Met My First Running Goal

8 07 2013

Early 2007, I graduated high school. I carried a 3.87 GPA, had won more speech and debate awards than I could count, earned the prestige of being the “Best German Student” in my class and absolutely hated myself. I weighed 260 pounds, had a 26 minute mile and for my freshman and sophomore years, was easily the most hated person in my P.E. class. See, I had this instructor who made us a simple deal at the beginning of the year: if everyone in the class could run a sub-12 minute mile, we wouldn’t have to run the mile in her class ever again. However, if anyone was still running, everyone had to run. Ergo, I listened to, “Come on, it’s not that hard.” “Just do it.” “If only you’d . . . .” “Nope. Keep running. We’re still waiting on her.” every week for two years. I never did manage a sub-12 minute mile in high school and I hated every minute of P.E. Come to think of it, I hated every minute of organized exercise up until about 4 months ago. I’ve fallen into the “running addiction,” somehow, and I not only like running, I look forward to it every day. 

Today, I did something I quite honestly believed I was incapable of doing. I did something more than 30 people I went to school with thought I would never do. I have finally, 9 years after my last P.E. class, met my P.E. Instructor’s challenge. I have successfully ran a sub-12 minute mile (10:54!!!!!). Not only that, I maintained the pace for an additional 2.5 miles. 

I am, quite simply, proud of myself. Take that, negative voices from my past. I’ve lost over 100 pounds, systematically built both strength and speed, and have finally bested a mental demon concerning my utter inability to complete a simple 4 laps around a track.

I’ve Started Running

1 07 2013

I started running in February of this year, but underwent surgery in February and fell victim to a “metabolic crisis” in March. It’s thought that I have a potential mitochondrial disease, for several reasons I won’t get into here. Regardless, it laid me out for almost two months, during which I lost all the progress I’d gained in February.

Starting over, I was 195 pounds, unable to walk further than about 2 miles and hating myself more than ever. Now, on July 1st, I’m 182 pounds, can maintain a 13″ a mile pace for 4-5 miles and have been sucked into an entirely different set of numbers. When I was in treatment, one of the doctors said to me, “The rules of an eating disorder are generally pretty simple. Regarding food, it’s always less, never more, and regarding exercise, it’s always more, never less.”

I’ve never understood that until now. I’ve never had an “exercise problem,” and I’ve always LOATHED running in any form. I’ve never understood the drive to continue moving, and honestly, it feels about like the very first time I purged: I wish I’d never discovered it.

I’m trying to remain healthy, trying to maintain my intake, but most days of the week, I end up with a net calorie intake of 250-500. A few times, I’ve even had a negative balance, and that felt better than anything.

I just want to be able to wear my favorite pair of jeans, enjoy it when someone touches me instead of the immediate firestorm that hits my brain (“DON’T TOUCH ME; I’M DISGUSTING!!!!!”), and be able to venture out in public without feeling every eye on me and my massiveness.

I know, logically, I’m not even really all that “huge,” but I feel as if . . . . . I occupy far too much space and that it’s just utterly foul. I can’t stand seeing myself, being touched, or having someone look at me. I’m really working to avoid falling off the restriction cliff, but it’s hard.

Time Marches On

8 02 2013

I just realized I’ve struggled with an eating disorder for nigh on 6 years. This fact stunned me and stopped my brain from spinning for an entire 30 seconds, a huge feat when you’re as ADHD as I am. That’s 6 years that I’ve hated myself, 6 years in which nothing I’ve done was good enough, 6 years I’ve continuously gained and lost weight, 6 years of feeling tired and drained, 6 years of strife and conflict, 6 years of constant struggle.

And yet, I sit here now, fighting the same fight I always seem to be fighting. Right now, though, it’s harder than ever because I am genuinely overweight and I hate every bloody second of it. There’s no one to blame but myself for the overeating that led me here, although I honestly think the severe episode of depression I survived late last year and the antidepressants strongly contributed, I’m the one who kept eating.

I can’t stand to see myself in the mirror, can’t stand to have anyone touch me or really even see me, try to shower as quickly as possible so I can get dressed again and struggle every minute of every day to just eat, and eat enough. If numbers bother you or trigger you, stop reading here.

On January 1st of this year, I weighed 205 pounds. That’s the most I’ve weighed since I was 16 years old. When I was 16, I had a BMI of 42. While I’m nowhere near that big now, I feel that big and larger.

Now, today, I weigh 182.5 pounds. I’ve been exercising a lot and eating VERY clean and minimally processed foods. I can’t tell I’ve lost weight. I’m the same bloody size, with the same bloody fat and the same bloody clothes fit the same bloody way. It’s irritating. I’m literally trying to work my butt off (mostly) the healthy way and I don’t see anything happening.

Some days I burn almost as many calories as I eat. Some days I only burn 300. There’s been this recent development that I’ve NEVER struggled with: for whatever reason, and I don’t know how or where my brain picked up this idea, I can only eat if I exercise. Exercise outside of a gym doesn’t count.

I hate exercising. I hate sweating. I hate running. I hate feeling tired. I can’t stand anything about it.

And yet, here I am, undertaking hour and hour-and-a-half long workouts and loathing pretty much every minute of it. I’ve been to the gym every day for the past 9 days.

I’ve been told to ease off a bit, so I have — I’ve only been exercising for 45 minutes to an hour, and at a lower intensity.

My anxiety has skyrocketed. I’m not doing the routine, the niche, I’d settled into, and having limitations put on my routine/exercises of choice is severely cramping my style. I NEVER thought I’d feel that way. I’ve always been the one to look for any reason not to exercise, period, even if that reason was, “No, sorry, I have to sit on my balcony and watch grass grow tonight.”

As much as I hate feeling the way I do, I can’t stop it — I truly am “fat” now. I NEED to exercise. It’s healthy.

And as I continue to battle myself and struggle to get healthy, time continues to march on . . . . .


7 01 2013

Here it is, another new year and I’m still fighting this beast. For most of 2012, I was ok. Not great, but ok. Sure, I dropped to my lowest weight in almost 6 years, but I felt good. Then I got deathly depressed and fought suicidal ideation and tendencies for several months. Along the way, I gained about 60 pounds.

I cannot even begin to describe how difficult that is for me. I have this “I don’t care” facade up because I don’t know what to do or think about it. If I pretend it isn’t so, then I don’t have to worry about the freak-out, brain-crazies that loom just around the corner. If I ignore my current weight, then I won’t (hopefully) fall into the sneaky-death spiral.

I’ve gotta say, though, my current weight is sapping me of my life. I don’t want to be seen in public, I don’t want anyone to touch me for any reason and I’m 10 times more anti-social than I usually am. I dress like a blob, look like a blob and feel like a blob. Blah blah blah, people can say I’m still pretty and that my weight doesn’t matter, but it matters to me. I can’t do anything without thinking of how fat I’ve gotten and now that I’m officially in the “obese” BMI zone, I feel as if I’m not allowed to have ED thoughts for any reason. Like I’m too fat to be struggling with it.

So I keep eating, try not to purge, do a bit of exercise every day and try to hold depression at bay. It’s not easy, and I can’t help but remember how easy it was the first time I started dropping weight. I could honestly care less about what the number is; I just don’t want to feel the way I do. Between coming off my ADHD medication and starting a merry-go-round of various anti-depressants, I don’t know that my weight will ever stabilize.

I feel like my body is a burning building and I’m trapped in it. I want so badly to jump, on so many levels, but I’m scared to death of the incapacitating anxiety and compulsion that awaits me on the ground.

10 Reasons Why ED Sucks (TW)

16 04 2011

Why am I making yet another list, you may ask? Because I need this right now. Everywhere I turn, everyone under the sun is losing weight, becoming summer ready, cutting calories here and exercising more here. Everyone in the entire universe is encouraged by everyone else in the entire universe to cut calories, choose the lower-fat option, shave 300 calories here, another 500 there and to do anything possible to lose weight — even when it sounds stupid.

That is, everyone but me. I’m not allowed to cut calories and shave nutrition and “lose weight fast.” And occasionally, some parts of me find this really unfair. Fast weight loss? I am the QUEEN. I am. I can manage well over a pound a day left to my own devices — and these are the thoughts that are crippling me right now.

I gained a significant amount of weight over the holidays and I’m trying to lose it healthily but I’m finding ED is snagging his grimy little claws into my brain more and more with every passing week (and pound or two). I’m scared of food I didn’t make. Heaven forbid I get full. More than two servings of anything but veggies or fruit? In your dreams. Full-fat WHAT? Ha. You’ve lost your cotton-picking mind. I don’t drink liquid calories. End of story. No, I’d rather feel like I’m actively dying than eat a cracker — do you know how many carbs are in that?

You get the idea. My eating disordered brain is running the show while my recovery-driven actions are powering it. So, it’s time to remind myself why ED sucks — and that’s why I’m here today. 😀

  1. ED takes away your social life. People might try to give you food. Why should I involve myself with that. Summer is coming — I want all of my friends around.
  2. ED leeches off your emotions. Can anyone say hello to never-ending anxiety, fear, paranoia and depression?
  3. ED steals your energy. Yeah, so I’m losing weight — I can’t do anything EXCEPT obsess over numbers and sit around and lose weight because I can’t stand.
  4. ED makes you dizzy. No one wants to hang out with the person who passes out every time they stand up.
  5. ED makes you socially worthless. Face it — food is everywhere. No one wants to hang out with the person who can’t eat a simple sandwich and then enjoy an afternoon at the mall.
  6. ED forces you further and further. It’s never a “little bit” of ED. It’s always more and more and more.
  7. ED makes you lie. Enough said — the lies come quickly and easily. Yes, they’re based out of panic and fear — but they’re lies nonetheless.
  8. ED makes your hair fall out. I like my hair on my head, not in my shower drain or all over my pillow.
  9. ED makes focus impossible. Your brain requires minimum amounts of fuel, period. I am not super woman — I can’t run on empty and expect to function.
  10. ED makes clothes impossible. Nothing fits, ever. Everything is always too big or too small.


3 04 2011

Happy super late New Year, everyone.

A year ago today, I was in residential treatment. 3 days from today, I was sent home from treatment.

It was too early.

The past year, I have had wildly swinging ups and downs concerning my ED. I have lapsed into restricting several times and I have had periods of massive overeating. I have minimally purged.

Through my periods of overeating, I gained 40 pounds.

I had noticed the weight coming on (and it didn’t creep — it was fast and sudden) but I didn’t care — then. The holidays were really hard on me; I lost both parents last year and ended up spending Christmas and New Years alone. That’s not an excuse by any stretch of the imagination, but there you have it — I roughly maintained through the holidays and then started rapidly gaining weight the first couple months of this year.

I was fine; I was fine; I was fine — until this switch flipped in my head. About 3 or 4 days after that, a really, really good friend sat down with me and voiced his concerns. More than anything, he wanted to help . . . . but my now ED-riddled brain latched on to only a few things that he said and that was all she wrote.

Since, I’ve been having a hard time eating correctly. I play at the edge of restriction and toy with the idea of purging. I’ve been on a medication that makes me retain water badly which makes it all the worse — no matter what I do, I gain weight. This really, really, really messes with my head and puts me in a panicked space where all that matters is “fixing” that.

Enter yesterday. Worst day of restriction I’ve had and a drawn out, super rare fight with my SO.

I’m not in a good place right now. Ultimatums were set, which as you guys know, don’t matter to ED — but they matter to me. The ante has been WAY upped, which increases my anxiety (now bordering on panic) which in turn increases my drive to restrict.

It upsets me that another year will be given to this fight.


2 11 2010

I hate ED with an undying, unyielding passion. Need I say more?

Actually, I do have more to say. I hate this parasite. I hate that he’s twisted my brain beyond the point of recognition. I hate that I think I’d be happy as long as I weren’t fighting him. I hate that he saps my joy. I hate that he prevents me from enjoying the pure, simple company of others. I hate that he makes me so self-conscious. I hate that he warps my thoughts. I hate that he’s latched onto me and won’t let go. I hate that he saps me of energy. I hate that depression follows ED wherever he goes. I hate that he saps me of motivation. I hate that he causes me to spend everything I have fighting to do what others not only do naturally, but enjoy. I hate that my life boils down to a number. I hate that overwhelming anxiety and panic can strike at any minute. I hate that I overanalyze every comment. I hate trying not to cry when I look in the mirror. I hate the fear and self-loathing. I hate the constant verbal abuse that ED dishes out. I hate everything ED has taken from me. I hate being unable to self-regulate.

Simply put, I hate ED.

In the Dark

31 10 2010

I feel like I’m lost, separated from the rest of the world and in the dark. A war is raging within and I don’t know how to verbalize it or express it. Unfortunately, the conflicting desires and constant Ana abuse wears me down and I snap at those I love, trust and rely on.

My recovery headspace is so flawed right now. I started slipping while I was traveling and upon my arrival home, was confronted by KY. The next day was extremely difficult but went reasonably well, all things considered. The next day, I was extremely sick with a quickie virus and threw up everything I ate (not by choice).

Well, that was the end of that. I’d just as soon

  • Skip meals
  • Purge (This is the BIG one right now)
  • Start cutting pieces out of my diet
  • Edge towards additional, anxiety-driven exercise

I had to fight harder not to purge yesterday than I have in months. It’s like it was when I was at my sickest but I physically wasn’t able to purge. I ended up missing my snack and delaying dinner to impossibly late times which just about killed me with the anxiety. I was *non-functional*. Today, it’s Halloween. Cupcakes and candy all around! Anddddd there’s the problem. I’m not technically Ana (not that it matters); I’m EDNOS. I have a lean towards Ana but Mia rears her ugly head quite commonly. It’s like there’s this switch in my head: everything or nothing. I have a drive to always eat LESS because I typically always eat MORE. I was a binge eater for 12 years; I don’t really know how to self-regulate. I will just as soon eat a whole cake as none of the cake and feel internally driven to do ONE or the OTHER and as such, I restrict so I don’t eat it all. Holidays are problems for me. They didn’t use to be when I was twice this size; then, I enjoyed the food to the max. Now, though, it’s a problem.

Here are some points I need to remember about the holidays:

  • If I restrict, I will end up binging.
  • If I restrict, I will lose weight but will slow down my metabolism, leaving me with uneven body conformation when I gain weight again.
  • Any food that I want is not going to disappear off the face of the Earth. I can have a bit now and a bit later.
  • I have minimum caloric needs and falling beneath those is not acceptable.
  • Just because something isn’t a perfect fit into my meal plan, it’s still food.
  • “I’ll do better tomorrow” isn’t an excuse for blowing off today.
  • Whether I’m a smaller size or bigger size, I am still loved.

Ok, I can do this. We can do this. 🙂 What are your favorite eating disorder holiday coping tips? Remember, recovery-focused!

Home Again

28 10 2010

My 10 day trip was cut drastically short. It wasn’t due to ED that the trip was cut short but it’s probably a good thing that it was. I was starting to slip rather significantly. I didn’t feel like eating all of my breakfast yesterday and so, I didn’t. I was full at lunch, so I only ate half. I somehow missed both my morning and afternoon snack. Yesterday wasn’t very good, even though I did manage to finally meet my calorie count with a huge, calorie soaked dinner that kept me anxious for hours. Upon my arrival home, KY and I had a rather intense come to Jesus meeting regarding my slipping and my choice to perpetuate those lapses. I got frustrated and angry when confronted and informed him that:

  • At least I ate. I didn’t have to eat at all. <—- Don’t DO this! It was bad, really bad.
  • It happens.
  • It’ll happen again. <—- This didn’t thrill him, either!
  • That I just didn’t FEEL like it, darnit.

None of those points landed me in a very happy situation. A couple hours later, I had finally calmed down enough to see not only his points, but why he’d reacted the way he did. After my recent significant relapse, he wasn’t allowing any foothold at all and was stopping ED dead in his tracks. So, I’ve got it now and I’m good to try again today. 🙂

Green Eggs and Ham Recovery

25 10 2010

I’m currently traveling. Carrie, of ED-Bites, wrote a really good post right before I left. Her list is full of things that we all KNOW but that become very easy to forget. For instance, have fun, bring calorie and nutrient-dense snacks and have a back-up plan. It’s the same thing we’ve all done the entire time we’ve been in recovery . . . . but all of a sudden, when you switch up the locale, it’s like we’re on the moon. Nothing works the way it should. Everything is screwy and “different.”

For me, this is “green eggs and ham” recovery. Would you eat it here or there? Would you eat it anywhere? Would you eat it in a box? Would you eat it with a fox? Would you eat them in a house? Would you eat them with a mouse?

Most often, my answer to all of that is, “NO.” I would not eat it in a box. I would not eat it with a fox. I would not eat it in a house. I would not eat it with a mouse. I would not eat it here or there. I would not eat it anywhere!

I don’t want any part of this food at home. Now, all of a sudden, I’m on the road for 10 days. Well, it’s not really “all of a sudden.” This was a trip that’s been planned for weeks/months/huge chunk of time. I wasn’t gonna miss out. I convinced myself that I could do this and I’m determined to do it, darnit.

It’s not easy. My green eggs and ham just aren’t happening well. I’ve eaten food I don’t like and that I’m not comfortable with. I’ve chowed down on greasy local pizza because it was the only thing available. I’ve chowed down on a huge bag of trail mix because I got stressed and found myself eating it out of boredom and anxiety . . . . which only made me more anxious! My anxiety levels are already through the roof because I’ve gained a rather significant chunk of weight relatively quickly. I never dropped below a healthy weight; there’s no reason for me to gain weight. So, that’s causing issues.

The need to restrict, to cut back, to let go, is strong and intense. I’m careful to eat more than I think I need and to eat calorie-dense foods such as nuts and cheeses. My roommate for this trip is vegetarian and is VERY set on “healthy, low-calorie, organic” foods. She has very set ideas as to what “good” food is and what “bad” food is. Heaven forbid she see anyone eating a “bad” food. She goes on a rant about it. She also said something that I think has screwed up my head even worse than it was . . . .  well, two things:

  • I don’t eat corn. Pigs eat corn and have you seen them?
  • Then, she said something that someone said to her when she was heavier. She said, “They said, ‘You’re fat. I won’t sugarcoat it because I’m afraid you’d eat that, too.”

Well, I just about lost it. I FEEL like I’m eating everything and I know I’m eating a lot more than I usually do. Part of that is related to my period, part of it related to coming into this phase of recovery from an INTENSE starvation phase and part of it just stress. I eat more than she does. I feel like I eat more than EVERYONE because I NEVER see them eat.

Right now, I just am having a really hard time dealing with myself and the green eggs and ham recovery. I was determined to make it here, though, darnit, and I’m gonna eat. End of story. I like green eggs and ham! I like them, Sam I Am!

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