a little bit more.

And when you do get a chance to look outside yourself, all you can really look at are others. You observe what they're eating, if they're exercising, what they look like. You compare yourself with them in each category, a benchmark to measure just how well you are doing. You see the foods they eat and are horrified at the thought of eating something so unhealthy,  disgusted with the idea of polluting your body in such a way. You pride yourself on having so much more self-control than they do. Yet, a part of you - the healthy part - wishes for their freedom. If they exercise you find out how much and then force yourself to do more in order to prove your worth. You secretly chastise them on their days off, or for rests due to injury or illness, because as you and your disorder know - to stop for anything means you're a failure.

In the end, everything you've loved about life gets taken over by a disorder who twists that joy into a warped viewpoint, one where all that matters is how that thing you once loved helps you to succeed in your eating disorder - or threatens that success.

~~~~

I recently went out walking. Along the way I saw a man across the street navigating the sidewalks and crowds on a unicycle. I saw a new 'Help Wanted' sign posted in the door a a favorite shop. I saw two squirrels acting much like my two cats when Faelina wants to pounce and play and Synge is having none of it. I saw a single raven walking slowly atop the grass lost in avian thoughts. I saw old leaves skittering across my path on their way to more exciting places. What is so wonderful about this, is that I didn't just see those things, I registered that I did. For so long I went through each day seeing things only through a lens focused on food and exercise. For anything else to penetrate was a rare and special gift. I wonder now just how much I failed to take in during those dark months, how much I didn't see.

These days my thoughts are not all consumed by those of food an exercise, although they are more than I would like. If I could I would erase the necessity of thinking of food from my mind altogether. I eat because I have to, but I almost never enjoy it. This saddens me because I did so used to love food - and eating. This past week I've eaten what I was supposed to and some days weren't too bad, a couple were actually really good. But other days (like today), my self-confidence takes a serious dive, I feel uncomfortable, frumpy and fat; my stomach hurts, my head hurts, and my heart and mind are tired. I wish so badly I could just break free from this physical self and spend the rest of my life floating through the world carefree and shapeless. That will of course never be possible. What is though, are more moments like my walk. More experiences and adventures where I am truly living in this world rather than walking as a mere shadow behind it. I know it is going to take a long time for those days to become the norm rather than the exception, but I also know I can get there. I just have to remember that her promises are lies, while this promise is truth - is life.

News and Words

So today was the big day. At 7:30 this morning I walked into the nurses office at work and stepped onto that scale. I didn't lose anymore weight and, according to what I was told, I didn't gain any either. I stayed the same as last week which means the extra Ensure/food each day did what it was supposed to. Unfortunately, there really wouldn't have been any result that would have left me satisfied. Part of me is happy this last week of discomfort wasn't for nothing, and by that I mean that I didn't lose any more. Part of me is relieved that I didn't gain. And she is furious that the number didn't continue downward. She is also telling me that I was lied to, that I did in fact gain 10 pounds and I need to cut out that Ensure and more next week. I won't. I am determined not to let her get the best of me.

So that's my news for the weekend. Now, onto a few words from others that have resonated with me these last few days.

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"Over the years, people have asked me, "Do you really hear voices?" No, but I will say that Ed screaming in my head was way more powerful than any audible voice could have been."   ~Jenni Schaefer Life Without Ed

I talk an awful lot about my disorder and what she tells me to do, or just how loud her yelling is. I'm sure at least some of you have wandered what exactly I mean by that. Do I really hear an actual voice in my head telling me what I am and what to do - No. But what I hear is way worse, does more harm, than any actual voice - real or imagined - ever could.  

~~~~

"What had he really gained by all this trouble? What had he brought back from this long and weary journey?
Nothing, you say? Perhaps so; nothing but a charming woman, who, strange as it may appear, made him the happiest of men!
Truly, would you not for less than that make the tour around the world?"
~Jules Verne

These were the last lines of Verne's "Around the World in Eighty Days". It's the second book of his I've read, and I thoroughly enjoyed both. The way he writes evokes such vivid imagery in my mind, and I so wish I could be on the adventures his characters partake in. Though, what I loved most about this particular book were these words and their message that love really is what matters.

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" "Why are you sad?"  "Because you speak to me in words, and I look at you with feelings."  "   ~Leo Tolstoy

I remember writing about Anna Karenina last summer and being lulled under the magical spell of the words in it's pages. I ran across this line again recently and it won't stop echoing in my mind. There's power behind them. They're raw truth.

 

~~~~

That is everything with me for now. I hope you all have a wonderful weekend.

Today

For kind of a mid-week check-in on how the extra meal per day is going. To put it simply, I hate it. I am uncomfortably full all the time and most hours merely the thought of eating makes me nauseous, actually eating is even worse. I won't know for certain how much weight I've gained until Friday, but I definitely feel like I've added a good 10 pounds in the last 4 days alone. And the guilt, holy cow, I had no idea that adding another 350 calories to my day would give her so much leverage to make me feel like the most pathetic, worthless, out of control person on the planet.

I spent Sunday afternoon out with a friend so I brought my Ensure with me to drink as we were driving. It wasn’t that hard in the moment because we were having fun, there was laughter, and there was a lot of positive distraction. She was disgusted though, and as soon I swallowed that last drop, a rush of guilt went pulsing through my veins that still hasn't dissipated. She couldn't believe I'd just consumed so many calories, and she instantly began listing all of the things I should do to mitigate the damage I’d just done. I should cut out cut out lunch, or dinner, or my night snack. I should go walk for an hour when I got home. I should work out, not just an easy yoga routine either, but a hard core Jillian Michaels exercise or two or three.

Yesterday, I switched from the Ensure to actual food and had a high-calorie protein bar and fruit as soon as I got to work in the morning. Eating went ok, although I definitely didn’t enjoy it, but the impact on my thoughts afterwards was shocking. She made me feel so overwhelmingly full that even eating a salad seemed more difficult than running a marathon (she actually probably would have loved a marathon). I fought with her all day long on whether or not I should skip a side on one of my meals. I fought all day with her on how much exercise or physical activity I should do. I wanted so badly to do what she was telling me to do.I wanted her to be right.

 So far the worst thing I’ve done food wise is choose some lighter calorie options at some meals, but I am having every part of a meal. So far I have had an extra 350 calories every day since Friday. I am still walking as much as I was before and I have (like before) done some light yoga routines, but I haven’t strayed into the category of “strenuous” exercise. My best friend has been texting me every night to make sure I've had my extra food, and another friend is making sure I wake up to a Facebook message reminding me to eat. Those two daily reminders have been incredibly helpful, and I am very grateful. I have noticed that after walking my legs aren't quite as tired as they have been of late. I've noticed too that I am a little less tired overall. Those are good things that I try to pay attention to. Sunday was truly one of the best days I've had in a long time, and every day there have been bright moments of laughter and joy - glimpses of the life that I am fighting for.

~~~~~

 Something else happened today that wasn't full of joy, and definitely quieted my laughter. The details aren't mine to share, but my thoughts I feel I must.

Throughout the course of my recovery, there have been times where I’ve felt anger towards my disorder and the chaos she's created in my life. It also isn’t uncommon for me to experience flashes of annoyance and irritation with her and what she’s taken away from me thus far. Normally though, I don’t have room for anger. Normally all my energy is wrapped up in fighting her. She responds to my fight by hitting back hard almost every day with shame, pain, guilt, and self-loathing. Her punches, kicks, yells and insults are often transformed into physical manifestations of weakness, exhaustion, headaches, nausea, stomach-aches, and occasionally actual physical pain. Often these daily battles leaves me feeling tearful and defeated at days end. I try not to turn to anger then, because I feel that if I did that the anger would cause me to lose focus on what I’m fighting for. I think for me giving into anger would make it easier for her to overpower me. So I chose to fight with my spirit and my heart instead.

Today I am angry, but not with her. I am angry that people I care about have to experience this same torment. I’m angry that wonderful, strong, smart, beautiful, amazing individuals have to suffer with a voice in their head that’s telling them every day they aren’t good enough, aren’t’ worthy enough of happiness and a life full of freedom. I wish so badly that their disorders were real physical beings that I could pull out of their minds and stomp out forever. I’m angry that I can’t do more to help them, kind of a laughable thought I know considering most days I’m barely capable of helping myself. I'm angry at the helpless feelings these disorders create in their victims, and angry at how helpless the people who love them feel when they can't help. It makes me angry, and it makes my heart hurt.

We've had one, yes. What about second breakfast?

Aragorn: Gentlemen, we do not stop 'til nightfall.
Pippin: What about breakfast?
Aragorn: You've already had it.
Pippin: We've had one, yes. What about second breakfast?

 
[Aragorn turns and walks away] 

Merry: I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip.  

Pippin: What about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them, doesn't he?  

Merry: I wouldn't count on it.

~~*~~

The above quote is one of my favorites from the Lord of the Rings movies. It's always struck me as both funny and sweetly innocent. Little did I know that one day all those meals Pippin lists off would share a shocking resemblance to my daily life. When I first went to Mercy I was put on a meal plan designed for weight gain. Three full meals (2 with dessert) and two snacks. Before Mercy, the amount of food I let myself eat in a day was maybe – maybe – calorically equivalent to just one of the meals at Mercy. Suffice it to say, those first few meals at Mercy were a bit shocking. The first few weeks I steadily gained weight, the meal plan was working; however, at a certain point the gaining stopped and I entered into a weight plateau. The Dr and dietitians in the program explained that this was a typical thing to happen to patients and that when it did the go to fix it was to add an Ensure Plus to ones meal plan.

In case anyone isn't familiar with what Ensure is, here is the description for it on the company's website:

Ensure Plus Nutrition to help gain or maintain a healthy weight.

Each bottle of #1 doctor recommended brand Ensure Plus has the right balance to help you take charge of your health. Every ready-to-drink shake has 350 nutrient-rich calories, 13 grams of protein, and 23 essential vitamins and minerals.

It was a drink every patient at Mercy was familiar with. When we first started that was what we were given for our afternoon snack, and if for any reason we did not finish our breakfast or lunch we had to drink Ensure as a replacement. Each morning we would have to hand it a sheet of paper documenting what we'd eaten for dinner the night before, and if we had missed any part of our meal plan we were given Ensure to replace it. And like I said before, it was also what was added to a meal plan to bump up weight gain, or at least we had to add something calorically equivalent to an Ensure. Some patients just wanted the Ensure because the idea eating more actual food was just to much. Others preferred food to the drink and this tended to be the case with me.

By the time I was discharged from the program, I had had two extra Ensures added to my meal plan. It truly felt like I was having breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner, and supper. Not to long after, something happened that led me to think I had reached a healthy weight, and backed off a bit on the intensity of my daily food intake. For awhile that seemed to be working, I felt good and my weekly weight checks showed most weeks my weight had remained at a healthy number,whatever that may be (I still don't know what I actually weigh).

However, five weeks ago I started a training class for a new job at work, and the initial set up of the training class really did a number of me. I've already posted about the incredibly close brush with relapse I had because of those two weeks, and while I'm definitely on stronger firmer ground there are still bits of those first weeks that echo through my days now. I've talked about the up tick in walking I'd been doing and that hasn't stopped. That in and of itself would probably be fine, but with an increase in energy spent there needed to be an increase in the amount of food I ate and that didn't happen. I have never skipped a meal since starting at Mercy, but there have definitely been times when I have cut out parts of meals, or chosen less calorie options. As much as I hate to admit it, I know that this has occurred with increasing frequency since the training started.

Yesterday I went in for my weight check and I found I'd lost weight. It was the third time in the last four weeks that's happened, and that fourth week I'd only maintained. I don't know how much I've lost, but I think that matters as much as the fact that it's now a trend instead of an anomaly. When I found out last week that I had lost, I tried really, really hard to not cut anything out. I made a huge effort to add one thing to my meal plan each day. It was not fun, and while I had a few good days, there were some so emotionally awful I had people I barely knew stopping me to ask if I was ok. There were a couple of days I did skip dessert, and most days when I tried to add something, the most I could do was an apple, or yogurt or a few almonds. It was better than nothing, but apparently, definitely, not enough.

The way it is set up now, I go in for a weight check Friday mornings at the health center at work. The nurse takes my weight and then calls my therapist to let her know what it was. If the news is good I would just get a text from her letting me know I was fine. If the news is bad I get a call, so when I checked my phone yesterday morning and saw a voicemail from my therapist I instantly knew what was up (or rather down) and that something needed to change. I called her back and she let me know in no uncertain terms that both she and the nurse were really concerned. She wanted to know what I thought, and I said it was clear that my adding 'something' wasn't cutting it, and it was time to fall back on the Mercy go-to, I needed to add an Ensure.

So that's the plan, I'm back to having 'second breakfast', and if next Friday my weight still drops then 'elevenses' it is. My therapist also said that when we next meet we are going to have a talk and come up with a concrete agreement of just how far this can go before I have to consider going back to Mercy. Now, I am incredibly grateful for that program and the staff there; they did phenomenal things for me. And the days spent there weren't the worst ever, sure there were a lot of pain and tears and overfull stomachs, but there was also laughter, love, support, crafts, cooking and even some karaoke. However, I am bound and determined not to go back there. I am motivated to make sure I don't. I am supposed to be doing a walk for Eating Disorder awareness on April 26^th and I want to be there. I don't want to go back to not being allowed to walk down my street, or be put on another caffeine ban, or be out of work on disability. I don't want to reach a point where my family and friends are so worried about me that I have to be supervised at all times. These however, are all secondary factors to the main underlying reason of why I'm determined not to return. I don't want to go back to a life where she is in charge and I am just along for the ride. That wasn't life, wasn't living, that was hell.

When I got home after work yesterday I had an Ensure first thing. It was harder than I'd thought, but I guess the universe knew it would be, because there was a letter from my sister waiting for me and I read that as I sipped. This morning I had Ensure right after my morning coffee, and I already know when I'll have it tomorrow. Thankfully they're not the worst tasting things, but I do tend to prefer eating my calories vs drinking them, so I've bought some extra snacks to get me through the work week. I also think it would be slightly less awkward to simply be eating extra food at work rather than pulling out an Ensure. My amazing best friend has agreed to keep me on track and will be texting me nightly to make sure I've followed my meal plan plus one Ensure, and for anyone reading this feel free to do the same. Most days my appetite ranges from meager to so non-existent that the thought of food makes me feel sick, so it helps to be held accountable. Hopefully, next weekend I'll be able to share good news – that the weight loss has stopped. And it looks like I'll have to get accustomed to 'second breakfast' being a regular thing again. Wish me luck, I'll need it.