Atypically Recovering: On My Own No Matter How This Goes

Category: Eating Disorder

  • Head In A Blender…

    Blender containing a creamy green mixture around its spinning blade
    Image: WordPress Image Generator

    TW: mentions sexual assault with general descriptions; much was left out intentionally.

    It’s been about a year since I last spoke to my ex-therapist, and a little over a month since the last email. It’s still raw and hard to navigate the emotional toll this has taken, and so many before me. I feel like a fool for not leaving sooner, and at the same time, the breadcrumbing was effective in keeping me around, until it wasn’t.

    I was looking at some messages from June 2023, both to and from my ex-therapist, and I went on a pretty big rant on how I was miserable, not getting better, and was tired of all of it, especially eating. Then it devolved in some descriptions of myself that weren’t family-friendly. That was about 6 months after the first red flags. I’ve got a lousy history when it comes to listening to my gut.

    In 1987 (Jan 10), I was raped, sodomized, and beaten for 6 hours with ‘him’, his fists, and a wine cooler bottle, in Austin, Texas. I’d lived in that apartment for 10 days after getting out of the hospital, where I’d been in traction for 10 days for a back injury. It was the uncle of a baby I took care of during the day while working as a RN at night. He lied his way to my apartment, with a convincing story. I met him briefly when I stopped by to get my car at the old apartment, and then asked the baby’s mom if she’d clean my old apartment for me, paid of course. Her brother was there, and I said hi, but was mostly enjoying watching the baby crawling around their apartment. She told me before I’d ended up in the hospital that her brother was getting out of jail, and would be staying with them. I asked what he’d been in jail for, and she told me that it was ‘wrong place, wrong time’. That’s probably the story he told her. She wasn’t 20 yet, and I was 23, and had no clue about criminal matters aside from my figure skating coach’s six kids being murdered by her husband when I was 14. I was naive, and wanted to help based on the story he told me. It was plausible. I was uneasy, but went to pick him up anyway. I knew he didn’t have a car. I later found out about his prior crimes, going back to his teens, and always reoffending when on parole.

    Eventually, Numbnuts (what I call the rapist) passed out, and I slowly got up to go to the bathroom; I could tell I was still bleeding. He stirred and asked if he and the knife needed to come along, and I stated “Where would I go naked?” It wasn’t a question. He agreed to let me go alone. I was still bleeding quite a bit, and knew I had to get help, so walked back towards the bedroom and saw he was sleeping again, and turned around, grabbed a bath towel, and took off out of the apartment. I ran down the stairs, feeling like he was directly behind me, and then knocked on the neighbors’ door (I’d met Mr a few days earlier, and Mrs the day before). I explained that I’d been raped and he was still upstairs, and asked to use their phone. Mrs grabbed my arm and pulled me inside, locking the door behind me.

    Police began to show up, and a rookie went in, got beat up and thrown out of the apartment (sounded like full on war upstairs as I sat in the neighbors’ apartment). He yelled for someone to call 911 again, and find out where the rest of the police units were. By this time, media started rolling in, and once I made the 2nd call, several additional police showed up. About that time, the ambulance folks came to see how I was doing, and I’m pretty sure I’d gone into shock by then. I could see several police officers with weapons drawn aiming at my balcony upstairs. I didn’t hear the gunshots, but was told that a sergeant had shot Numbnuts (in my bedroom). Then the helicopter showed up to take him to the hospital. He wasn’t killed, so I had to testify for the State, and after lunch, the ADA told me that he wanted to change his plea to guilty. I wouldn’t accept the 40 years being offered, and when they asked what I would accept, I said nothing less than 60 years, since he’d be eligible for parole in 20 years, which was the same as a life sentence at the time of the crime. If only I’d listened to that ‘uneasy’ feeling. I know that nothing excuses what he did, and that me trying to be nice wasn’t a crime, but it was a hard lesson learned. He’d planned to dismember me alive, and turns out I looked like his ex-wife.

    Anyway, the one thing I hang onto from all of that was that I have survived. I hate the term ‘victim’ (and state of mind that can go along with it), and was able to see how I was played that day that was almost my last. I survived, and that’s what matters. I just wish I knew how to move into a more ‘survivor’ mentality with what’s gone on with the ex-therapist. Emotionally, this is harder than the rape because it was someone I knew personally, or thought I could trust what I’d seen from a 30+ year old news show. When 2 people know each other, even if only messages and by phone, and have for several years, it’s not random. When that other person knows many, many personal stories of abuse, neglect, and abandonment, and then does the same in an employment situation, it’s egregious (remember, I paid her for a specific reason). The dependency that was encouraged and ‘groomed’ also means that the one with the power has ‘turned off’ some of the ‘adult’ in their target, by design. It hurts- and that’s what I’m working on fixing in myself.

    At the same time, I still blame myself, even if that’s so completely illogical in this situation, where someone who has done this repeatedly for 40 years is still doing it. A type of serial offender. I know that in this situation, I didn’t have the ‘power’ on my side. She was the one who made decisions, and impacted those in her crosshairs. There’s no professional agency to report to because she never had formal credentials. The international end of this is also frustrating (I don’t recommend seeing anyone who isn’t licensed in the country where the paying party lives).. So, I’m eager to get to the place where I feel more like a survivor. I’m not interested in anything that would mean having to have any future contact, and it saddens me that the person I initially was in contact with was playing her role in starting to control as much of my life as possible. It was about personal gain, from my perspective. There’s more to that, but I’m not up for more tonight.

    I’m no longer a victim of ex-therapist, so that’s a start. I removed myself from the offensive situation before I was too brainwashed to do so, and I’m thankful that I was in a position to do so since I live thousands of miles away, and was never physically held captive. That’s another win, though a slow one that cost more than money. I’ve survived most of my life. I’d like to know, even if not for all that long considering my age, what it’s like to live.

  • When A “Parent FIgure” Violates Emotional Boundaries: Emotional Incest

    Friends gathered around a dinner table sharing food, wine, and conversation
    Image: Generated WordPress


    There is a term for the behavior when a parent/parent figure uses a child as a confidant. They need them for their own emotional stability instead of instilling a strong sense of safety for the child. The term is sometimes referred to as emotional incest. That’s a strong term, but the damage can be as impactful as more overt types of abuse. It can leave the child confused, and feeling responsible for the well-being of those around them. It can cause guilt and shame for things that are the parents’ shame and guilt. It can make the world unsafe to the child who never had a place to go when they needed their own emotional needs met.

    There can be a feeling of never being “enough”, which ties in directly with eating disorders, and the need to disappear out of shame of not being what those around them expect, or the misplaced shame of not being ‘perfect’, however that is defined.
    The role-confusion can leave the child angry, misunderstood, and difficulty knowing their own likes and dislikes when they’ve been programmed to only want what the offending parent wants them to like or dislike.

    This doesn’t have to come from a biological or custodial parent. It can come from relationships built on the inequality of power. Boss/employee, therapist/client, doctor/patient, etc. Whoever has the “adult” (logical) ROLE can wreak havoc on the developmentally younger ROLE in the relationship. The “child” could be a fully grown and independent adult in their own right, but the “adult” takes advantage of their position, and uses it for their own emotional needs. It’s wrong no matter what.

    https://thedawnrehab.com/blog/the-damage-caused-by-covert-incest/


  • Eating disorder Coaches With Requests For Explicit Photos & Encouraging Weight Loss – Vet Your Coaches

    Image- WordPress generated

    I’ve seen several very good eating disorder coaches on YouTube, and it never occurred to me that social eating disorder pages/accounts have become a place for sexual deviants to ‘shop’ for their next twisted ‘pin-up’ image. I think that online coaching can be a good option with the right person, but it’s SO critical to properly vet the person you choose. The ones I like to watch on YouTube are Tabitha Farrar, Elisa Oras, Hanne Arts, and I’m not sure if she coaches, but has her recovery story and podcast on YouTube, and that’s Megsy Recovery. There are many others as well.

    The ones you want to vet are those who lurk online. They like the pro-ana/pro-mia sites. They contact you. They may not all be on the dark web (at least on the surface), because they have to look legitimate, and not be hanging out with the perverts on dark sites if they want the typically vulnerable eating disordered people to consider being in contact. Ask questions about their experience (goes for all types of recovery options), and ask for past patient recommendations. If the person refuses, consider that a firm “no”, and move on.

    This is what happens. The ‘coach’ seems real at first. They build up trust. They may say the right things, but they don’t really encourage weight restoration or adequate nutrition. Then they ask for photo after photo as the patient’s weight drops, and THAT is where the sexual exploitation comes in. The perv who is acting like a coach then can use the photos for his/her own personal ‘entertainment’, but also sell the images.

    https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1002/eat.24074

    NEVER send photos of yourself in full or partial undress. You can’t get them back. IF someone is encouraging you to lose more weight, and asking for more photos, leave. Block them. Report them to your local police for folks in the US (local law enforcement for everyone), and anticipate some kind of FBI investigation if the coach is in a different state/country than you are. Even if nothing comes of your report, the police have it for future victims, and when the numbers add up, it’s harder to just view it as an isolated incident.

    These individuals are actually “PRO-ana” coaches. They want people to be thinner for THEIR own twisted reasons. They are digitally sexually abusing their ‘clients’. They groom them as well as use the photos for blackmail. This is a crime. It’s a form of sex-traffickking if the images are sold.

    https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/articles/202509/i-can-help-you-lose-weight-sweetie

    If this has happened to you, it’s not your fault. You wanted help. You likely felt that the person was looking out for your best interests. But if they want you to stay at an unhealthy weight, or want you to keep losing weight, EVEN if your eating disorder head likes to hear that, get away from that person. Block email, phone, social media access, etc. SAVE the photos on your phone/camera. Yes, you’ll probably have to turn them over to law enforcement, but they are the good guys, and only want to nail the bad ones, not you. They NEED that evidence. If you’d feel better, contact an attorney. Protect yourself. If it happens to be someone you know, get a restraining order. And keep remembering, you’re not the one at fault.

    IF YOU ARE UNDER LEGAL AGE, tell your primary caregiver- whether a parent, grandparent, or if those don’t feel ‘safe’, another trusted family member, teacher, or your school nurse. But tell someone. You are in a more vulnerable position, and the “coach” is also violating laws re: child pornography in many places. That’s a crime punishable with prison time. It’s that serious, and you could help someone else NOT to be targeted if you report your deviant coach.

    *clarificiation: this did not happen to me with any therapists I’ve had over 45 years of various eating disorder treatment/therapy.

  • Healing From Toxic Therapy

    Image- online search (not my photo)

    I found a great post about getting through the aftermath of unsuccessful and/or toxic therapy, and will be using it as a sort of template for this post. Obviously, this is about a therapy relationship, not a social or intimate one. My comments refer that.

    https://www.goodtherapy.org/blog/10-steps-to-recovering-from-toxic-trauma-bond-0110175

    – Make a commitment to live in reality:
    This part wasn’t so hard for me. I’d been feeling odd ‘off’ stuff in my gut for a couple of years before I finally had enough, and blocked my ex-therapist on all communication vehicles except email. I haven’t spoken to her for about a year. The lack of contact has been liberating, though the emails that I only used for a few months (after 7-8 months of NO contact) were mostly benign- but I’m still very guarded. I haven’t heard anything for several weeks- and that’s OK.

    – Live in real time
    This hasn’t been difficult. I don’t have ‘hope’ or ‘what ifs’ with this situation. It’s over. Period. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t grief. Over 3 1/2 years as an ‘official’ patient (scattered and sporadic as contact had become) is a chunk of time, with some OK parts at the beginning. Grief isn’t about hope. That ship sailed long before I cut ties.

    – Live one decision at a time, one day at a time.
    I’m isolated, disabled, and very much a loner, so not a lot of decisions to be made. I have a lot more thoughts about my late dog, late parents, and family who is still alive and part of my life. All-or-nothing thinking hasn’t entered into this for me, because my head is invested in finding something else to help me through the eating disorder (though, admittedly, I sometimes have days when my attitude is more like “forget it”).

    – Make decisions that only support your well-being and sense of self.
    I have trouble with this one. Beyond the chronic medical mayhem, I don’t think much of myself to invest much into me, and I know that has to change. I’ve never been good at affirmations (they literally cause a physical ‘recoil’ reaction), or hearing positive things about myself. I’m not sure how to change that, but it’s on the radar now. I am in self-preservation and self-protection mode, so for now, that has to be enough.

    – Start feeling your emotions
    No. Problem. With. This. One. Mostly the memories of my sweet dog that I had to let go in peace in May 2025 are what get the waterworks going, and I’ve been getting tissues in the 10-box pack from Costco. Living alone, I don’t have to hide when I feel like goose poop, so that helps. I’ve also been missing my late parents more. In some ways I think that’s good since I kind of coasted through mom’s death by trying to help my dad, and got through dad’s death by being numb. I miss both of them. They were human, fallible, and did the best they could with what they had to work with, and while there was trauma from one of them, it was forgiven decades ago.

    – Learn to grieve.
    In this situation it refers to the toxic/painful/harmful therapy hopes. This one is tough. I do have mixed emotions about some things, but I think that’s OK. I have gone through some times of anger, tears, and kicking myself for not leaving when I knew it wasn’t a good situation. There’s more work to be done with this, but knowing that I’m safe and away from additional chaos sometimes is ‘enough’ to get through whatever is painful at the time.

    – Understand the ‘hook’ and identify what, exactly are you losing.
    In a therapy relationship, for me it was the hope of getting well, and not being a slave to the eating disorder ‘voice’ (more like loud thoughts). That’s what I signed up for and what never happened. I lost the image of the person I’d seen on TV who seemed to be such a beacon of hope, when in reality, the entire process was more like a lighthouse without a lit light. There was something there, but it was intangible and too dim to see by design, as well as charisma with a motive. On the surface that ‘beacon’ was idyllic as far as therapy goes. In reality, it was the realization of the delusional views I’d had about someone I never met in person.

    – Write a list of bottom-line behaviors for yourself.
    This one wrote itself. It was the constant requests for money for personal reasons after making it very clear that I could no longer afford therapy. When I stopped sending money, contact dissipated. My original weekly (? – sometimes she did call more often, but there was no rhyme or reason) phone calls came once a month. Early on, they were more frequent. Messages weren’t seen for up to a week. Emails weren’t read for months. Those are deal-breakers. Line in the sand drawn and crossed multiple times UNTIL I stopped complying.

    – Build YOUR life.
    I’m limited in what I can do physically, but I do have things I enjoy when I’m able to be more active. Even on ‘slug’ days, I like music, and planning things to do around my apartment, which is a disaster from a move that half killed me in June/July 2022, and activity restrictions that started when therapy did (in late June 2022). They were set up by both my ex-therapist and my dietician who hadn’t met, but told me the same things, which was helpful. So I may have modified dreams, but they’re still good and give me something to look forward to, even if it takes a considerable while to get done.

    – Build healthy connections.
    As I said above, I’m isolated and have been a loner for a long time, and I’m OK with that. My dog was probably my closest ever relationship since we were together 24/7 for 12 1/2 years. I’m not a people person any longer. When I was working, I loved my job, but that’s been over for 24 years. I do still have some contact with two friends who are former coworkers, and they’re the kind of friends that I may not talk to very often, but it’s like we just hung up the phone from the last call each time we talk. I also have a few friends here, and some family who don’t live nearby, but who are incredibly dear.

    More goes into healing a broken relationship that is so emotionally intimate, especially when it was supposed to help heal a disorder that can be lethal. There’s some ‘un-brainwashing’ to be done. There’s finding that former core person and ways to minimize the pain of memories of what was, and what will never be. I’ve been using YouTube videos by Tabitha Farrar and Elisa Oras, as well as ‘in the moment’ recovery videos by Elzani/Elzani Singleton, Megsy Recovery, and surfing other channels. I often have ‘Sorted Food” or “Grackle” on when I’m eating, as distraction and to watch people who ‘do food’ normally. For more lighthearted goofiness, ‘Jolly’ is fun. Use what works for you, to manage the void and tame the voice. I’m no expert, obviously, but I’m looking for anything that might help, when what I’d hoped for didn’t pan out.

    I’ve had several therapists over the 45+ years. Most were good, but not all. If the above comments on the points in the blog post don’t fit, consider this:
    https://psychcentral.com/blog/recovering-narcissist/2019/03/5-signs-of-narcissistic-therapists-the-ultimate-covert-wolves-in-sheeps-clothing#1-They-violate-boundaries

  • Looking Back At Food Logs During The Time With The Ex-Therapist

    Image- online search

    TW- brief mention of calories
    Font size is also not what I wanted, so off to figure that out.

    I was looking back at old food logs from about 7 months into “treatment” with my former eating disorder therapist, and was stunned to see that the calorie range was 230-900 calories/day most of the time; 1000 was a BAD day… this was while being told what to eat by the ‘therapist’, who would then tell me I wasn’t eating enough… ??? No wonder my body hung on to every calorie when my dietician told me how to increase calories (she had online access to my food log). During the time when my body was still being starved, my dietician brought up supplements multiple times. Being ‘atypical’, and wanting to lose more weight, I rejected that idea, and my ex-therapist didn’t seem bothered enough to consider them, even when I told her what the dietician had said. I should have listened to the one with the Masters’ degree in nutrition.

    Until I started listening to my dietician, mostly because my ex-therapist wasn’t available and didn’t see messages for days to a week at a time, I was still in starvation mode, and my body wasn’t able to start to repair itself. At all. I went into the calorie increase with the mentality of “just get it over with”, and went a bit too fast. I eventually gained back the 65 pounds I’d lost, and was despondent over it. I still have trouble justifying feeding that thing I see in the mirror.

    At this time, my ex-therapist was missing in action a lot of the time, and had no idea what I’d been eating for months… as someone who was supposed to be managing my food intake. It took a year to finally get a food list from her after multiple promises of “I’ll send you a food list tomorrow” (witnessed by my dietician when ex-therapist called during an appointment one day and joined in). When I finally got it, it read like something from Weight Watchers- not the current view that there should be NO restriction during recovery from restrictive eating disorders, regardless of weight/body size. There is repair work that needed to be done, not sending me into acute renal failure/acute kidney injury for the 2nd time in roughly 2 years, while being ‘guided’ by said ex-therapist.

    There was also the issue with how to measure what I ate. She gave vague spoons of this, or a third mug of that… being diabetic, with kidney disease caused by poor perfusion from malnutrition, and gout, I needed measurements to determine insulin dose and to make sure I didn’t go over protein restrictions. What size spoon? How big is the mug? In the U.S. a mug could be 12 ounces or 20 ounces… I needed standard measurements. That wasn’t about eating disorder ‘behavior’, but for medical safety.

    When my hunger cues started to come back, she told me to eat rice cakes and vegetables. Those are incredibly triggering from the bad relapse in 1996, and while I do like vegetables, that wasn’t what my body needed. Everything was stuck in the outdated clinic methods that so many struggled with that is coming out more and more. I thought I was just being too uptight. She was supposed to get me through this stupid disorder, not contribute to it. She also told me about some horrible rye thin cracker things she likes… it was like eating burnt sandpaper sprinkled with bird shit. AND they’re considered diet foods that I wasn’t supposed to eat according to her earlier ‘rules’.

    I’ve had an NG (nasogastric tube) in for 4 years, with a 2 month reprieve a few months back. I need to have fluids consistently for kidney function to stay where it is and not get me into the stage where transplant lists are discussed (won’t do that), and with food, it’s hard to get it in some days. I am drinking most of the fluids now, but the tube is there for supplementation when I just can’t cram anything else in with slow stomach emptying (result of eating disorder as well as autonomic nervous system disorder). Most of the time, it’s the minimum that gets in, but I do make an effort to do better than that. I didn’t have a tube before starting to eat more, which still isn’t enough. For most of my life, my calorie intake was 700-900/day. There was a period after a 1986 outpatient program that banned diet sodas when I consumed way too much in the way of caloric fluids (and I gained a lot of weight), but otherwise, food intake has always been restricted from the time I was about 6-7 years old.

    So, I’m trying to learn ‘normal’ for the first time (and someone I know sent me a food list for ‘normal’ people), and unlearn the chaos from the last 4 years. There are many days when I just think it’d be better to just get back to my ‘normal abnormal’, and settle where I was for most of my life. I’d eat stuff that wasn’t that great, but in very small portions. I’d also eat healthy stuff, in smaller portions. The idea of just eating what sounds good is something I’d like to do, but don’t think I deserve weighing what I do- and yet I understand metabolic slowdown from restriction. I’m stuck in the space between the trapezes.

    I do eat more now than I did in January and February of 2023, but freak out if I go over X calories/day which is still several hundred less than I’m supposed to eat for my age, weight, and activity level (slug). I’m physically limited enough that even walking outside is risky. I have a cart to hang on to when I take out the trash, and a rolling walker for appointments on flooring that isn’t ‘home’. If I decide that I don’t want what I’d planned out, I have to re-do the entire day to compensate for my whims. This is after 3 1/2 years with the ex-therapist, and the last 2-1 /2 years when I was still a patient of NO input from her at all about what I was eating. So much for “I’ll talk you through every bite if I have to”… which wasn’t what I wanted. I just wanted to get to a place where food wasn’t the enemy, and I didn’t resent having to eat it.

    My dad was preoccupied with his weight (as was my mom), and I asked him several times when he was just going to enjoy the food he wanted to eat. He had no answer, though did loosen up in his later years. Now, I can’t answer that same question, and I’m not getting any younger.

  • Breadcrumbing: Why We Tolerate It Until We Can’t

    Image: online search- not my photo

    I found this article about breadcrumbing when I was looking at stats (“clicks”) on the blog site, and it’s well done, and offers some ideas for setting boundaries to protect oneself. I wish I’d searched for information about what was going on much sooner than I did. I hope this helps someone who is still in that mental struggle of feeling conflicted about the person they thought they knew vs. the reality of what’s going on. It’s hard. It’s easy to feel ‘stupid’ for not seeing it sooner. It’s a total mindfuck at times. But there is a way to escape the grip of manipulation by someone who is supposed to be helping.

    https://serenity-sessions.com/breadcrumbing-psychology-how-to-stop-chasing-emotional-crumbs/

  • This Is Not Easy

    Photo: mine

    I’ve posted a lot about my experiences with the former eating disorder therapist I was with for over 3 years (have known for about 4 1/3 years at this point), and published one yesterday that was especially painful, because it was in response to an article that adds to the list of those who also experienced ‘unsatisfactory’ results. I don’t do this lightly, and it’s not from a place of malice. It’s been emotional whiplash going through the various feelings I’ve had, going back to January 2023, and building from there. I want to make a few things clear.

    In the beginning, and for a fair amount of time, I truly enjoyed talking to my former therapist. She had a tone of voice that was soothing the majority of the time. Later, it was clear that it was more of a grooming process, but in the moment, I would calm down after talking to her. I slept better. I didn’t realize that the social tone to the calls was the entirety of the ‘therapy’. She has a great sense of humor, and I looked forward to the spontaneous things that would have both of us laughing.

    There’s grief involved in this, in spite of the pain that was caused. There’s the loss of recovery with her, as well as the loss of who I thought she was. And yet, she has helped people. The loss of future years without the eating disorder ‘voice’ is probably the hardest to come to terms with, and while I’m trying on my own via YouTubers (and their books if they have them), I’d wanted help from the person I saw on TV in 1996 after getting home from a crap facility in California. It was a replay of the first 20/20 episode dedicated to the clinic. I was amazed at the clarity of seeing that it was about self-worth that was something Hilda Bruch discussed in the 70s, but had been buried for a couple of decades.

    There has been a lot of negative press about this therapist going back 40 years, but not everything I experienced was ‘bad’. I also think that the developmental stages that are arrested in so many of us are important to acknowledge, though the regression without ‘un-regressing’ wasn’t useful, and did create more dependency than I’d normally allow myself to engage in. With the decreasing contact, I became more aware of what my logical mind was telling me because there was no more reinforcement of her ideas and ‘rules’ when she went ‘missing in action’. She lost me when she had more contact after getting what she wanted from me at the time (money for personal matters). And, when she didn’t call about a very important medical test prep, I felt like she’d green-lit my possible death from what is felt to be at high risk of becoming cancer. My heart sunk, and I felt a physical ‘drop’ in my chest when she didn’t make the call she’d planned. I knew it was over, and blocked her on Facebook and WhatsApp. Until then, I was still hoping (with a lot of doubts) that something would shift, and I’d see glimpses of truly getting well. That never happened.

    It’s not easy to write something that is in all likelihood going to hurt someone I’d spent 3+ years focused on as the person who would get me out of the mindset of an eating disorder. That for the first time in over 50 years, I had a bit of hope that my childhood and later teen and adulthood restriction would go away. She would tell me that it was possible. And then I was basically adrift on my own. This blog’s purpose isn’t to hurt anyone, but to allow me a place for the expression of all kinds of emotions and experiences. I don’t have people here that I discuss much with, mostly because they just don’t ‘get it’. That’s another loss with the end of ‘therapy’ with someone who was too busy for me, unless it was to message about her own ‘stuff’.

    There is no explanation for how she’s treated (some) people going back to the 80s. That this is a pattern makes it even more egregious. There’s nothing that can fix that. There’s nothing that can make up for the reinforcement of the lack of self-worth when she decided who is worth the time, but still took on new patients when there wasn’t time for the ones she already had. There’s no ethically sound excuse for how so many have ended up so hurt. And that was completely her choice about who she gave her time to, which further reinforced feeling worthless.

    But there’s also the more human response to still want to see something good somewhere in a declining and painful ‘disposal’ of the supposedly therapeutic situation. Many of us blame ourselves for just about anything, even when we’re logically not in the least bit able to control whatever situation is on our minds. This has been no different, though I know that I did my part by being ready for phone calls that were nearly always late, when they happened at all. I ate what she told me to eat (when she was still in contact enough to make that reasonable). I cut out things I didn’t have an issue with because she ‘said so’. I gave up deciding what to eat. I spent money on organic food that she was so adamant about, even when there were times I had to pick and choose because my budget didn’t allow for ‘bougie’ types of food. Now, I’m thankful for store brands on sale.

    There has been anger at times when the hope of getting well seemed futile because of her notable absence. I paid what she agreed to before getting an invoice each month. She made choices, and in the past those choices cost her the clinic in Canada. But she’s ‘always right’ when listening to her, or reading others’ accounts in online court records or books. The only choices I had were to stay with or leave therapy. My hope of getting well kept me longer than I should have stayed. My experience as a RN, who worked in many areas of nursing including with psychiatric patients, told me that I needed to protect myself. From a therapist. That isn’t about her, but about saving what I could of myself. I had no contact with her for about 7-8 months, but in a moment of weakness on a really lousy day, I emailed her. She responded fairly soon. I’m much more guarded with what I discuss, and to me that feels like another act of self-preservation, which should never be part of any relationship. The emails have been cordial, and in better time than when I was actually a patient.

    I hope that more people will come forward after the Besson article, and for others to have more information before making decisions to do therapy with anyone. I hope that the courage of Isabella de Carvalho-Heineken can help save others from feeling like this, and others out there who have done so in silence will share their stories- not to hurt the former therapist, but to heal themselves. And I hope that the seemingly universal fear of those of us who did not get well from the self-proclaimed ‘anorexia whisperer’ (not her term) will fade as we feel freed to talk about what is our truth, backed up with the voices of others who have felt this same pain.

  • The Sylvain Besson Article About Isabella Heineken and Peggy Claude-Pierre

    Image: online search; not my image.

    I believe Isabella Heineken. I’m saddened, yet not surprised by the Sylvain Besson (Swiss investigative journalist) article about Isabella Heineken of the Heineken beer family and her 4 year ordeal as a teenager being a patient of P Claude-Pierre. I’ve seen too many similar stories, and read enough to know that her story isn’t unique amongst patients of the person who seemed to offer so much hope, but never did have a nearly %100 cure rate as claimed in the ABC’s (American Broadcast Company) 20/20 episode in the mid-late 90s. That’s where I first heard of Ms. Claude-Pierre. And, why I wanted her for my therapist if I ever overtly relapsed. My head is all over the place writing this.

    https://www.youtube.com/shorts/kW3ZS17sbcg

    https://www.tagesanzeiger.ch/heineken-tochter-missbrauch-durch-magersucht-heilerin-672561764585

    English translation: (might have to scroll down a bit to see the text)
    https://www-24heures-ch.translate.goog/anorexie-un-fille-heineken-sous-lemprise-dune-guerisseuse-603161106967?_x_tr_sl=fr&_x_tr_tl=en&_x_tr_hl=en&_x_tr_pto=wapp

    This has gone on for 40 years. The Barbara McClintock book (2002) has more examples of good, not so good, and abusive practices (some by staff) during the earlier years Ms. Claude-Pierre (“P” for the remainder of the post) was “helping” patients with eating disorders, leading to the closure of the Montreux Clinic in Victoria, BC, Canada.

    https://quillandquire.com/review/anorexia-s-fallen-angel-the-untold-story-of-peggy-claude-pierre-and-the-controversial-montreux-clinic/

    There is so much about this that is sad. I’m all for accountability, as well as supporting those who have been harmed by anyone. The past 4 years of my life have been a rollercoaster of emotions from initial relief that someone understood me to the heartbreaking realization that I was a non-entity to someone who told me one thing, and showed me with actions something completely different. I wanted to be a success story. But all I got was financially drained and am still in lousy shape, with the longest period of active restriction in my life happening while being ‘helped’ by the person who was supposed to be able to get anyone through prolonged eating disorders. In previous posts, I’ve described a life of restriction that I refer to as active and passive- the passive restriction was how food was treated in my family, so my ‘normal’ until the last few years. During P’s ‘watch’ I also ended up in acute renal failure. Again. Fortunately, I have a good nephrologist.

    For those still with P, has she denied you your education? Has she isolated you from friends and family? Does she have possession of your passport and/or money? Are you so emotionally damaged now that you can’t see the control and admiration she demands? Can you come and go as you please? Is she telling you to take (supplements) or eat things you either don’t like, aren’t safe for medical conditions, or are forbidden by her for unproven reasons? Has she given you a ‘special’ name to ultimately reinforce her power in your life? Has she asked you for money for personal reasons, not associated with your “therapy”? Has she suddenly restricted your computer time? Has she vilified patients who no longer see her as some heaven-sent rescuer?

    I sent multiple emails to her when I was still a patient about things that were bothering me with her approach- which was basically ignoring me to help those who paid more to live with her, or other reasons- that’s how it felt to me, though she denies it. I sent her my reservations long before blogging. I got no response. Those emails weren’t seen for months, by which time I no longer considered myself her patient. While others were getting well starting after I began ‘therapy’ with P, I was paying to be blown off ( during part of that time, until the end of 2024, but she literally begged me to stay for another year without paying, and I got what I paid for). There was more contact if I sent her money for personal reasons which gave me less to survive on for myself (I’m on a fixed disability income that she knew about). She actually told me to sell personal possessions to get money to send to her (I have the screen shots). When I quit sending money, contact dramatically dropped (but she’d blame me for it, saying my perceptions were wrong… nobody can qualify someone else’s view on something that impacts them) and hearing from her less and less, finally only getting a call once a month with an account about various personal issues (then take a leave of absence and get well enough to come back and do the job).

    As I said above, she didn’t see most of the emails for MONTHS, starting while I was still a patient, but wanted to control food again, She didn’t see messages for up to a week, so how was managing food supposed to work? I hope she isn’t sick, and is actually OK. She had been a source of hope, until I became a patient. After about 6 months, I was getting the first indications that things weren’t OK. She also told me her books (5 of them) would be published in late 2022 (the summer I started with her), and the first of five was mentioned in her blog in 2013. Now she says this year, “promising” to send me money when they are published… I’m not holding my breath when a simple phone call was often too much. And how about the year she said she was recording videos for a website that never materialized? She said that Louis Vuitton wanted to buy it (that company doesn’t ‘do’ online therapy) when asking me to sell things to send her money. I have the screenshots. So was I being blown off just to do other things, unconcerned that I was still floundering and never got past the early part of Stage 2 (of her 5 part wellness scale) ? But she had time for the 2-3 “kids” (adults) living with her.

    When she did follow through on phone calls, she’d often fall asleep multiple times in one call. I’d have to tap on the phone to wake her up. She very often did not follow through on planned calls, leaving me hanging and postponing doing other things, When she told me to eat limited ‘allowed’ foods that I never ate regularly, I complied, and had to get used to crap I didn’t really want (she never made me eat things I hated- just had a line-up of foods that was a little weird for me). One night, after a difficult day with food in early 2023, she called me after getting home from ‘food police’ duty with a patient that ate at restaurants, and yelled at me while she told me what to eat. It was late at night in my time zone. I hadn’t heard that tone from her before, and it was frightening… “don’t take all day to eat that cracker”, “eat faster”, etc (I have medically documented swallowing issues, so dry crackers are often difficult, and she knew that). It wasn’t what she said, but it was the burning acid in her voice that was so alarming. That wasn’t common- I want to be clear on that. But when her usual tone of voice was SO different, it was incredibly scary. And another means of control by a tone resulting in fear.

    At one time, she’d planned to fly me to Switzerland to stay for a few months, but I already have a personal policy that I don’t go anywhere that I can’t get myself home from without anyone else in the mix. I’m extremely independent, which may be one of the reasons I became less worthwhile to her, though she said she “loved me like a daughter”. I did have some emotional dependency until it turned into a need to protect myself emotionally.

    “Therapy” consisted of socially toned phone calls. There was nothing about how to change my head. I sent her the information about my past that she asked for, but it was rarely discussed, and nothing about what to do with it. Nothing about actual nutrition info beyond her food rules (which were not nutritionally sound). I was told to avoid ‘nightshades’ (potatoes- though that was loosened up, bell peppers, eggplant, tomatoes with skin, etc). That cuts out a lot of vegetables and botanical fruits. I never heard about her “confirmed negativity condition”. I was supposed to get better just because she listened to me during those phone calls that actually did happen (there was an email response implying that).

    The thing that is hard for people to understand when they hear about the negative stuff is just how disarming P can be. She initially comes across as being the saving grace of all things. Her tone is comforting and it’s easy to get brainwashed and breadcrumbed because there’s a feeling that a bit of her is better than none of her. She did make the initial eating less stressful. Then she would have to get off of phone calls to go and cook for those living with her… OK, fine. But don’t tell me that when for me opening the fridge door was a source of a lot of tears and SO hard. I didn’t want to hear that she had people who did nothing to get their own food, and just sat around waiting for it. I just felt more worthless. I learned that I should have listened to MYSELF when I began to feel doubts in January 2023. Admittedly, I slept better after talking to her in the earlier years. And then it all became a nightmare of constant doubt. I also didn’t want to give up on the hope I had in the person I saw on 20/20, but found that the person I saw on TV didn’t really exist, for long anyway. It’s hard to feel that someone really gets it, only to find out that may not be the case.

    She ended up restricting my food more than I did. There were fear foods and a lot I restricted, but I’d always been a portion-shrinker more than anything. I’d eat many things that some people with EDs won’t eat, but I’d have a bite (teaspoon), or a fraction of a portion. When I told her that my physical hunger cues were starting to kick in, she told me to eat rice cakes and vegetables. Yes, I want to lose weight being ‘atypical’, but ALL of the current eating disorder recovery information I’ve seen after trying to find some help since it wasn’t coming from P talks about eliminating all restriction, no matter the person’s weight since restriction just keeps metabolic rates down (something that P talked about, but her food instructions didn’t match up).

    She is still working from her views first formed in the 80s. After the first 8 months or so, she never asked about what I ate. I stopped sending photos of what I was eating after she told me a weight of a new patient (not the weight on arrival, but that’s how she made it sound), and I was ashamed to eat at all, but she just assumed that it was because some people don’t like to talk about what they eat. I was barely getting 1000 calories/day. It felt like it didn’t matter if I ate or not. Telling me someone weighed 29kg was incredibly triggering, and the vast majority of eating disorder therapists would know that. When I followed my dietician’s advice to gradually increase calories (whom P had required me to see here locally, which was good), I gained a lot of weight, which has made things harder emotionally, and my body started to build back a lot of muscle. Muscle weighs more than fat, and I want the muscle gone so the scale shows better numbers. That’s where my head still goes after 3+ years as a patient of hers. I’m no different.. still have to have ‘numbers’ that feel safe.

    Others have said that P’s presence in their lives eventually waned, and they felt abandoned. I can relate to that. She knew of past abandonment and trauma issues, and just added to them. Even if I had any trust left to get help, I couldn’t afford it.

    But here’s where it gets emotionally difficult. I don’t wish anything ‘bad’ for her. She has to live with herself, and that must be difficult with needing to move so often. I don’t want her to be ill. I do wish she’d retire, both for the sake of patients who end up in the same state as so many of us, but also for her to have time to enjoy her life without ‘strays’ living with her. I wish that she could see how she impacts others without blaming the patient for things they point out about how she comes across to them (got an email from her chewing me out over that). l wish she didn’t seem to need the validation from vulnerable people who are known for their empathy and ability to sense the void in others.

    I know the Besson article is difficult to read (it’s possible to translate it bits at a time, but I don’t know the rules on doing that legally for posting it all in English here), but if there wasn’t truth behind the story, it wouldn’t have been written by one of Switzerland’s most highly regarded investigative reporters. Someone like that doesn’t publish something without doing homework, and he did that for a year before it was published. It’s been overwhelming to see the impact on yet another person, and know the fear of speaking out… I’m scattered writing this because of the ‘surveillance’ by P’s live-ins (blocked some more FB profiles today). But were it not for the Besson article, I wouldn’t be writing this. The same things in the McClintock book continue to happen. That’s sad.

    I believe Isabella, and am thankful for her courage to speak out. I understand the fear about coming forward. She encourages all of us to speak up, so for Isabella, I won’t minimize my story, though I wasn’t held captive physically like she and many others were. But in addition to the eating disorder, I now feel I have to recover from P as well, and that’s hard to reconcile with the hope I once had.

    Screenshot

  • Slipping with fluid intake

    Image: Online search (not my photo)

    After 2 months without the NG tube for supplemental fluids, I’m coming to a point where I have to decide how long I can coast with the bare minimum fluid intake for my kidneys. There have only been a handful of days that I’ve gotten 2 liters in… most days it’s about 1500-1700 cc, so the bare minimum for where I’m at with stage 3b CKD (chronic kidney disease). To say I’m disappointed is a gross understatement. I want to be rid of the tube for good, and thought that I’d been making some progress, but truth is I have not.

    SO, I’m not sure how to do this for a permanent ‘fix’. My thoughts are that if I continue to drink the 1500-1700 (or as much as I can get down- more if possible), I could just use the tube to supplement the balance, and gradually increase what I drink in smaller increments, so I don’t end up with more reflux and bloating. This also impacts food intake, but that will always be second to fluids in terms of importance. I also have been struggling with electrolytes some days (not all). I’m not supposed to limit sodium a lot, but if I notice more swelling in my ankles and feet, I am supposed to cut back some. But I still need ‘enough’, which for me, to avoid severe muscle cramping, that’s between 2500 and 3000 mg of sodium.

    It’s been so nice not to be hooked up to a bag of fluids for hours each day, and to just be able to get up and do things without having to disconnect everything. It’s been great not having something hanging out of my face, making me look more ‘different’. It’s been great not feeling the tube. I don’t mind drinking water (usually with a bit of lime juice powder), and have tried various other things like sparkling unsweetened water, Spindrift, and the only flavor of Ollipop that I like (Crisp Apple). But volume tolerance is still a significant issue. That’s been the entire purpose of the tube- to bypass the volume issue by getting fluids in more slowly. And it worked, but who wants some stupid tube, or to be hooked up to something for 6-8 hours a day?

    It’s been something that I’ve been thinking about for several weeks, and I can’t wait a lot longer to make a decision. I can’t risk more kidney damage. I won’t do dialysis, so I have to protect what I have. And yet, I don’t want the tube. But I also have to be logical. I’m discouraged. I know I’ve given this a fair trial period, and now, I need to do what is safer, but feels like failure. I’m enough of a freak with food, and having the tube just feels like more ‘defectiveness’. But my kidneys… if I know that I didn’t do something and the CKD gets worse, that would be really hard to deal with, knowing I had a way to help prevent it, but didn’t.

    I’ve been having more frequent headaches with nausea, which could also be a fluid/electrolyte thing. I’m also exhausted. My blood pressure and heart rate are doing well ‘enough’, so that’s good- I haven’t entered dangerous territory again, and I need to do something before I get back to that point. My nursing knowledge needs to take the lead on this, and not my fear of fluid weight and not wanting to ‘fail’ this. Two months is the longest I’ve gone without the NG since July of 2022. I tried, and did better than I have with multiple previous attempts, but it’s not enough of a buffer to keep my kidneys protected. Bare minimums aren’t enough for days that I tolerate less by mouth. I know what I have to do. I just hate that I’m not doing better without it.

  • I Found Something Interesting… A Final Chance?

    Photo: online search for free photos; not my photo

    https://www.edinstitute.org

    I came across a short video by someone on YouTube that I respect and find to have very solid information on healthy eating disorder recovery. She talked about the Homeo-dynamic Recovery Model (HDRM). The link above goes to the main website for this model, and has a LOT of articles and research (able to be duplicated, and conforms to the scientific method of research). It’s been very interesting, and I sent the links to the dietician I used to see for her thoughts- I will hear back from her after she’s had a chance to review the materials.

    BUT, something this model goes into more detail about is the amount of calories needed to repair organs and bodily systems. I’ve never made it to my maintenance calorie goal, and the MINIMUM I’d need to consume for organ repair is about double what I’m struggling to get in now. And I’m terrified of the weight gain that is inevitable with that. But I’m also intrigued at the idea of organ repair (especially my kidneys). The minimums are non-negotiable (though this is for adults in the community who are responsible for themselves) because with maintenance, there’s nothing left for repair. It makes sense, and it’s scary.

    Because of medical issues (diabetes, chronic kidney disease/CKD, and gout), protein amounts can’t go up with the calories, so that means a lot more carbs, and a LOT more fat. The same dietician ‘liberated’ peanut butter about 6-7 years ago when she told me I was under-eating and that in order to burn fat, I needed to consume fat (talk to your own healthcare provider for what is right for your body). So, that means that I’d need a lot of nuts, nut butters, olives, coconut, and avocados/guacamole. It’s something I need to work out like I did with the old diabetic exchange lists, and modify it to do this.

    The thing that keeps sticking with me is the term “homeo-dynamic” instead of homeostasis- and that makes so much sense. While the body tries to maintain a state of homeostasis, it’s a constant ‘living’ adaptation to conditions at the time, and therefore more ‘dynamic’ and not ‘static’. It’s acknowledging that there isn’t some constant state, but a continually sensing and correcting all that it can when something is out of whack. Anyone who has been abusing their body is out of whack. Damage has been done in varying degrees. By acknowledging that damage needs more calories to repair, and that the body is constantly adjusting to get to an optimal state, this makes sense to me.

    It’s an offshoot of the Maudsley Method, that has been around for ages and has research linked to it. Most of the Maudsley Method patients are teens or young adults still living at home with family based therapy at its core. HDRM is designed for adults who are not in hospital or treatment centers, and able to make decisions and monitor themselves, as hard as that is. The one non-negotiable ‘rule’ is the calorie ‘minimums’… there are no maximums, which terrifies me because of being in a larger body to start with. But if it could repair some of the things that I’ve trashed with 50+ years of restricting/being restricted? That’d be such a win.

    I’m thinking of challenging a single meal, or a single day, just to get an idea of what it would be like. I don’t have good volume tolerance, and would have to pick foods that are calorically very dense- sounds like a definite first world problem, but it’s incredibly inconvenient, and when the bloating gets bad, it’s painful. And the eating disorder thoughts will be brutal- that’s a given. But I’m willing to consider a different way of looking at things, especially when one of the YouTubers I respect used it herself, and is now well and in her second pregnancy.

    I don’t have much to lose in trying, other than being freaked out when gaining a bunch of weight. I have to tell myself that I can stop, because feeling backed into a corner isn’t a good place to be. And also keep telling myself that once damage is repaired, my body can turn its attention to what my natural set point is, and where my weight is supposed to level off. So, I have work to do to figure out how much of what foods will work within the medical restrictions, but I’ve had to do that before.

    There’s also a book with all of the articles in it (good for highlighting and making notes):
    “Recover From Eating Disorders” by Gwyneth Olwyn

    Article on calorie needs from the EDI site:
    https://www.edinstitute.org/orientation-basics/food-is-the-foundation?rq=minimum%20calories

  • Dislike vs. Fear

    Photo; Pexels image, cropped

    TW: talk of calories and restriction


    No matter how long I’ve been at this, I know that some of the things I say I don’t like are really food fears. I do have some legit “hate” foods {baked beans, sweet potatoes, peas, winter squashes (acorn, butternut, etc), cooked carrots, kidney beans, lemongrass/ rosemary/ginger if they’re the main flavors, raw tomatoes, ‘al fredo’ anything, and others}, but there are also things that I’m just plain terrified of, and haven’t been able to get near for a long time, or if I did, my ‘head’ made the idea of repeating the exercise too miserable to consider- casseroles, restaurant food that has no nutritional information, pecan pie, etc.

    While I still restrict calories and some categories of foods, I am better about trying things with 1-3 bites, depending on what it is. Much of the time, it’s just about getting the macros in to protect my kidneys, minimize muscle gain, and aim for weight loss. I have re-tried a few of the ‘hate’ foods, and I truly can’t stand them. Some go back to young childhood when I’d eaten them (cooked carrots, baked beans, cold french fries) and I threw them up immediately. My body pushed the ‘eject’ button- it wasn’t intentional. But the disgust, and frankly the ‘reject flavor’, has stuck with me for over 5 decades. I think it’s pretty clear that those are food ‘hates’, and not simple avoidance of calories.

    Except for very rare instances when biological hunger overrides my restricting, I’m about 500-700 calories short of my daily caloric intake ‘goal’ set by the dietician I saw for several years (and who gave good advice; solid, logical, and understood the fear). I could have a serving of something decadent, and still be under my calorie goal ‘limit’. And yet, I can’t just eat something for the sake of enjoyment or convenience. There has to be a reason for the food to be bothered with- carbs to avoid acute renal failure again, fats to burn fat, protein for cell structure, etc. But I still want my muscle mass to shrink, and to lose as much weight as possible, even though I end up mentally trashed. Even the ‘bingeing’ is within %150 of my goal calorie intake, so it’s a minor binge as far as ‘real’ binges go- but if it’s unplanned, it’s ‘bad’ and I’m terrible for ‘giving in’ to my body’s reaction to biological hunger.

    If someone comments about a food being ‘bad’ (to them), I wonder if I’m ‘bad’ for it not being on my ‘bad’ list. If someone says something is good, I find all kinds of reasons why I medically shouldn’t (or sometimes can’t) have something, or that my body isn’t small enough to deserve to eat a food just because it sounds good. There is no ‘neutral’ food to speak of. There are those that I don’t panic about, but would prefer to avoid. If I enjoy something, it’s an automatic feeling of having done something sketchy, and therefore ‘bad’. There is no escape.

    Because of how long this has gone on (45+ years on my own, and another 10 prior to that when my mom bribed me to lose weight when I wasn’t fat, paying $1/pound for each pound I lost or buying ANY food I needed for the diet du jour) I don’t know how to eat normally. The entire family restricted at some point, and my mom was a serial restrictor. One 15-oz can of ravioli was split between the three of us for dinner. Dad would have a blob of iceberg lettuce and bottled dressing, and there might be bread on the table. If I didn’t like something (tomato soup, bean & bacon soup- both canned, BLT sandwiches, etc) I was welcome not to eat at all. It was neither parents’ concern. And there were no options for having something else. Eat what’s served, or don’t eat.

    I think that’s where ‘tasting’ comes in. My head doesn’t get too worked up over 1-3 bites of something that I’m not ‘allowed’ a full portion (whether the ED voice, or medical food restrictions for gout, diabetes, and kidney disease). Even if I really like the taste of something, I can’t have more than a couple of bites. Those are the ‘rules’.

    Things I’d like to have without analyzing the crap out of via nutritional information: a sandwich that I don’t know all of the ingredients, a side dish that has many components, a dessert that isn’t plain fruit or a couple of military biscuits, and several things that I haven’t had for many years. I know that to work through this, I’ll have to eat foods that scare me, and that means a full portion, not just tasting. And I’m not there yet. I see what is in the mirror, and immediately, I’m terrible for even considering putting X into my mouth.

  • Bleh Week (I Miss My Sweet Girl)

    Bleh Week (I Miss My Sweet Girl)

    Photo: Mine -22 May 2025 (minutes after I let my sweet girl go in peace)

    This week has been kind of weird, so I’m thankful for a day without triggers. I did have an appointment with a surgeon on Monday, but was able to chill out after that. I’ll have surgery in a month on multiple scalp cysts (again; this is the fourth time having more than one removed at a time). With dyautonomia, this time of year can be a minefield of chaos with temperatures going up. I don’t thermoregulate well, so higher temps usually mean I’m in for the duration (generally May-September). Too warm (over 65 degrees F) means I’m prone to passing out, so staying home is a safety thing. Now I’m arguing with an opinionated thermostat that keeps wanting to have the temp at 65F. I don’t need that chill, or the electric bill that will come with it. I can tolerate 66-67F indoors with residual cool from the air conditioner and no sunlight.

    The first anniversary of my dog’s death was on Friday. She never knew me working, so we never spent a day or night apart, for over 12 years. She was my reason for existing, and only nearby ‘family’. I miss her so much, but she let me know it was time to be allowed to go in peace, and she did. She was in my arms, and knew I was there (though a bit dopey from pre-procedure sedation). She knew I was talking to her, and that’s what mattered. The three dogs I’ve had since living on my own all died in my arms, as hard as it was. I couldn’t let them think I just left them with the vet and didn’t care. It’s painful, but that’s love– being there for the hard stuff, not just when it’s convenient. She was the closest I’ve ever been to a living thing. She knew my every move (and followed me everywhere). The enthusiastic greeting I’d get when I came in the door, whether after an hour or two because of appointments or tests, or five minutes after taking out the trash, was always the same. I was her world and she was mine. I miss that, and know that I’m not physically or financially able to get another dog, especially with my apartment being a nightmare mess that is taking forever to get sorted out. She really deserves her own post, but I’m not sure i want to share much of her yet.

    There were some SNAFUs with my tax payment (sent at the end of March), as well as coverage for my CPAP machine which left me unglued that day. It all got taken care of the next morning, but any unexpected chaos is never welcome. I sent an email to my ex-therapist that day, which I shouldn’t have done, though the interaction was benign. I just need to move on. She offered weekly phone calls, but I’ve heard the phone call plans before. I declined. I don’t want to set myself up for more missed calls, since she already put a caveat for why calls could be missed. So…. no thanks. More health issues for her per her, though a patient who let her know about this blog didn’t seem to know she’d been ill. She didn’t mention it when I sent her a message (she’d sent me a message one time many, many months ago that I’d sent a short reply in response). I hadn’t mentioned the blog. I guess some people get the well therapist, while I got the one with intermittent and chronic illnesses of all sorts that were the often reasons for many missed calls, over the nearly 4 years I’ve known her. I hope she’s OK, and wish her well. I’m just not needing someone who may or may not be there. I needed someone to help me get well and what I paid nearly $33K USD for, that was agreed on when i started. She said she wanted me as a friend. I wasn’t looking for that when I contacted her either. I’m not sure when that changed for her. She doesn’t call ‘friends’ when she says she will either, evidently. But we both left the door open, so if that ends up being the last contact, it was on decent terms.

    Food continues to be a problem. I’m aiming for bare minimums to keep my kidneys working, and hoping that some leg muscle goes away because of how bulky my thighs are. I’m already disgusted by what I see in the mirror; protein just taxes my kidneys and makes me look like an even bigger sow. But taking away the previous minimums has calmed my head down, which makes life less internally antagonistic. I’m focused on carbs and enough calories to keep doctors happy. I should still lose weight. Minimum carbs are 150 grams/day, and then I pad the other 400-500 calories with healthy fats and a little protein. Nothing is forced or mandated otherwise.

    I was notified that the male humanoid who raped/beat/sodomized me for 6 hours in 1987 was being considered for less supervision on parole. He hasn’t been out long this time, and had only been out on parole for 39 days when he attacked me. I told Texas that the next victim was on them. I’m done with spending time every 3 years (or less if he’s been out, screwed up, and went back to prison) telling them why someone who has offended ON parole every time he’s been ‘out’ since the 1970s shouldn’t be out.

    Today is fairly quiet, which is nice. I’ll likely watch something on Netflix or YouTube later (no TV accessible). Typical night. I don’t sleep well at night, so find ways to stay occupied. Moving some things around or collecting trash slowly is also on the agenda. I can’t get much done at one time, so it’s all in bits and pieces as I can tolerate it. At least at night, it’s cool enough to function more safely.

  • Really Struggling

    Really Struggling


    Photo: mine

    I’m really struggling to feel worth the effort of bothering with any of this stuff any longer. I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to be near food. I don’t care what happens to me. I won’t actively do myself in, but if I got sick enough to become terminal, so be it. I’m tired of being strong. I’m tired of fighting. I’ve been fighting to survive, either physically, mentally, or both, for as long as I can remember. I feel dead inside.

    I’m tired of trying to make sense out of a therapist basically telling me to go ahead and die when she didn’t have the time (after saying she would) to discuss ideas to get the 2 gallon/2 day colonoscopy prep in me. I struggle with 2 liters over a day, with half of that by tube. It felt like she just wanted to be rid of me. She was doing a good job with that already, with the breadcrumbing… but to refuse to talk to me about a procedure that could remove a large polyp and look for more that they suspected ?? To me that just says my life is worthless to the supposed self-worth whisperer. More like the grim reaper’s emcee. A 1.5 cm polyp has better odds of becoming colon cancer than not- and I’m not worth a damn phone call. Others got personal visits in other countries (so I was told), but for me, the phone must have weighed 500 pounds. Couldn’t physically bring herself to do it, so that told me a lot about what she’d been saying since the beginning. A bunch of fake terms of endearment, a ‘special’ name she wanted to call me (variation on my actual name), and the compliments about my sense of humor and ‘wit’, and I believe nothing. My only plan now is never to speak to her again.

    I just don’t see the point in fighting with my body and mind any longer. If I get better, fine. If not, whatever. There isn’t a meal that goes by that I’m not blasted by my ED brain for how fat I am, and how this body doesn’t deserve to eat. I have to ‘earn the right’ to eat by being small enough not to look like a total pig. I’m sick of the roller coaster, and I can’t afford help now… and why would i want to interact with any human after the past 3 1/2 years? It’ll be 4 years ago this coming June that I became a patient of the ex-therapist. One of my worst decisions ever. Every time she didn’t call when she said she would, it reinforced how others were worth more. Sure, stuff comes up periodically- but >%50 of the calls she said she’d make never happened. With the last call she refused to make, my value as a human being was shredded.

    I’m almost wishing that something takes me out – colon polyp turns to cancer, OR the eating disorder finally eats my kidneys once and for all. Just no more “help” from humans. And for all who are struggling to survive something and WANT to survive, I’m sorry, and I wish you the best.

  • The Summer Of 1981- The Starvation Pact & Understanding Anorexia’s Mindset

    The Summer Of 1981- The Starvation Pact & Understanding Anorexia’s Mindset

    Photo: mine

    I was so excited to be working at a summer camp associated with the church I grew up in for the second summer in a row. I’d been a camper there for 7 summers for week long sessions, and the idea of 3 whole months, working in the nature center was the best way I could spend a summer. It was the summer before starting at the University of Illinois- Urbana-Champaign campus… and I was nervous. I was looking forward to going, but still felt insecure, and went to camp armed with a diet arsenal of a scale, cellulose tablets to fill me up, over the counter diet pills, and a calorie book. I wanted to look better. I’d been criticized about my weight since I was a young child by my mother, so no matter what I weighed, it never seemed good enough. She wanted a greyhound to somehow come from a cocker spaniel. And I wanted her approval for something.

    What I hadn’t planned on was a cabin counselor in the village I was assigned to, who gave me many tips after she noticed what I was doing. (Villages were about 4-6 cabins around a main shower/bathroom building with staff rooms upstairs). She was likely under 90 pounds that summer, and a bulimic anorexic. We became inseparable on days off.
    I lost 17 pounds the first week, and was ‘hooked’ to watching the numbers go down. Other staff were concerned, but nothing was reaching my adolescent ‘logical’ brain, and I just kept plowing through. I was down 40 pounds in 5 weeks, and another 5 by the end of the summer camping season. I’d been ‘seen’ doing what I was doing, but I’m not sure that anyone realized how much my buddy at camp was keeping me motivated to keep restricting more. But I arrived ‘primed’. She and I were more supportive of each other’s lousy disorders, but at the same time, we were friends, and kept in touch for years after camp. The folks at the camp did try to get me to stop what I was doing, but nothing got through my thick head.

    For those fortunate people who have no idea what an eating disorder feels like, I’ll try to explain it. First, the scale dictates a lot. If there’s a gain in weight, no matter what the weight is, more restriction is ‘required’ by the eating disorder ‘voice’. It’s not an audible voice, but more like loud thoughts, and they are not to be disobeyed. If they are, then more exercise or less food for a longer period of time is mandated. The next thing is watching calories going down in the food logs (there are almost always food logs). It’s a ‘high’ to see ‘disappearing’ or ‘shrinking’ however it happens. If the ‘numbers’ aren’t OK in the food log, then there’s more tendency to compensate, by more exercise, laxatives (my preference back then), diuretics (altered a prescription for those to get many more refills and pills per refill), vomiting (not my thing), or for some diabetics, they can very dangerously manipulate their insulin (that’s a line I won’t cross). It’s having a terrorist in your head that will do more damage if it’s not pleased with ‘progress’ and compliance.

    Gradually, more foods are eliminated and categorized as ‘bad’. ‘Bad foods’ are to be avoided at all costs, or the fear is that so much weight will come back that it’s paralyzing to be urged to eat ‘bad’ foods. It can be physically painful. When others, however well-meaning, try and force ‘bad’ food, it causes the ED to dig in even more. There is no weight low enough, no calories few enough, etc. It’s a never-ending cycle of eating less, not making weight goals, and being totally obsessed with all things about food. At the same time, there is hunger for a while, but after enough time under-eating/starving, hunger stops. Initially, I didn’t see why it was such a big deal. To be made to eat more than is deemed ‘safe’ is a legitimate panic trigger. My mind would go blank, and it seemed like I was being tormented by those who wanted me to eat more instead of realizing that it was the disorder reacting. And it’s exhausting.

    As far as ‘control’, it’s lost fairly quickly. The drive to keep going is all-encompassing, and outside ‘voices’ do little but fan the flames of the ED. Control is also messed up when the body rebels and triggers ‘binges’ to recoup some lost energy, which can lead to full-on bulimia, or eating less for the next several days, only to set up another binge. A lot of info is coming out now about how binge eaters are likely to be doing a fair amount of restricting between binges- and are not that unlike other restrictive eating disorders. Someone can be overweight and still restricting. Metabolism slows during restriction, so when the body is fed, by whatever means (binge, more balanced eating), the calories are stored as fat for the next ‘famine’.

    As time goes on, and more attempts at treatment are attempted, there is a changing awareness of how messed up things are, but still no power to change it without external, safe therapy. Most of us know how we look to other people, and that we’re not normal. And most of us want to be normal- we just can’t get there overnight. We know our food rules and behaviors aren’t healthy. We know our thinking- at least about food and weight is messed up, but many are hard working and high achievers in any other area.

    The mental part is largely due to starvation. The Ancel Keys “Minnesota Starvation Study” is a blueprint for turning a mind into an eating disorder maze of chaos. Thinking about food constantly, shopping for food, making food for others, avoiding eating food, for some- planning binges, sleeplessness, headaches, lousy concentration, inability to retain info from reading materials, and many other mental and physical symptoms are because of starvation. Food reverses this- I’ve been there, and yet I can’t just snap out of this relapse. It’s wanting SO badly to be back in a more ‘stable’ disorder- when my head still categorizes food, but I’m not in the ‘retribution’ part of the ED when I do/did eat.

    My parents were ‘OK’ with the rapid and extreme weight loss. They didn’t know at the time how messed up I was, or that it’d become a lifelong issue. My weight has fluctuated a lot from visible ribs to multiple chins but my thoughts about food stayed largely unchanged. My highest weights were from drinking calories in soda and juice after one outpatient program that forbade non-caloric liquids (like a death sentence when diet soda was its own food group). But my folks had no clue until the following February when I was sent to the psych hospital, and they were baffled about what the big deal was, even seeing me for a few weeks between camp and the U of I, and sending me suspenders to hold my jeans up. I was still ‘preemptively’ purging with laxatives, and while I tired to eat ‘enough’ if I had to eat around them or others, my head was beating me up a lot.

    That summer of 1981 changed my life for decades. It’s been 45 years, and I’m fighting the same ED voice. Each relapse strengthens the internal task master. If you have a child, or other friend or loved one who is showing signs of eating disorders, get them help sooner rather than later, or they will be eaten by the disorder.

  • I’m So Tired Of All Of This; It’s Hard To Eat In This Body

    I’m So Tired Of All Of This; It’s Hard To Eat In This Body

    Image- general online search

    I don’t know how to do this. There is no interest in food- and not just my eating disorder ‘head’. Physically, nothing sounds good. I have stuff here that I “should” like, but there’s no interest in eating it. I’ve been forcing food that seems “normal” but not anything that stirs up too much fear. I’ve given up on trying to get more protein in. If I happen to want it, OK (still have to limit quantity because of kidneys and gout), but I’m not putting extra effort into seeking it out. I just want to be ‘normal’, whatever that is, and when I look in the mirror, I just see a disgusting body that is not deserving of food. I wouldn’t see someone else, my size or larger, and deny them food- but it’s something that has been in my head for over 55 years. I don’t deserve what others do, even if it’s just food to stay alive.

    I’ve been trying to do ‘low pressure’ foods- like cereal and milk for breakfast, a baked potato for lunch, and some broccoli, rice, and peanuts for dinner. That doesn’t get enough calories or protein in for the day- and I’m sick of forcing the ‘numbers’ to come out right. I don’t want to think about it… and yet it’s all I think about. There is always something in my head telling me not to eat ‘enough’, though I’ve never gotten any consistency with the calorie amount set up as my goal- I haven’t gotten close to that.

    With protein, it seems that a break now and then isn’t such a bad idea if it can reduce the workload of my kidneys. I know a good chunk of the weight I gained when I tried to eat more is because of muscle gain. My legs used to be atrophied enough that the tendon on the side of my leg, near my knee, was visible- and the reason I ended up with a wheelchair for longer distance walking. Now, my thighs are like bricks with some fat over them. My right bicep had basically disintegrated, but now is much larger. I know muscle is good, but I don’t want it if it means more weight, and muscle weighs more than fat.

    I’m still trying, but I’m tired of it. I haven’t quit eating, but I’m not willing to spend so much time trying for something that feels uncomfortably excessive, no matter what the numbers say. I just want to pick at the things I do like and if it works out, fine. If it doesn’t, then so be it. Getting the “food rules” from the ex-therapist out of my head is taking a while, but going better. I’m more interested in being comfortable, and not forcing stuff I have no interest in consuming. I still aim for enough carbs to avoid acute renal failure again, but that’s the most I’m doing right now.

    The worst thing I’ve ever done was go on the extreme restriction ‘diet’ in the summer of 1981… the second was seeking help from someone who ended up causing more damage. Undoing the damage, and also trying to ‘rewire’ my brain by doing the opposite of what my eating disorder head says is exhausting, and doesn’t move very quickly. To get ‘positive’ stuff into my head, I’m using a radio station 24/7 that has upbeat songs (happens to be contemporary Christian music with a lot of mental health ‘boosting’ songs). I do wake up with positive messages from the songs going through my head, so that is good. The volume is low enough not to bother my sleep, but loud enough that if I don’t have anything else on (movies, videos), I can hear the songs playing softly.

    I’m so tired, but I haven’t quit.

  • When Therapists Cause Way More Harm Than They Help

    When Therapists Cause Way More Harm Than They Help

    Image: Adobe Royalty-free stock images

    It’s hard to even comprehend how someone who is supposed to be a therapist can treat people like street garbage when they know their history of previous trauma. It’s having someone find out what will hurt the most, and then do that. In the 20 years I worked as a nurse, it never occurred to me to emotionally batter someone, or ignore why they were in the facility- to get help- and I took care of some pretty disturbed patients at times. But they were MY patients, and I was responsible for their care. It’s some serial killer mentality to make sport of hurting someone knowing that they’ve already been hurt. It’s manipulative emotional terrorism when it took so little to throw me away. There is no excuse. IF there really was something going on to limit the professional role, then the responsible thing to do is to let patients know that they are no longer able to be a therapist (and quit asking for money for bullshit ‘not-the-patient’s-problem’ personal stuff, especially knowing that I was on a fixed income).

    I was stupid not to read the ‘warnings’ before signing on with the person who hurt me way more than other things in my life that may sound worse. Therapists have very personal information to use when making the CHOICES to cause more pain. I’d repeatedly asked that I not be told a call would come in X hours/days to avoid the “she didn’t call… again” scenario, and she refused. I think she figured that a little contact (at her convenience) was better than no contact, and that simply isn’t true. She told me herself that I had abandonment and attachment trauma to work through, and then acted like I was a hobby to deal with after helping patients who obviously were more deserving of her time- though she had no problem taking my money for 3 years. So, she created more attachment issues, and abandoned me like a rotting animal carcass.

    That pedestal she has herself on must come with a lifetime supply of altitude sickness oxygen canisters. She made it very clear with the colonoscopy prep “no call” that I wasn’t worth helping to have the best outcome possible with the colon polyp/failed Cologuard test/abnormal MRI showing that there was cause to get the polyp out. Four people from the GI clinic (2 MDs, 2 RNs) emphasized the importance of getting the polyp out (but wouldn’t work with me on a volume I could tolerate). The physical feeling in my chest when she texted me “I’ll check my schedule” about discussing possible ways to make the prep easier was one of absolute worthlessness, and felt like my chest dropped about a foot. I wasn’t worth a phone call even if it could keep me alive. My life was nothing more to her than used toilet paper, after so many fake terms of endearment. After that, why would I get the polyp out? Why would I believe that I’m worth anything? Why would I ever want to speak to her after that, when I needed to talk to her the day she told me to message her, and she’d call me? Why did I waste so much time with someone who had been gradually and more frequently making it clear that I wasn’t worth her time? Why would I think that I’m worth going through hell again to remove the polyp? Why would I want to prolong my life? I’m obviously an idiot to think I’m anything but forgettable rubbish. I won’t actively end my life, but I won’t actively prolong it now, either. That ‘no call’ did a lot of damage.

    I wish I’d never contacted her. I wish I’d read the book and court ruling before trying to find her. I wish I wasn’t hoping for something that she obviously didn’t think was worth her time… getting well. I wish I hadn’t believed that she gave a damn about any of her “patients”. She told me more than once that she did 10 phone sessions a day… I wonder how many of them are feeling the way I do. I wonder how many more of her former patients (like many in the 20/20 episodes) are now dead. I wonder why she continues to do things that result in a corpse collection as part of her curriculum vitae. But I don’t wonder about her.

    I do hope the ‘captive’ patients that live with her can get away from her before their minds are set up to implode when she tires of them. I hope those who aren’t living with her get a clue before she does more damage to them (I know I’m not unique in how things ended with her, as the book would have warned me about). I hope she doesn’t drain their finances. I hope they don’t stay as long as I did. It wasn’t my job to tell her how to be a therapist, but now, I feel like I have an obligation to warn people to trust their gut if something seems off. To LEAVE abusiveness. To escape the constant chaos of unpredictability. To block all contact, in order to survive. I did block her in multiple places, and I still feel like I’m the ‘bad’ one in this situation. That I am so insignificant as a human that I deserved to be kicked to the curb by absolute indifference.

    If she was thinking I’d come up with more money to ‘MAKE me worthwhile’, she was dead wrong. There was nothing left to ‘come up’ with. She once messaged me to ‘sell everything’ (I have screenshots of many, many messages) when she asked me to send $1000 USD for some website that never materialized (always another deadline, and some looney claims about ‘investors’). I didn’t send anything, and that’s when gradual breadcrumbing became ignoring. She didn’t see messages for days to a week, but wanted control over food again… how in the hell was that supposed to work? A month went between calls more than once. If she wanted me to still believe in her, leaving me isolated was the perfect way for me to wake up and realize how much she was hurting me. I guess I can be thankful that her hurting me ‘enough’ finally woke me up to how fucked up things were.

    I’m glad I had the flawed mom I had- she did the best she could with how broken she was. I’m thankful for my biological mom, who is so much fun to talk to, and with whom I can just be goofy me without judgement. I’m thankful for previous good therapists I had, who had ethics and standards that kept things professional and fair. Even when there might be something difficult, they were honest with me, and I respect that a lot. I don’t respect creativity with the truth (bad enough that it’s a daily reminder in the US with who is ‘running; things). I don’t respect not following through with scheduled contact, or scripted empathy with no substance. I don’t respect manipulating already hurt people. I don’t respect self-promotion. I don’t respect hollow connections based on nothing.

    But I’m deeply grateful that I’m not her.



    Any reposts are originally from Atypically Recovering.

  • Figuring Out Food Intake With Volume Issues

    Figuring Out Food Intake With Volume Issues

    Photo: Adobe Stock

    I’m working on a way to get enough protein in, as well as more fruits and veggies. When I eat protein (generally dairy of some kind), it has to be OK for my kidneys and gout. That means meat, poultry, and fish/seafood are very limited. Spirulina, a type of algae (common in green and blue smoothies, and blue/green tinted foods), is among the worst for gout, with purine levels way too high to mess with. I’m not supposed to have more than 400mg of purines/day, and even that can be a problem since I can’t take enough gout meds because of my kidneys. So, I’m working on a plan to do about 1/3 of my protein intake with whey protein isolate powder via the nasogastric (NG) tube. I have to get about 1/2 of my fluids in by tube, so I figured that I’d make it worth it even more by tossing in the protein. I can adjust the amount of Isopure Clear (protein powder brand I like) based on what else I want each day… sometimes, produce and a bit of rice are all I want.

    Reducing the pressure of protein intake, enables me to eat more produce, which I like and is generally safe. That could change if potassium becomes an issue, but for now, it’s open season on fruits and veggies. The ones I prefer don’t bother my stomach, and when I roast a 9 x 13 inch pan of whatever sounds good (this week it’s zucchini, mushrooms, and Vidalia onions), I have enough for 2-3 days, and can mix them with rice or pasta (still freaked out by those, but rice has gotten easier) or baby potatoes. A sourdough bread roll is also nice sometimes since it’s an individual serving by default, and those are less scary. Toss on a condiment like teriyaki sauce, or some smoked salt and herbs, and it’s a pretty good meal.

    I do have meat/poultry/seafood now and then, but I have to be sure that I measure it out, both for purines and protein. Eighty to 90 grams isn’t a lot, but I am an omnivore and do like fish and chicken (especially smoked), so I just appreciate having them at all. Most of the time, I’m a lacto-ovo vegetarian because of gout. I don’t have the stomach capacity for the fluids I need (if I drink them) AND enough plant based protein, assisted by dairy, so I generally end up deficient in something and feeling like a beached whale with bloating. It’s too miserable to even bother with at this point, but the protein powder via tube has been helpful. Whatever works and doesn’t hurt seems to be a decent way to get enough in.

    Eventually, I’m going to have to eat and drink without the tube, but while I’m getting through this rough part of figuring out this recovery stuff with YouTube, books, and other media, this seems to be a solution that reduces stress, and increases the variety of fruit and veggies I can get in. I forget which video I was watching, but it suggested aiming for 15-20 different types of fruits and veggies per week. I’m starting out with 10, and will see how that goes, and then increase the variety that fits with my budget. Produce is very expensive in the US (like $9 USD for a pint of organic blueberries vs $5 for a 300 gram bag of frozen ones; my days of ‘luxury’ organics are over), but I do like some of the cheaper options like apples (about $1 each), pears, clementines, bananas, mushrooms, zucchini, spaghetti squash, and potatoes. The others will be seasonal items, which should help avoid flavor fatigue.

    I’ve never been much of a bread eater, but found a very good (and flexible) subscription company for sourdough rolls (they also have bread, but I’d waste too much of it), and different types of croissants. I’ve never really liked croissants because the grocery store ones are full of junk that isn’t needed, to extend shelf life to near immortality, and they taste a bit ’embalmed’. Wildgrain products don’t have unnecessary stuff in them, and bake up in 25 minutes or less from the freezer, so always fresh. The individual servings are also helpful with bread as well. There is a decent amount of protein in the ham and cheese fold-overs, and even the rolls add a little. I’m trying to add more stuff that ‘normal people’ eat.

    I don’t like that I have to deal with medical food restrictions while working on not restricting, but all I can do is make the best of it. I don’t like the NG tube, but kidney function has already been stressed twice in the last 5 years when I went into acute renal failure from not enough carbs (once during the time I was supposedly being ‘monitored’ by the ex-therapist). Fortunately, I was able to get it turned around. The dehydration and increased workload on the kidneys from so much protein and ketosis are bad news with known kidney disease, but those with normal kidney function can still be impacted.
    https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC10121483/

  • Growing Up With A Therapy Stigma… and Then I Was Shipped to The Psych Joint

    Growing Up With A Therapy Stigma… and Then I Was Shipped to The Psych Joint

    Photo- online general search.

    When I was shipped off to the nut house at 18, my mom was horrified. She thought for sure they’d turn me into some kind of cult member. I’m glad I was able to see the value in therapy when I left home- and had NO ‘judgey’ stuff yammered at me about needing help. They told nobody in the family where I was, except for one uncle who was sent on a recon mission to see if they had me chained to the wall in the dungeon. The rest of them thought I was either still in school, or ??? He brought my flute and a package of Oreos (he did not get the memo that I was there for anorexia and depression from malnutrition)… my folks were BANNED from contacting me or seeing me for over a month.

    Growing up, the idea of therapy had come up a couple of times. The first was when I was in Junior High school (grades 7 and 8) after I’d asked our pastor if people who committed suicide got into Heaven. He responsibly told my parents, who were livid. THEIR kid wasn’t going to be talking to people about things like that, and in no uncertain terms was their kid going to a therapist. I had my direct orders. I was miserable and later, as an adult, I realized that the emotional toll was related to a lot of trauma that went untreated for decades.

    In high school, I was on a ‘fast track’ to graduate a year early. I was already at least 6-12 months younger than my classmates because of my birthday being late in the year. In my junior year, I had 8 classes and no lunch period for the time it took to get through drivers’ education. That meant, after no breakfast, I had no fuel to function for 8 hours at school, and it didn’t take long before the fatigue and hunger were taking a toll. One of the teachers who monitored the hall I walked down daily noticed I wasn’t doing well. She asked me to answer some questions one day for what I now know was the Beck Depression Inventory, and I did not score well. She went to my guidance counselor (longtime family friend), who went to my dad (school principal) about having me cut out one class so I had a break during the day. That night, dad was fuming. He loved me, but didn’t understand why people can’t just buck up and move along. He reamed me for telling that teacher that I wasn’t doing well. Keep in mind that I spent most of my time after my folks got home in my room, so they had no clue how I was doing. I was told, verbatim, “If anyone asks you how you are, I don’t care if your arm is hanging on by a thread. You are FINE.” Then I got the “You don’t need therapy, do you?” in the same tone someone would ask if someone had herpes. Nope. Not me. I’m FINE. (later, as a detox RN, FINE meant ‘f-ed up, insecure, neurotic, and emotionally unwell, which was more accurate). About 9 1/2 years ago, I tracked down that teacher, and called to thank her for trying to get me help- and I was allowed to drop a class, so she did help, even if there was no therapy involved.

    Then, off to college a year later after graduating a semester early. I left high school on Friday, and the following Tuesday, I was in community college classes (two- just to keep me busy between work hours at a gift shop). I got through those classes (history- hated it, and philosophy, which was so boring), and then off to summer camp to work for the summer. That’s when the hardcore anorexia started, after years of moderate restriction- whether by my mom, or my own hopes of getting her approval by dieting on my own. I didn’t want to be huge for the University of Illinois. I wasn’t really huge- but I wasn’t what the weight charts of the times said I should weigh. By the time I got to the university, I was a mess. Before classes even started, I was ‘caught’ going to get some water from the hall water fountain, and had on my stadium coat and six pairs of socks because I was so cold. They could feel the cold through the socks. This was in late August in central Illinois where the humidity all but causes a greenhouse effect on a good day. My dorm mates got the resident advisor, who got the resident director of that dorm, and they called an ambulance to haul me off to the university health center. I had to stay overnight and talk to a psychiatrist in the morning before I could go back to the dorm.

    It took the psychiatrist about 10 minutes to diagnose me with anorexia nervosa based on the criteria at the time (Feighner criteria). I’d lost %25 of my body weight, and was still heavily restricting. I was at a normal weight, and wanted to lose another 40-50 pounds, which would have been severely underweight by any criteria. In order to stay at the university, I had to start therapy at the counseling center. I wasn’t opposed, but I had no way to express what was going on, and I’m not sure the therapist/she ever heard me say anything but “I don’t know” during that entire semester. But I showed up so I could stay in school, and not have to face the music of being some mental defect back home. The next semester, shortly after returning from the winter break of about a month, she finally heard something different… “I don’t want to wake up anymore.” And I had a very lethal plan set up that would have been easy to do in a room with no roommate. She called the university fire department to take me to the student health center where I was kept until family friends could pick me up and take me to a psych hospital near Chicago. I couldn’t face my parents because of the shame I was bringing to the family, and mostly their fear of how church friends would react, so they told no one. There was a blizzard that weekend in February, so I was in limbo until the roads were passable, which took about 3 days.

    I hadn’t planned on my folks being at the hospital to sign me in since I was on dad’s insurance. I was horrified. Fortunately, I was moved quickly to the locked adult unit (only adult unit aside from the substance abuse floor), and my folks were told they could have no contact with me for a month. No phone. No visits. My assigned psychiatrist knew something was wonky if I had been too afraid to have my folks pick me up at school. I felt so defective for being there, but also discovered that psych facilities are probably the most honest places on the planet. There are no useful defense mechanisms- they’d seen/heard them all. It was all about unloading the secrets and shame, and healing. Granted, back in the early 80s, things were still pretty basic, but cognitive therapy was being introduced via the new book (back then) “Feeling Good”, which simplified it for non-professionals. And if someone was acting up, where were they going to be sent? They were already in the funny farm.

    During that first admission (3 months), I wasn’t a model patient when it came to food and supplements. I was also a dissociative mess, and that part of my therapy wouldn’t be truly addressed for years, until I was no longer living with my folks in my hometown. I ended up in restraints in the “Quiet Room” (terrible name for that room depending on who was in there- I was quiet, and that was part of the problem). I wasn’t batshit nuts, but restraints were thought to be a way to keep people safe. They hadn’t planned on me being able to sort of fold my thumb in enough to get out of the wrist restraints, so when they looked in the little window in the door, it looked like I’d disappeared. I’d turn around with my legs crossed at the other end of the bed, and lean against the wall, arms free.
    They’d adjust the straps if I was still deemed unstable, or let out if I would commit not to do anything that made them feel I was still too goofy to be let loose in my room again.

    I got out after 3 months, and planned to work at the summer camp again for 1/2 of the summer once my boss from the nature center came to visit me in the nuthouse, and found that I wasn’t any different than my usual self, and I think he probably was glad I’d gotten help, after the camp was very concerned the previous summer when I dumped 40 pounds in 5 weeks. It was a good 1/2 summer season, though I was a cabin counselor, so had a much more hectic schedule. Then the plan was to go back to the university once my psychiatrist signed off, which he did without hesitation, making sure I had my prescription antidepressants and sleeping pills.

    I had to be dropped off at the dorm about 2 weeks early because my mom was undergoing radiation for post-mastectomy breast cancer. It was weird being in the dorm before everyone else got there (12 story building) with only a couple of people on each floor that usually held at least 100 girls. I made acquaintances with the bars on campus, even though I was under age by more than 2 years. I was getting drunk nearly every night. I know now that the pressure to “look normal” after being sent away the previous semester was too much. I was on a different floor, so not a lot of people knew about the psych hospital. Eventually, I broke.

    The other students were there, and classes had started. One evening, I had been to the bar, but wasn’t sloshed because I had homework. I remember taking the 10 sleeping pills one at a time, like a robot. I wasn’t thinking about dying, I just wanted to sleep (escape) from what was going on in my head. At some point, I also took 50 imipramine 50mg tablets (I don’t remember taking those), and went to sleep. Months later, I wrote to ask my roommate what had happened that next morning, because I didn’t remember anything until a nurse was going towards my crotch with a syringe to remove the catheter I didn’t know was there. My roommate said that she tried to wake me up that morning, but I mumbled something about needing sleep. When she got back from classes later that afternoon, I was still in the same position, not responding to anything, and she got help. Again with the ambulance, but this time I was transferred to the trauma center where my stomach was pumped and I was sent to ICU. My Glasgow Coma Scale score was 3. Next step down is dead. I didn’t wake up fully for 3 days. I have a couple of memory flashes of someone asking me if I overdosed while pulling the oxygen mask away from my face. I said ‘no’, which did nothing for my credibility. But I honestly never remembered wanting to die. I wanted to be at university- it wasn’t home, so that made it a better place to be with how messed up my head was.

    SO, back to the hospital near Chicago, which I was informed of when my parents SHOWED UP that Saturday. I was so angry. My therapist was called to the hospital to explain that I wasn’t safe enough for the university to want to be responsible for me. There wasn’t another chance. I went back to the psych hospital for another 4 months, with another 2 weeks in medical facilities altogether for 1982. My folks were still not OK with psychiatry, but also knew that I wasn’t OK to be at home at that point, especially with mom still doing radiation, so they took me straight back to the hospital with me seated between them in the front seat. They’d already packed up my dorm room before getting to the hospital.

    I was given every tricyclic antidepressant but one and one MAOI, along with anxiety meds, but they didn’t do much. I’ve never been ‘diagnosably’ depressed unless I was heavily restricting food. Meds weren’t going to help. I needed to eat. I was doing better, but still not well by a long shot. I left with supplements since lab work showed poor protein intake, which has been an ongoing battle, unless I allowed myself to get BBQ when I lived in Texas.

    After being discharged in early January 1983, I was still going to downtown Chicago for twice weekly appointments with my psychiatrist for a couple of months, then down to weekly. Eventually, he had a second office in a closer suburb (that avoided all Chicago traffic). He didn’t want me to go home at all, but to a halfway house in Chicago in a sketchy area of town, and I refused. He figured out parts of an ongoing puzzle that wasn’t made clear for another 7 years, but he got me through nursing school, which was stressful. I’m not proud of having been in a psych hospital, but those admissions did keep me alive, and removed me from my home, which allowed me to speak for the first time in my life. I didn’t have to pretend I was OK- being a patient already cleared up that I wasn’t OK. They were good to me there, even when I was a jerk with the food situation. I was the youngest on the adult floor the entire time I was there. That facility has since been shut down, but while I was there, I was treated fairly, and became fond of several of the staff members.

    There’s no shame in getting help… just in not trying. And for those who also deal with any kind of religious bias against therapy, it’s not a boogie man situation. There are all kinds of therapists and levels of care. Your faith can’t be taken from you- only relinquished. If you need help, I think God would rather have any of us do that than show up to His place early.
    <3

  • That Time When I Wondered Why I’m Still Alive

    That Time When I Wondered Why I’m Still Alive

    Image: general online search; not my image.

    Today is one of “those days” when everything seems to trigger a round of crying. I’m struggling physically with food and fluid intake, which makes everything else worse. I’m super protective of any sleep I get. Most people with eating disorders have some sort of trauma in their lives, and I’m no different. I think this was triggered by such a deep sense of loss about many things in my life, set off by seeing the obituary for one of the family friends who’d known me since I was first adopted as a newborn. The rest seems to be a cascade of things that I never would have imagined to be part of my life when I was thinking about how i saw my life as an adult at a much younger age.

    I’m not up for going into a lot of detail now, but I’ve been through various types of abuse. I grieve the loss of so many people. At age 14, the murders of my skating coach’s six kids rocked me to the core. In Austin, Texas, I was raped, beaten, and sodomized for 6 hours, resulting in police shooting the offender in my bedroom after I finally managed to escape when he passed out. He didn’t die, so off to trial. I’ve been through medical abuse and errors. I had acute promyelocytic leukemia that nearly killed me shortly after the first abnormal lab work. I’m disabled to the point of only being able to safely leave home for MD appointments and to pick up prescriptions that can’t be delivered. And few people notice if I’m not around.

    It hasn’t been a year yet since my dog needed to be allowed to go in peace, in my arms at the emergency vet clinic. That is something that still haunts me. It was the right thing to do, and she let me know it was time. She only knew me not working, and we never spent a night apart in 12 1/2 years. She knew when I wasn’t OK, and many times, she’d get on the bed and lie down between me and the edge of the bed, so I couldn’t get up unless she moved. I can’t express how much the loss of that sweet dog has hurt. She was only 3 1/2 when my dad died, so since then, she was my only “in town” family. But I’m also so thankful that I had her as long as I did. She truly was special, even though all of my dogs before her were loved very much as well.

    When I was growing up, and even when I moved away from home after nursing board results were back after the usual 3 month wait after taking boards when I was 22, I always imagined having a husband and kids, and living a fairly ‘normal’ life. My eating disorder was relatively stable when I first moved (that changed quickly). But, it was the rape that really changed things for me. To avoid any pressure to date, I often chose night and/or weekend shifts so I wasn’t available to meet anyone. I’ve never liked bars or clubs, so that was out, and even church was pushed aside because of work hours. I never wanted to be physically close to another man again, and I never was. I dated in high school and nursing school, and those 2 guys were very kind and always treated me well. I knew good guys were out there- but I was afraid of another sociopath being able to find me (I had been targeted specifically for looking like the rapist’s ex-wife). He had planned to dismember me alive before that day/weekend was over, holding a knife under my right breast, asking what i thought I’d look like without it. I never was afraid of “all” men after that, I just didn’t want anything to do with feeling trapped.

    I think about the things that I’ve never known- what it’s like to be a sister, an aunt, a mom, a wife, or to feel what it’s like to be loved properly. I know my folks loved me, and they did their best- and yet they had their own traumas from their childhoods. But I felt like a prop a lot of the time. I had to be worried about ‘family image’ from a very young age, not that I was a ‘mischievous’ kid. It was just made very clear to me not to tell anyone how I felt unless it was all sunshine and daisies. Even when I was suicidal in junior high and high school, I was in big trouble when I answered a depression screening honestly that a teacher gave me in the hall at school after noticing that I was struggling. Dad was the principal at that school, and my guidance counselor (another family friend) approached dad with the teacher’s concerns after she told him about the depression screening. I needed to move away from home so I could just be me. And to get help if I needed it, and I did.

    I believe that there must be some purpose for me still being around, even when my ability to work as a nurse was cut short nearly 22 years ago. It feels like all I’ve ever done is try to survive, and my body is struggling with the stress of all of that. The last year, with therapy being irreparably destroyed, has been the hardest because it was so personal. I doubt Ex-therapist would agree with that, but she doesn’t get to dictate how it feels on my end. The rape wasn’t personal- I was targeted, but anyone who looked like his ex-wife would have been- and I’m kind of a ‘generic’ looking person, at least back then. Both changed something in me forever. I’ve survived a lot, and it’s exhausting. I have no interest in dying, but I need to find something to help when the grief and reminders get really hard. I’m having a lot of trouble with nausea and feeling full with not a lot of food, or having to tube fluids because I can’t tolerate the volume of fluids and food. The amount may be the same, but how quickly they go in is different.

    It’s hard not to know what is going on with the large colon polyp, or what impact that will ultimately have on my lifespan. And, even if I knew, I doubt it would change what i would do. My kidneys couldn’t handle chemo, and daily radiation for X number of weeks would be way too physically demanding. The GI docs won’t consider a prep that I could handle volume-wise, so that makes it impossible to remove the polyp. Not being allowed to speak with my ex-therapist (as she said she would) about possible ways to make the huge prep (2 days, 2 gallons) easier was the emotional equivalent of being told that I’m disposable. I’d already flunked the Cologuard, the colonoscopy when the polyp was found, and colon abnormalities were seen on an MRI of my pelvis (also had an endocervical biopsy last summer).

    I go through days like this periodically, and since i don’t really have anyone to talk to, I write.

  • Online Eating Disorder Recovery Help

    Online Eating Disorder Recovery Help

    Image- general online search

    I started looking into online eating disorder support options a couple of years ago when it seemed that my therapist was only a part time social contact person, and then only when it was convenient for her. I didn’t expect constant contact, but wasn’t even getting phone calls when she said she’d call, so I knew I needed to find other options. YouTube has been very helpful with eating disorder recovery information (professional and for patients), ED coaches, and people who have recovered largely on their own with the intuitive eating philosophy.

    The general idea is to get to a place of eating what one wants, when they want it- and not to restrict anything. Ever. I have some medical food restrictions, but I’m working on the “no rules” eating goals as much as I can, and it is hard. Back in the 80s, I did something similar with Geneen Roth’s books. The idea there was to avoid the ‘good’ and ‘bad’ food categories, and just see food as fuel. That is still part of intuitive eating. Back then, I got things I wanted to eat, and kept my pantry stocked. That took away the ‘forbidden’ food idea that just leads to craving those items more, and setting up bingeing because of restricting. If the foods are always available, the idea was that I could have them when I wanted, and took away the obsession with something I wasn’t “supposed to” have. It was a good thing for me, and I focused on things I really wanted, and good quality versions of them. I started to enjoy those things in small quantities because I could have more, but mostly, a few bites was all I wanted. I was never a regular binger, so that part wasn’t really relevant, but with restricting so many categories of foods, the idea of ‘no bad foods’ helped make them less terrifying.

    With YouTube, I have favorite ‘recovery journey’ channels (Elzani, Elzani Singleton, Megsy Recovery). Elzani’s journey could be triggering because of her severe emaciation in the beginning, but she had the motivation to get well that was helpful for me and still is. I wanted to try new foods because of her channel, and love how supportive her family is. Megsy Recovery is also good, and focuses on daily challenges with specific foods and topics. They are both pro-recovery, and have been incredibly helpful. Often, I’ll eat while watching one of their videos, both for distraction and information.

    Tabitha Farrar is a recovery coach, and a recovered anorexic. She is direct, and has a lot of videos that explain how the body does all it can to survive, and why there is a lot of damage to repair physically as well as mentally. She understands and promotes the idea that body size is irrelevant to the type and severity of the eating disorder. The rules for underweight ED sufferers are no different for those in larger bodies. I’m still coming to terms with that, as I have trouble internalizing the idea that what I see in the mirror ‘deserves’ food, but I’m starting to see how food is simply fuel but can also be enjoyed just for the sake of liking something. Tabitha has written several books. “Rehabilitate, Rewire, Recover” is her main book (2nd edition now), but she has smaller books on weight gain fears, and dealing with issues common to those in recovery. Elisa Oras is also very good as a recovered person, now in her second pregnancy. Her focus is intuitive eating as well, and she posts videos on various ED topics. “BrainwashED” is the title of her book.

    One of the biggest advantages of online recovery help is that there are no “business hours”. With my weird sleep patterns, I can always look up a video or read something (short amounts, since attention span is still messed up). If I didn’t quite grasp something, I can rewatch or reread their content. I’m not judged, and I can pick and choose what seems like it will be helpful. There are some topics I don’t have issues with (spouse, kids, etc), so I can skip those. Repetition happens at my pace, and with the content that is most useful to me. It’s completely customizable. It takes a lot of repetition to rewire the brain to escape the eating disorder voice and rules. That was supposed to be the goal with my former therapist, but there was no instruction on how to do that. YouTube has excelled in “patient education” via these online recovery channels, as well as professionally directed seminars. I also ‘see’ people who have recovered, showing that it is possible, even without a ‘therapy’ angle. I am NOT ‘anti- inpatient eating disorder treatment’ or therapy in general. If someone needs a higher level of care, that should be the priority. It can help shave months off of recovery done only with outpatient resources, and if someone is medically unstable, hospitalization is critical. Every 52 minutes, someone dies from an eating disorder in the US alone.
    https://www.southdenvertherapy.com/blog/eating-disorder-statistics

    YouTube also has a lot of professional videos on eating disorders, to explain the nuts and bolts of EDs (not dependent on weight), and topics like refeeding, medical implications, etc. As a former RN of 35 yrs (worked 20 before my body broke), I appreciate the professional information. Dr. Jennifer Gaudiani is one I like. There are also good channels by “Balance”, “ACUTE” (medical stabilization unit in Colorado), and many more.

    Besides YouTube, there are a LOT of ‘written’ websites that have really good information. NEDA, BEAT, ANAD, Door2, Balance, ACUTE, and professional research sites have a ton of recovery information. There are many others as well, but these are the ones I’m most familiar with. I’m the sort that likes explanations about why something is happening or difficult, and the internet is loaded with them. I am cautious about sites with no connection to a legit organization. I recently learned that while there are great recovery coaches online, there are also pro-Ana ‘coaches’, which horrified me. If any site or ‘coach’ promotes restriction of any kind, they should be avoided like the plague. There is a sub-type of ‘Ana Coaches’ that get into twisted fetishes, asking people for photos of their decreasing weight, and use those photos for sexually pathological reasons. Their ‘coaching’ is a form of grooming for sexual exploitation, and blackmail is often involved. NEVER send photographs in any stage of undress to an online ‘entity’. Once they are on the internet, they can be shared and sold. You become ‘trafficked’, and some perv is out there spanking the monkey while looking at those photos. Ewww…

    Well, this is what I’m using now to get well, I hope. I’m able to understand that all bodies are different by looking at animals… I would like to be a greyhound, but am more of a bulldog. Neither dog is ‘wrong’ or ‘unworthy’, but simply that they are different types of dogs. Humans are also various shapes and sizes, and those are not ‘imperfections’, but simply how each of us is built. To deprive the bulldog of what it needs would be so very cruel, and yet that’s what I’ve been doing (or had done to me) for 55 years. It’s hard to undo that mindset, but that’s what I’m hoping for.


    Resources:
    https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/37906085/

    https://www.acute.org/?msclkid=602e9f1d8169160adfe0f6a1d312e2cd&utm_campaign=Branded&utm_medium=cpc&utm_source=bing&utm_term=acute%20eating%20disorder%20treatment%20center&utm_content=ACUTE%20Brand

    https://www.beateatingdisorders.org.uk

    https://anad.org

    https://www.door2.com.au

    https://balancedtx.com

    https://www.gaudianiclinic.com