Do 40 minutes on the treadmill like yesterday. Yesterday was a good first day back at the gym. How many calories did I burn yesterday?
I beat myself up for not remembering.
Let's do 45 minutes just for cushion.
"The Biggest Loser" is on TV. What a shitty show to play at the gym. Subtitles read, "I burned enough calories to eat a cookie". Go to hell.
Start off walking at 1.5 incline, 3.7 speed. Run at same incline, 6.0 speed. Walk 5, run 5, walk 5, run 5.
30:00. 277 calories. Portia de Rossi wrote in her Unbearable Lightness, that she ran at 6.0 on a 1.0 incline for 30 minutes. I feel good already. Almost past my day's intake. Let's break 300 for the banana I ate before the workout.
35:00. Walk at 3 incline at 3.7 speed. It's a little tiring, so I grab the handles. Then I think, moving my arms back and forth has to burn more calories than grabbing the handles.
44:00. 377 kcal. Back at 1.5 incline. Want to break 400 even if it goes past my earlier decision to do just 45 minutes. A nice round number, 400. 48:10. 400kcal. I reached my goal. I can stop now, but what kind of number is 48:10. Might as well go to 50:00. Why stop at 50 when I can go to 60?
54:20. Feel so powerful. People coming and going on the machines on either side of me. I feel stronger, more intense, more superhuman than those people who give in to their body's signals (there are too many parallels here to my food behaviors). I tell myself, today is the only day I will exercise like this.
55:00. Walk these last 5 minutes. 55:43 470 kcal. Want to break 500. Will this ever end?
59:33 488 kcal. So close, keep pushing. Increase incline to 3.0 because it burns more calories faster. 61:38 500 kcal. Take that, Portia de Rossi.
It's only 8:55PM. Too early to go back home and do nothing so might as well stay and burn some more. Move on to the bicycle. Cigarettes in my bag look so tempting and rewarding. My tendency to delay any sort of gratification, tells me that waiting is going to make them that much tastier.
Damn. 2:46 16 kcal. What is this. Shit, I forgot to suck in and tighten my stomach.
Got a call to open the front door of my apartment. Thank goodness it's only half a block away. I get off the machine. But wait, I forgot to read the kcal burned. I panic a little. Get back on to check and am relieved to see that resuming the workout will show where I left off. 35 kcal. Total of 535 kcal for 1.5 hours. I run to apartment to continue workout. Why walk when I can run? This feels like it's about a 5.0 incline. Open door, run back. I deserve a cigarette, and damn, the wait did make it tastier.
Get back in the gym on to the bicycle. 3:15, 16. Reading my beloved book, Wasted, by Marya Hornbacher. Who the hell reads a memoir about eating disorders at the gym. I do. It reads, "We speak as if there was one collective perfect body, a singular entity that we're all after. The trouble is, I think we are after that one body. We grow up with the impression that underneath all this normal flesh, buried deep in the excessive recesses of our healthy bodies, there was a Perfect Body just waiting to break out. It would look exactly like everyone else's perfect body. A clone of the shapeless, androgynous models, the hairless, silicone-implanted porn stars...As Andy Warhol wrote, "The more you look at the same exact thing...the better and emptier you feel." (p. 47)
19:02, 95 kcal.
"Recent research suggests that an extremely strong desire for academic achievement may be as significant as sexual maturation, if not more so, in the development of eating disorders in young women. There is a combination of...a family that has high expectations of achievement...a child who is prone to excessive self-imposed pressure; and a child who exhibits unusual levels of academic ability and intelligence. The combination often results in mental paralysis.The child may defect from expectations - her own above all else - and take refuge in an entirely antirational set of behaviors that have, in fact, a highly organized structure." (p. 54)
Marya Hornbacher: she is my hero. It's called Wasted. Everybody should read it, whether or not they have an eating disorder. It's a great parenting book.
25:00 126 kcal.
28:30 147 kcal. Need to break 150.
Pedal harder.
30:00 151 kcal.
686 kcal not including the run to and from my apartment.
Time for some arm exercises.
Get on the fixed pulldown. 40 lb (pitiful). 5 sets of 15. I wish these had calorie counters.
I walk to a more open area to stretch and do some crunches. It feels good to be at the gym.
2.25 hours, around 700 kcal burned. I don't want to exercise like this again. Too many memories. But, if I don't do it again or even raise the bar next time, I'm going to feel mentally weak and physically larger.
I am starving.
I get back home, take an amazing, long shower, and I feel weak, shaky. The hot shower leaves me even more hungry, and I contemplate not eating anything to keep up my caloric deficit. I catch myself getting caught up in my old ways and grab a banana. I think bananas are literally the quietest foods, from the peeling, to the chewing, to the disposing of peel. Well, I guess yogurt and pudding are similar in noise-level. I'm not a big banana-lover, partly because it's not juicy at all, partly because it's so dense and has so many calories. But I think, "I burned enough calories to eat a banana" and try to eat as quietly as I possibly can. This takes me back to my bulimic days when I used to binge in the kitchen when everyone was asleep, trying to make as little noise as possible.
But this time I don't purge.
Because I already did.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Dear Body,
I am in a much different, much better place than when I last wrote to you. I still consider my eyes "distorted, conniving lenses". That's never going to change. Just because I am in recovery doesn't mean I'm going to like you. It means I'm going to learn how to look at you in different, more positive ways. Rather than seeing you as a flaw that needs countless fixing, I see you as a thing that moves me and enables me to accomplish tasks. At least, I'm working on it.
I'm learning how to be comfortable in you. I stop to appreciate the warm smell of books. I listen to songs that are soothing to my insides. I mindfully enjoy my dogs' kisses. I enjoy the taste of sugary things without feeling like I've lost total control. My arms don't feel weak anymore when I brush my teeth. I can walk up flights of stairs without getting chest pains. I don't get fainting spells anymore.
Like I said, I'm probably not going to like you, but I can like what you allow me to do. So often, I wish I could regain the space between my thighs. I wish my thighs were the size of my calves, but I am thankful that they allow me to walk long distances without getting weak. I wish my arms didn't look so gelatinous, but that means I can hold my dogs for much longer. I wish my belly didn't protrude so much, but that means there's more to protect what's inside it.
Even though I acknowledge, logically, what you can do for me when properly nourished, I have been slowly tip-toeing back to my old ways. However, I know that I will be OK because "recovery is a process, not a destination." Sometimes, my mind gets the best of me and I don't make pro-recovery choices and it's scary how instantaneously a switch can turn on/off in my brain to get caught up in a behavior. Honestly, I can not envision a life where I don't count calories or not feel like a complete and utter failure when I grab seconds at a Thanksgiving dinner. I can't imagine myself eating out at a restaurant and just ordering whatever sounds good at the moment, instead of choosing the least-caloric meal on the menu. I can't conceptualize giving up my measuring tools, and I definitely can not visualize a life where I don't weigh myself. I wish I could be like those who eat whenever and whatever they want without worrying about their weight.
I have betrayed and deserted you for 11 years, so I understand that it will take a while to earn your trust back. But I will not give up just like how you did not give up on me.
Sincerely,
Liz
I'm learning how to be comfortable in you. I stop to appreciate the warm smell of books. I listen to songs that are soothing to my insides. I mindfully enjoy my dogs' kisses. I enjoy the taste of sugary things without feeling like I've lost total control. My arms don't feel weak anymore when I brush my teeth. I can walk up flights of stairs without getting chest pains. I don't get fainting spells anymore.
Like I said, I'm probably not going to like you, but I can like what you allow me to do. So often, I wish I could regain the space between my thighs. I wish my thighs were the size of my calves, but I am thankful that they allow me to walk long distances without getting weak. I wish my arms didn't look so gelatinous, but that means I can hold my dogs for much longer. I wish my belly didn't protrude so much, but that means there's more to protect what's inside it.
Even though I acknowledge, logically, what you can do for me when properly nourished, I have been slowly tip-toeing back to my old ways. However, I know that I will be OK because "recovery is a process, not a destination." Sometimes, my mind gets the best of me and I don't make pro-recovery choices and it's scary how instantaneously a switch can turn on/off in my brain to get caught up in a behavior. Honestly, I can not envision a life where I don't count calories or not feel like a complete and utter failure when I grab seconds at a Thanksgiving dinner. I can't imagine myself eating out at a restaurant and just ordering whatever sounds good at the moment, instead of choosing the least-caloric meal on the menu. I can't conceptualize giving up my measuring tools, and I definitely can not visualize a life where I don't weigh myself. I wish I could be like those who eat whenever and whatever they want without worrying about their weight.
I have betrayed and deserted you for 11 years, so I understand that it will take a while to earn your trust back. But I will not give up just like how you did not give up on me.
Sincerely,
Liz
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Thank you, Marya Hornbacher
When I was deep in my eating disorder, I was desperate to feel a connection to anything and anyone. I felt alone and isolated from the rest of the world because, well, that's the nature of eating disorders. So ever since I was young - and even now - I found comfort in books and movies about suicide, abandoned children, broken families, and betrayal.
The day I entered treatment was the first time I read about somebody with an eating disorder. Before that, I've never spoken openly with anyone with any sort of mental illness. Many reviews said the book may be triggering, but to me, it was my refuge, my sanctuary. I can read this passage now and see so clearly that I am in a much better place than I was just several months ago.
“People with eating disorders tend to be very diametrical thinkers – everything is the end of the world, everything rides on this one thing, and everyone tells you you're very dramatic, very intense, and they see it as an affectation, but it´s actually just how you think. It really seems to you that the sky will fall if you are not personally holding it up. On the one hand, this is sheer arrogance; on the other hand, this is a very real fear. And it isn't that you ignore the potential repercussions of your actions. You don't think there are any. Because you are not even there.”
-Marya Hornbacher, Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia
The day I entered treatment was the first time I read about somebody with an eating disorder. Before that, I've never spoken openly with anyone with any sort of mental illness. Many reviews said the book may be triggering, but to me, it was my refuge, my sanctuary. I can read this passage now and see so clearly that I am in a much better place than I was just several months ago.
“People with eating disorders tend to be very diametrical thinkers – everything is the end of the world, everything rides on this one thing, and everyone tells you you're very dramatic, very intense, and they see it as an affectation, but it´s actually just how you think. It really seems to you that the sky will fall if you are not personally holding it up. On the one hand, this is sheer arrogance; on the other hand, this is a very real fear. And it isn't that you ignore the potential repercussions of your actions. You don't think there are any. Because you are not even there.”
-Marya Hornbacher, Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Not so smooth-sailing
Recovering from an eating disorder takes a difference approach than recovering from alcoholism or drug addiction. Substance abuse can be reduced to the deceptively simple focus of keeping away from the crack. But you can't keep away from food even if you wanted to. When you go to rehab for an ED, you are taught how to eat "normal" portions like a "normal" person, how to feel about and around food, and how to monitor your hunger/fullness, among other things. When you go to rehab for drugs and alcohol, you are closely monitored to make sure you stay clean during your stay.
What does getting help with depression mean? Learning to keep away from your own mind? It would be a whole lot easier to get rid of Jameson than Liz.
When I was in treatment, it was easy for me to go through the motions; my motto was "fake it 'til you make it." I thought eating healthily and having psychotherapy sessions for hours on end day after day would help with my depression. But I found myself having no ED behaviors for 6 months and still hating myself. Drug addicts, alcoholics, and people with eating disorders have the crutch of a tangible problem, so there are places they could be taken to for help. There are no halfway houses for depressives, no Depression Anonymous that I know of. Instead, depressives are under-treated by psychiatrists. I think this may be a reason why depressives go so far as adapting a tangible problem or committing suicide to get some "real help".
Rehab of any kind is not like a conveyor belt that you ride for 30 days or 30 weeks or however long it takes to get better. You're not pushed off the assembly line all fresh and spanking new, ready to start all over again. It's not a fairy tale where things get worse before they get better and there's a happily ever after. Things get worse, get better, get a little - or much - worse, get better, get worse...you get the picture. It's not like a college course that you take for months, prepare for the exam, pass the exam, and move on with life like it never happened.
Being in recovery is like being a used car. You have to take it to the shop to make sure all its parts are functioning well enough to take on the road. You have to be very gentle and cautious with it to make it last as long as possible before inevitably returning to the shop for something that never really stays fixed. It will always be a used car. You will always be in recovery.
For me, the most infuriating thing about eating disorders is how accepting society is of them. The American definition of "beauty" is so skewed and fucked up, and I do not see it ever changing. People are reduced to merely their looks. On TV and in movies, the attractive ones always end up winning the man/woman and the ugly ones are stupid and lonely. If 2 different people are applying for the same job, the employer will hire the more "attractive" one because people are socialized to believe that attractive people are smarter, more approachable, more successful, and overall, better.
If somebody looks thinner (I'll use a female example), her friends compliment her on how much prettier she looks. Little do they know that that person became thinner by restricting and vomiting, and this positive reinforcement only motivates the person to continue in her eating disorder. After all, receiving acceptance due to her eating disorder is better than no acceptance. Because she is now "prettier", she has friends - or people who never knew was alive, now acknowledges her existence - and is invited to social events. They all go drinking and she, being already so self-destructive, begins to out drink everyone. This calls for even more positive reinforcement as she is considered fun, down-to-earth, sexy. She tells her friends she has to pee, which the friends don't know really means, "I'm going to go purge because alcohol has calories". She stumbles home hungry because of the purge and the drunkenness so she binges and purges, then wakes up the next day only to remember how much excitement has entered her life due to her new thinner look. So she continues to do what she knows brings acceptance. You see the cycle?
Ugh. Thanksgiving's coming up.
What does getting help with depression mean? Learning to keep away from your own mind? It would be a whole lot easier to get rid of Jameson than Liz.
When I was in treatment, it was easy for me to go through the motions; my motto was "fake it 'til you make it." I thought eating healthily and having psychotherapy sessions for hours on end day after day would help with my depression. But I found myself having no ED behaviors for 6 months and still hating myself. Drug addicts, alcoholics, and people with eating disorders have the crutch of a tangible problem, so there are places they could be taken to for help. There are no halfway houses for depressives, no Depression Anonymous that I know of. Instead, depressives are under-treated by psychiatrists. I think this may be a reason why depressives go so far as adapting a tangible problem or committing suicide to get some "real help".
Rehab of any kind is not like a conveyor belt that you ride for 30 days or 30 weeks or however long it takes to get better. You're not pushed off the assembly line all fresh and spanking new, ready to start all over again. It's not a fairy tale where things get worse before they get better and there's a happily ever after. Things get worse, get better, get a little - or much - worse, get better, get worse...you get the picture. It's not like a college course that you take for months, prepare for the exam, pass the exam, and move on with life like it never happened.
Being in recovery is like being a used car. You have to take it to the shop to make sure all its parts are functioning well enough to take on the road. You have to be very gentle and cautious with it to make it last as long as possible before inevitably returning to the shop for something that never really stays fixed. It will always be a used car. You will always be in recovery.
For me, the most infuriating thing about eating disorders is how accepting society is of them. The American definition of "beauty" is so skewed and fucked up, and I do not see it ever changing. People are reduced to merely their looks. On TV and in movies, the attractive ones always end up winning the man/woman and the ugly ones are stupid and lonely. If 2 different people are applying for the same job, the employer will hire the more "attractive" one because people are socialized to believe that attractive people are smarter, more approachable, more successful, and overall, better.
If somebody looks thinner (I'll use a female example), her friends compliment her on how much prettier she looks. Little do they know that that person became thinner by restricting and vomiting, and this positive reinforcement only motivates the person to continue in her eating disorder. After all, receiving acceptance due to her eating disorder is better than no acceptance. Because she is now "prettier", she has friends - or people who never knew was alive, now acknowledges her existence - and is invited to social events. They all go drinking and she, being already so self-destructive, begins to out drink everyone. This calls for even more positive reinforcement as she is considered fun, down-to-earth, sexy. She tells her friends she has to pee, which the friends don't know really means, "I'm going to go purge because alcohol has calories". She stumbles home hungry because of the purge and the drunkenness so she binges and purges, then wakes up the next day only to remember how much excitement has entered her life due to her new thinner look. So she continues to do what she knows brings acceptance. You see the cycle?
Ugh. Thanksgiving's coming up.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Trustworthy Relationships and Unconditionally Safe Territory
Trust is a scary thing. It comes with such a high cost - betrayal. The effects of betrayal can be so damaging.When somebody trusts you me, I feel like so much is expected of me. Sometimes too much. Not that I don't believe I can live up to those expectations, but just the fact that those expectations exist, is scary and nerve-racking.
Maybe they're not so much as expectations as they are standards. A person trusts me because that person holds me to a certain standard - reliable, competent, and honest. In other words, trustworthy. Like when I trust the doctor to prescribe me the right medicine, or my sweater to keep me warm. When someone trusts me and confides in me, it triggers anxiety and makes me think about past instances in which I provided evidence of reliability, competence, and honesty. It makes me second guess myself. I do believe I am trustworthy. I do.
Maybe it's not so much the standards that scare me. It may be the confiding that I am scared of. The confidential information that person tells me that causes me to worry, dwell, and obsess about the person's well-being.
Today someone trusted me and told me a piece of information that I have been obsessing over ever since. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for receiving his trust, but I am more grateful that he has found the comfort that comes from trusting someone. It really brought to the forefront the things we have in common and opened up the way to more meaningful conversation and connection. But at the same time, it brought on other emotions like fear, sadness, helplessness, guilt, and resentment. They're so strong that I almost wish he hadn't told me - I guess that makes me selfish and cowardly. Almost. However, the strongest emotion was relief because we were finally able to put our guards down and invite us to get to know each other better.
There should be more trust in the world. But that only comes from having more trustworthy people and that's where the problem lies. I feel like people are becoming increasingly manipulative and self-serving - in other words, unethical. How do we create trustworthy people? Let us start with ourselves.
Maybe they're not so much as expectations as they are standards. A person trusts me because that person holds me to a certain standard - reliable, competent, and honest. In other words, trustworthy. Like when I trust the doctor to prescribe me the right medicine, or my sweater to keep me warm. When someone trusts me and confides in me, it triggers anxiety and makes me think about past instances in which I provided evidence of reliability, competence, and honesty. It makes me second guess myself. I do believe I am trustworthy. I do.
Maybe it's not so much the standards that scare me. It may be the confiding that I am scared of. The confidential information that person tells me that causes me to worry, dwell, and obsess about the person's well-being.
Today someone trusted me and told me a piece of information that I have been obsessing over ever since. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for receiving his trust, but I am more grateful that he has found the comfort that comes from trusting someone. It really brought to the forefront the things we have in common and opened up the way to more meaningful conversation and connection. But at the same time, it brought on other emotions like fear, sadness, helplessness, guilt, and resentment. They're so strong that I almost wish he hadn't told me - I guess that makes me selfish and cowardly. Almost. However, the strongest emotion was relief because we were finally able to put our guards down and invite us to get to know each other better.
There should be more trust in the world. But that only comes from having more trustworthy people and that's where the problem lies. I feel like people are becoming increasingly manipulative and self-serving - in other words, unethical. How do we create trustworthy people? Let us start with ourselves.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Valuable member of society
That's me!!
Recently, I got a job as a substitute teacher for an awesome company and after less than a week of working, I was offered a permanent teaching position. I am one of the few people who can honestly say, "I love my job." My mom was bathing one of my dogs when I told her the news and she screamed with excitement and clapped her hands like a little girl. I haven't seen her so happy since I got accepted to college 6 years ago. Her reaction and a friend's willingness to celebrate really make me feel good about myself. Having loved ones' support is my biggest motivator and I'm very fortunate to have such people in my life.
Although I love teaching kids, I'll only be doing it for a year. I've decided to go back to school next year to study psychology. I'm so so SO excited to go back to school!! Being around driven students and passionate professors, learning about various cultures and theories, writing papers after papers after papers. I love and miss everything about school - even pulling all-nighters during finals weeks and my compulsive obsession of planning every hour of every day. Plus, it feels good to finally have something to look forward to.
Oh, and I quit smoking cigarettes! It's been nearly a month and I still can't believe it. After 11 years of smoking, I have turned to the patch. The smell of cigarette smoke makes me weak but, surprisingly, drinking helps with the cravings. The worst part about quitting is the sleep. It once took me 4 hours to fall asleep and it feels impossible to lie comfortably. The best part is also the sleep. I've read that wearing the patch to sleep causes vivid dreams so, of course, that's what I decided to do. I like waking up to the thought, "Oh shit, that felt so real!!!" Mostly my dreams are nightmares, but I like having my adrenaline rush, even if it's when I'm asleep.
So, back to being a valuable member of society, I feel pretty damn proud of myself and I will not let anyone make me feel otherwise or stop me from what I want to do. :)
Recently, I got a job as a substitute teacher for an awesome company and after less than a week of working, I was offered a permanent teaching position. I am one of the few people who can honestly say, "I love my job." My mom was bathing one of my dogs when I told her the news and she screamed with excitement and clapped her hands like a little girl. I haven't seen her so happy since I got accepted to college 6 years ago. Her reaction and a friend's willingness to celebrate really make me feel good about myself. Having loved ones' support is my biggest motivator and I'm very fortunate to have such people in my life.
Although I love teaching kids, I'll only be doing it for a year. I've decided to go back to school next year to study psychology. I'm so so SO excited to go back to school!! Being around driven students and passionate professors, learning about various cultures and theories, writing papers after papers after papers. I love and miss everything about school - even pulling all-nighters during finals weeks and my compulsive obsession of planning every hour of every day. Plus, it feels good to finally have something to look forward to.
Oh, and I quit smoking cigarettes! It's been nearly a month and I still can't believe it. After 11 years of smoking, I have turned to the patch. The smell of cigarette smoke makes me weak but, surprisingly, drinking helps with the cravings. The worst part about quitting is the sleep. It once took me 4 hours to fall asleep and it feels impossible to lie comfortably. The best part is also the sleep. I've read that wearing the patch to sleep causes vivid dreams so, of course, that's what I decided to do. I like waking up to the thought, "Oh shit, that felt so real!!!" Mostly my dreams are nightmares, but I like having my adrenaline rush, even if it's when I'm asleep.
So, back to being a valuable member of society, I feel pretty damn proud of myself and I will not let anyone make me feel otherwise or stop me from what I want to do. :)
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
I guess you could call this my bucket list.
This is what I came up with in under 10 minutes:
1. Cook all the recipes in one of Gordon Ramsay's cookbooks.
2. Compose a piano piece.
3. Sponsor a child through an NGO and visit him/her.
4. Knit my own winter socks.
5. Foster dogs.
6. Run my own eating disorders support group.
7. Attend one of Ellen De Generes's shows.
8. Have sex in a swimming pool (private, not public, of course).
9. Go to India, France, and Lebanon, and EAT.
10. Quit smoking.
1. Cook all the recipes in one of Gordon Ramsay's cookbooks.
2. Compose a piano piece.
3. Sponsor a child through an NGO and visit him/her.
4. Knit my own winter socks.
5. Foster dogs.
6. Run my own eating disorders support group.
7. Attend one of Ellen De Generes's shows.
8. Have sex in a swimming pool (private, not public, of course).
9. Go to India, France, and Lebanon, and EAT.
10. Quit smoking.
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