Lunch With My Professor -Take 2

As my last class of the day came to a close I made my way across campus and up the many flights of stairs to Dr. A’s office. She sat there, waiting for me to arrive. Much like the first time we had lunch together she asked me if I had decided where I want to eat, much like the first time I said I wasn’t sure and hadn’t decided. I mentioned a few places where I knew I could manage to eat something.  She threw out one place, not far from campus at all. I said I hadn’t gone there before but to me it looked like bar food that would be really greasy.  Dr. A nodded in agreement and said ok, then that other place sounds good, with outdoor seating.

With that decision out of the way I offered to drive this time, that way she didn’t have to give up her parking spot. She caved and said ok.  We weren’t even to the car yet and she started making comments about my run tomorrow, how her sons both do triathalons and they “carb load” before their stuff and asked how that sounded.  I told her it sounded stressful.

So, anyway, skip ahead to lunch. We were sitting outside at a nice little place. She ordered, I ordered. As I sat there eating my grapes and pineapple and Dr. A was snacking on her salad, the waiter brought us a basket of rolls. She had one and mentioned how good they were, how soft and warm they were. I smiled, acknowledging I heard her, and continued on my grapes. After another few minutes she made another comment about “These great rolls, and you really should….”  I grabbed one just to shut her up. After our meals came I picked at the chicken and fruit and the roll, Dr. A began to eat her lunch. We talked about my siblings, her travel, dogs, sports…. then it came. I was blind sided, back handed, taken back and shocked at the same time.

“Have you heard of Karen Carpenter? Probably not, from The Carpenters.”

“Oh yeah! I’ve heard of them.”

“She was so pretty, a singer, died really young because of a heart attack brought on by anorexia. You don’t want that to happen to you.”

“Yeah. I know. The last time we got lunch, sitting just next to us was my cardiologist I was referred to a while back.”

“Good! Well, not good, but…”

“I know. My best friend is trying to get me to go get blood work because of my leg cramps.”

“Are you taking vitamins?”

“No. I’m figuring it is just potassium.”

“Oh. Gosh.  That’s what I was thinking, but you don’t want problems with your heart.”

After I picked at lunch a little more she made a comment about not eating a lot, I once again, told her I couldn’t, but that I would get a to-go box.  Overall, this lunch outing was also very nice, and I appreciate having someone like Dr. A in my life, even though she cares more about me than I do.

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Teary Eyed and Dr. A

Here I sit in a coffee shop on campus, staring blankly at my chemistry lab report that I have barely began to touch.

Reflecting on yesterday morning when Dr. A nearly brought me to tears, and sitting here literally dreading lunch. Dr. A was the one I had lunch with about two weeks ago (you can probably already see what direction this is headed in), she saw me sitting in the lobby of one of the building yesterday morning. She came and sat down next to me at the same table and pretty bluntly just asked if I had been eating. I began to smile and nod, which quickly turned into me just shaking my head with a half attempt at a smile. This feels almost embarrassing to openly admit to somebody that no, I haven’t eaten. She offered up another lunch date and I thanked her for the offer, but I couldn’t Thursday, but possibly Friday might be an option. She made a comment that, “I’ll have to take you somewhere and have you load up on donuts.” I politely laughed at her attempt at a joke.

I gestured to my coffee and said “I have coffee.”  “I don’t think that counts. Is there cream init?” “No. If it is good coffee I’ll drink it black.” “Then no, it doesn’t count.” She began to walk away to face the day head on with her sweet personality, smile, and motherly affection.

Then, she turned around and came back. I had already began writing notes from a powerpoint for a quiz. “You know what, my husband and I made an awesome dinner last night and I brought it for lunch; grilled veggies with some ground up turkey. It was really good, and I will even give it to you if you will eat it.”  My defensive sassy side was starting to bubble up, quickly I shoved it aside and lying through my teeth I said, “Thank you so much, that is so sweet, but I’m ok, I’ll eat something on the way to work.”  “Ok, well eat something healthy today.”

I wasn’t sure if I should be pissed as hell because what I eat is none of anyone’s business, or be appreciative-ish, that she cared.  I guess when I open up to people, I shouldn’t be surprised when they have something to say. I got all teary eyed when she was walking away. That was so sweet of her, she was going to offer me her own lunch because she wanted me to eat. I have such a mental block over that. She is stuck at school, she was going to give me her lunch for the day, because she was concerned I wasn’t going to eat.

So anyway, I got home last night, and my best friend/roommate/sister-ish came in my room and we began to talk. She said, “I saw Dr. A at school, she mentioned getting lunch with you tomorrow.”  Well, shit. I guess I should have emailed her hours ago. So guess her and I are getting lunch today.

I don’t want to. I am not hungry, I feel sick. I want nothing to do with food. Lunch is going to be miserable. This wont be enjoyable, it is going to be a chore. She is a sweet heart though, and I am grateful for the people in my life.

The Day That I Wake Up

What if something happens one day, a wreck, I hit my head, something, and I wake up in the hospital. Totally blank of the past, no recollection of anything.  Would that be possible? Just to wake up one day and say, “I want pizza.” To have no recollection of fearing food, hating myself.
What if one day I wake up and eating isn’t something I dread. I recall that there are actually three meals during the day, breakfast, lunch, dinner. I want to see food, not numbers. Work out because I love it, not because I feel obligated.  To remember the taste of peanut butter, bananas, pizza. To wear jeans and not feel awful. 
Not have a headache. Not have my insides crampy and twisted from laxatives. To keep something down. To not be so moody, sad, hateful. To not only have hunger cues, but be able to listen to them. To not be so tired and have a period. Having nails, that aren’t blue and peeling. Wearing clothes without being freezing and wearing a tremendous amount of layers. 
To have a life that revolves around something other than food and my poor body image. Having a passion and spark about something once again.

Two Weeks

I should never make big decisions when I am upset. Today I talked to my boss and put in my two weeks notice. I am filled with a mix of dread, fear, excitement and guilt.  I love my children. They wear me out and infuriate me at times, but I love them just the same. 
I honestly believe it is a matter of time until I pass out behind the wheel. I never thought I’d say that. On the way to and from my house I can feel my eyes getting heavier, my driving becoming more like that of a drunks and getting closer and closer to the guard rail. My vision is still kinda blurry, my mind is fuzzy, my legs crampy and achy. My mom and I actually had a brief talk today about my eating disorder, that didn’t end in a fight… CAN I GET A HALLELUJAH?!?! I called her between sobs and classes today. I wanted her opinion on quitting and told her that I was looking into treatment in Raleigh, NC.
“You mean, stay at a treatment facility?”
“Yeah.”
“For what?! Your eating?”
“Yeah.”
“Um okayy???… *awkward silence*… I mean.. I mean… ok…”
“I’ll be by in a few minutes, it’s a long story.”
I stopped by the house. I already had a mental pep talk going on in my head on the drive over there, “Mom, I’m not asking for your permission or even your support. This is kind of what I am planning, and it may go through, it may not…Yeah, yeah, that’s what I’m going to say.” I thought to myself. I was already mentally dressing myself in armor and bulletproof vests to deflect any words that would come stabbing out of the vile beast’s mouth (yes, I did just call her a vile beast). 
Telling her the whole story of what was pretty much an ultimatum that was thrown at me. The stress of work, and my possible plan. I told her that if it worked out I’d be gone in December. My little sister, who was standing right there, began to hand me anything in sight. I don’t cry and she didn’t know how to handle seeing her big sister having a melt down.  “Please eat something.” mom would say between my sentences of work. “Mom, I can’t.” “Please, something, the pasta is good. There is fruit, here take fruit.” My sister began to hand me a cashew, then glitter glue, then an orange. She just wanted me to be my peppy self again and stop with the break down, anything to see a smile on my face. She is a ten year old nut, a mini-me, she means the world to me. “I can’t eat, I will throw up. I had something last night, but other than that I ate Monday.” So, I left my house with saltine crackers and cut up melon. I grabbed my purse as I was headed out the door and realized my sister had shoved about 3 oranges inside. I looked up at her to see her laughing with her big grin and playing dumb.  
I talked to my boss and found out what I had been told from the director, versus what the principal herself had to say to me, were two totally different things. Still, I handed her my two weeks notice, and went on with my day. Still full of fear, slight regret, but a tad bit of excitement, guess I will see what is to come in the next few weeks or so. 

Being in a bad place.

I have been in a bit of a rough spot lately. Everything is just quickly going downhill. School is getting the best of me, work is draining me.  The other night I was in such a depressed mood, I hadn’t eaten, I took laxatives, hydroxycut, and had a drink. Then two. Three. Four. I’m not really sure. My tolerance is so bad anyway from not eating that I get so woozy. I remember feeling very sick, but from the laxatives mostly, I remember being hunched over the toilet, fingers down throat, as red wine came pouring out of my face as I was thinking, “Oh forgive me. Shit. Forgive me.”

Forgive me. I began to think. I hadn’t done anything. Was I asking for forgiveness because I had eaten earlier that day? Was I asking forgiveness because I knew I had consumed too much alcohol. I wasn’t really sure. I feel like I am in such a dark place right now. I don’t want to die, but this isn’t living, but at least dead you don’t have all of this to worry about.

My boss isn’t going to give me two days off for Fall Break because of the possibility that I might be missing a bit of work in December, going to residential treatment, which is none of her damn business anyway. Which I personally believe is unfair. I didn’t even have to tell her to begin with, then she is going to try and hold that against me when I’m not even sure.

If you read a few of my past posts, I said that while being accident prone, I fell and busted my ass. Well, they think it is a hairline fracture, and if so, I was told not to go running because it could get worse. Um, I run whenever I damn well please. A class average for a biology test was a 40… I began to cry in my next class because I was so upset. He is new, he isn’t curving it, we only have 3 tests the whole semester. During the next class I just lost it, I began to bawl. My professor knows me as the cheery, happy, laughing girl who socializes with everyone. She thought I was laughing, when she leaned over my shoulder she realized I was crying and felt so bad for me. My leg cramps are becoming more frequent, and if they aren’t locking up they are numb and tingly. Last but not least, I just feel very foggy, my vision, my thinking. I’m not sure if I am dehydrated, even though my pee looks fine, or an electrolyte imbalance, or what it is. My best friend asked me last night when the last time I had my period was, I honestly wasn’t sure, and told her I couldn’t remember, even though I have plenty of damn body fat.

I just feel very depressed lately. I hate myself, hate my life. Don’t think I’m going to go to treatment. My boss can get off of her high horse. I’d drop out of school and become a stripper, but I don’t even have the body for that.

Lunch With My Professor

I feel like everything I’ve posted lately has been so negative, well, today was. Today was; well, I’m grateful.

A few weeks ago I talked with my advisor about a possible medical withdraw. She asked what it was, if I was having surgery again, was I ok?  I mentioned looking into residential treatment for an eating disorder. She explained that her daughter’s friend went to a place for a while, was getting better, etc. She was also so helpful in explaining my options as far as next semester. Dr. A told me that her doctor thought she was anorexic at one point and she disagreed because she was never stick thin, but her doctor explained it is how she perceives food, and not necessarily her body.  It was a very nice conversation and I enjoyed it.  Dr. A told me how her daughter kind of struggled and would call her mom and ask, “Mom, I’m struggling again, can we go out to dinner?”  That way she could have a “normal meal” with her mom and try to not worry about it. After that story she extended a similar invitation, “If you ever need a “normal meal”, Let me know, and we will go out.”

Well, today, Dr. A and I went out to lunch together. It was ridiculously outside of my comfort zone and stressed me out, but I am so unbelievably grateful/thankful/flattered/happy that she would do that with/for me. After emailing her she said to just come by her office. I had asked about possible coffee or something because I like to keep myself busy in order to avoid having to eat. So, I stopped by her office today after class.  Dr. A looked happy to see me. She asked where I would like to go, and after talking for a few minutes we decided on a place, she grabbed her purse and we were headed out, also emphasizing that this was her treat and on her. We headed to her car (which I wasn’t expecting), talked about her grandbabies, her husband, school, work, treatment, the weather. We rode together through town, still making conversation, talking mainly about traveling.

It was so kind of her, and very enjoyable.

I picked at the grilled chicken and veggies that I had ordered and we continued to talk outside on the patio. She watched me as I attempted to eat and offered dessert, I declined.  Dr. A made a comment about not eating much, I told her I couldn’t eat too much or I’d get sick.  I didn’t want to risk throwing up something that someone else was buying for me.  It probably sounds dumb, but I think it is one thing to flush my own money down the toilet by puking the foods I buy, but it really bothers me to throw up food, or waste anything, that someone else bought for me.  She is such an unbelievably kind lady, and thanked me for sending her that email. I was just so appreciative that she actually said yes, drove, and paid- she didn’t have to do any of that. I wasn’t expecting lunch, maybe coffee and fruit or something, but wow.  Thank you Lord for people like Dr. A.

“We don’t have anything here to fit you.”

“Are you shopping for you or someone else?”
Uhm, us, well, me.
“Oh, well, we aren’t going to have anything in here to fit you…..”
My eyes darted from her body to mine, and back to hers. “What was I missing?” I thought to myself. I thought her and I were about the same size. I don’t understand. No, this isn’t some Abercrombie and Fitch fat shaming. 
“….our store starts at a size 12.”

————-

Shopping sucks, I haven’t eaten in about a week. Even with this ED I recently fell into a great article about thin privilege.Unfortunately, it is so true. I don’t get judged for eating something, hell, at this point people praise me and cry when I eat. I get attention at stores. If I want pants or a shirt it is almost always in stock, and I have the ability to get it for fairly cheap. The only one who judges my body seems to be me. Yeah, I’ve heard it all from “fat ass” to “chicken legs”. I have never been called petite or tiny until this year. I have lost quite a bit of weight.  I don’t have any pants that fit, no bras besides sports bras.
I am jealous.
Jealous of the girls who wear whatever they want.
Jealous of the girls who see food as food and not as numbers.
Jealous of the girls who are bigger than me, but radiate, just absolutely RADIATE self confidence.
I want that. I want confidence. To not wake up in the morning and hate myself.
To wear something other than yoga pants, running shorts and sweats and not hate my body.
 
 
C, called me today to see if I had pursued anyone/anything/any place else for treatment or made an appointment. I didn’t have much to say. I slept all of maybe four hours last night. I ate for the first time in six days yesterday. My best friend kinda forced me to, then told me, “If you have to go to the bathroom it’s ok.”  Wait, did my best friend just give me permission to throw up? Should I be pissed or thrilled? Excited or appalled? ….going off on a tangent, oops…. So, I ate a little, threw up what I could, but woke up in the middle of the night with muscle spasms and my stomach being pissed as hell that I had eaten. I was curled up in pain, regretting eating at all. Fucking food. So, anyway, C, called. I told her I hadn’t much thought about it, the ED specialist was only there one day a week and because of work and school that is literally the one day I can’t go. She threw out a couple of options. I mentioned possibly going to something on campus, she threw out the idea of coming to her office. Either way she was really pushing the fact that I need to go somewhere or do something. My best friend was standing right there while I was on the phone. Didn’t bother me one bit. She sat there silently as C went on about scheduling an appt, dr appt, something. I told her that my best friend was really pushing residential during December, “That would be great, if we can keep you healthy that long.” gee thanks…. 
On the plus side, I actually bought pants yesterday. Bought my plane ticket for Thanksgiving! I am so tired. Hate headaches. My legs are still cramping. Dysmorphia and ED are both bitches. 

—————-

Employee at another store:
“Can I help you find something? Oh girl, try this. These would look great. What size pants are you?”
“I have no clue.” 
“Well, it’s gonna be itty bitty whatever it is.”

Progressively Worse.

Sitting at work today, I once again had no energy to actually get up and run around with my children, plus my laxatives were flooding my system, my boss (the principal) came in and pulled me into the hallway. I had mentioned it to my other boss that I might be missing work, and she told the principal. I am looking into residential treatment in December, they don’t know that, they don’t need to know that, all they needed to know was that I would be missing work for an extended amount of time.

She came in and pulled me into the hallway. She knew that I was concerned about how to go about missing so many days. She informed me I would have to get a doctor’s note, etc. She kept pushing the subject about it being “medical”? and that it was so long, I told her worse comes to worse if everything goes through I can always just give you a two weeks notice… to which she nicely said wasn’t necessary… if it was medical… 

It hit me really hard on the way home from work that I am just getting progressively worse. 

Last year I would eat Clif bars, bread, eggs, I looked forward to Fall because I got to have pumpkin stuff and my favorite, pumpkin lattes. I tried having a pumpkin latte about a week ago, I freaked out and puked it up. I can’t eat anything that I haven’t physically made, or been made in front of me. I tried to eat a salad at a restaurant and I couldn’t do it. My sister got home from dinner the other day, came over to me and took a drink of my water. That used to not bother me, and it wouldn’t have, if she hadn’t just eaten dinner. I was so worried that something she ate, oil, grease, something, was still on her lips and that I would touch consume it. Now I know this isn’t logical, but I am freaking the fuck out. No Clif bars, no eggs, no bread, no peanut butter. I am going insane. Dinner tonight consists of a cup of tea, a handful of laxatives, and a handful of hydroxycut. 

You Can Lead Me To The Kitchen, But You Can’t Make Me Eat.

The past few days have been flat out horrible, and they keep getting worse. After work today I decided to go to my family’s house. I was so flustered and upset about my past couple days I sat down and started my homework as my little sibs ran circles around me.
I got more bad news, told my mom behind tears, “I just can’t deal with this shit right now.” and went back to my homework. Trying desperately not to start bawling at any second.
Well, then my step dad got home. Him and my brother wanted to go to a buffet for dinner. The panic started to fill up. Mom knew about my ED, she knew I was already upset. She coaxed my other sibs into going with their brother and dad for dinner while her and I stayed behind and she worked on my most recent bad news.
After a while she looked up and said, “What do you want for dinner?” I looked up and responded, “grapes.” which I had been munching on while doing my homework at the time. She began to list off foods, none of which sounded appealing.
“Do you want a tomato and corn? *holding up fresh produce*”
“Maybe tomato, do we have balsamic vinegar?”
“Yeah, do you want a sandwich?”
“No.”
“A tomato sandwich?”
“No.”
“You could make an egg with peppers and onions.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
My little sister walked in the door and asked if she could help (she had just gotten home after her dinner outting).
I said of course and let her cut the onion, peppers, etc. I cracked the egg, carefully letting the egg white slide into the cup for my sister to whisk, while the yolk and shell went in the garbage.
So, I had made an egg with onion, mushroom, peppers, garlic and tomato. And there it sat, on the stove, untouched.
My littlest brother said something about wanting a mushroom, and mom flipped out, “That is your sister’s food, no!” “I was going to get one out of the fridge.”
I don’t want to eat. The laxatives are still in my system. I’m not hungry. I’m so damn stressed.
You can lead a disordered person to the kitchen, but you can’t make them eat. So, when mom left the kitchen to go read to my brother, the egg “accidentally” managed to make it perfectly down the drain for the garbage disposable to devour.
I’m only getting worse.

Accident Prone Lately.

Lately I feel like a lot has happened. There has been one job, school, my other job, looking into treatments, etc. 
I found out Sunday that C is no longer going to be working with the place I had been going for outpatient. I wish nothing but the best of luck for her, and I am so grateful that she called me and told me herself. It is odd. I am thankful she made a point to say it was nothing I did/said, and gave me a few options. I struggle so bad with a fear of rejection and upsetting people that it meant so much to me that she called me herself and told me.
I had told C a couple of days ago about my horrible leg cramps and that my foot had locked up. It was like a charley horse, but 100x worse, I couldn't just stretch it or rub it out, and it lasted for what seemed like eternity. C expressed concern during our short talk Sunday. She said that one of her nutritionist friends explained it could be a precusor to something in the future and the next time it happened I needed to go to the doctor ASAP. 
One of my jobs has been so busy, and the other one is at a school with kids.
I think I am getting sick, mainly the whole kids back in school, everyone shares germs, kinda sick. 
I haven't been eating at all again, Last night my "dinner" consisted of a cup of hot tea and a handful of laxatives. Day before that? I consumed grapes. I'm not eating, I don't want to eat, and I wish my body wasn't so damn resilient.
I have also become extremely accident prone recently though. I'm not sure if it is just related to the foggy brain and light headed-ness, just being so tired, lethargic, or malnourished. It has been awful though. Bruises, clumsy-ness, falling, running into stuff. This has become daily, and painful. 
Yesterday I was carrying something at work and ran right into a pole with my hip. Holy crap that hurt so bad, I have a huge bruise.
Today, I was covering a Moomba boat after I had driven it from the dock onto the trailer. I was covering the front part and was under the cover putting the poles in there. I turned my head and bashed it right on the windshield. As if my head wasn't hurting bad enough from lack of food and water. Then, I was inside a ski nautique, driving that on the trailer, I fell back and landed right on my tail bone, *CRUNCH*. I saw stars and got that nauseating feeling in my stomach. Walking/sitting/ pretty much anything right now hurts so bad. Blacked out at work today, I was so sure I was about to just pass out. I got very dizzy, weak, my vision began to go; I sat down (the best I could with my ass hurting) and sipped some ice coffee my boyfriend-ish, had brought me for lunch. I am pretty pissed that I hurt myself so bad that I won't be able to run for a couple days because the impact and jarring from walking hurts my lower back and butt so much.... damn tailbone...