Photo- mine
Well, I tried a week of not tracking everything, and had NO idea if I was getting enough calories in. I was tracking carbs, protein, and sodium. But I didn’t know if it was getting enough calories. My internal calorie calculator said no… I wasn’t eating enough. So, back to MyFitnessPal.
My biggest concern with not knowing ‘numbers’ is with my kidneys. If I don’t consume enough calories and carbs, but not too much protein, I end up in acute renal failure. My kidneys have been through that twice in four years, so I am afraid of that again. My ‘head’ gives me less grief about what I eat if there is a specific reason for doing so.
I hope that I can eventually get away from anything other than carbs (also needed for insulin dosing), protein, and sodium- to be sure I get enough. My nephrologist told me that I shouldn’t try to aim for only 2 grams of sodium, as our twisted US recommendations push. It messes up the balance of sodium and potassium, and with already lowish blood pressure, I need enough sodium to make sure that my blood pressure is enough to ‘feed’ my kidneys. Everybody is different- so the “one goal for every body” is pretty stupid and narrow-minded.
At any rate, I bombed not using the tracking gizmo.
Tag: malnutrition
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Well, I Tried Not Tracking Every Thing I Ate
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It’s Been A ‘Bleh’ Couple Of Weeks
Image- online search
The past couple of weeks have been exhausting for no good reason. My activity level essentially never changes with being housebound, but I’ve not felt great. With the colon cancer screening fails, that’s a bit unnerving, but the main areas of discomfort aren’t located in the iffy anatomical neighborhood, so that’s a little bit of a relief. I’ve had what feels like bruised ribs under my right armpit, but haven’t hurt anything there, so I don’t know what’s going on. I have a history of blood clots in my right lung, but that was 18 years ago, and I have no respiratory or cardiac symptoms. I need to make another THC dispensary run, since that’s what allows me to sleep, especially when I’m in pain.
The aftermath of the ex-therapist’s harm continues to be an emotional rollercoaster. I’ve heard and read so much more about her pattern of breadcrumbing and in some cases abuse that can’t be part of any normal therapy. I finally read a book about her, and was surprised but also not surprised. There was one situation in particular that she yelled at me when she called. The way she explained away that type of “therapy” in an interview was that the patients actually want that, so their eating disorder ‘mind’ isn’t as upset over the activity being yelled about, which is generally related to eating.
I’d had a rough day about 7 months into ‘therapy’ with her, and the patient she had talking to me on a regular basis had let her know that I hadn’t eaten what I was supposed to, so when Ex-T was home from her ‘food police’ time with the guy who showed up from Oz, she called me and yelled what I had to eat while she was on the phone, and then “don’t take all day with one cracker” (they’re dry, and I have physical issues with swallowing), “get X and eat it now”, etc. I was stunned, and miserably full when she got done shouting ‘orders’. She sounded SO different than the person I’d spoken with prior to that night. It was frightening.
In an email sent to her a while back, explaining how damaging the lack of contact had been, especially around the 2nd colonoscopy prep my GI doctor wanted done, her only response was how it all impacted her. NO comment about what I, HER PATIENT, had been going through. Then some vague comments about her health (a common explanation for lack of contact), with nothing specific disclosed (her prerogative), which was also a pattern. So, I’m trying to figure out what to do, and she’s having a pity festival over being butt hurt by my email about what was going wrong with the so-called therapy. The health stuff may be true (hope not) but it all fits into the breadcrumbing pattern of toxic control and psychological manipulation, so I don’t know if I can- or should- believe her. She’s still wanting some kind of contact, but I’m so far past wanting anything to do with her that I can’t see a situation where I’d want to talk to her again. At least I could block a couple of ways she could contact me, along with anyone I know who might be used to find out info from me, but I can’t block her on my email, unfortunately.
I am having more days when I’m not as bothered by her behavior, but it’s still hard to come to terms with how much worse this all was than what I’d envisioned. I didn’t think I’d be afraid to speak about her (via blogging), or find so many other examples on videos or in books where she was completely past any type of therapeutic ‘reason’ in what she did. She made up her own ‘condition’ to explain eating disorders, and there are parts of that that do resonate with a LOT of people, including me, though not as much now. She had some very good ideas at times, and when I first heard about her, I was amazed that she ‘got it’. But then having contact with her showed me someone unrecognizable from who I saw on a news program about her clinic. I also found a document on a financial website showing that the clinic had made over $9M CAD. Dun & Bradstreet is a known name, and it just came up when googling the clinic. This corresponds to the comments about how she lost interest in patients who ran out of money. Everything I’d seen in court papers from an investigation into her clinic pans out- and for so long, I didn’t want to believe any of that. That was my foolishness.
The holidays are also rough, not only with most of my family gone (who are around here and with whom I grew up), but with the eating disorder. I have a friend who invites me to every family holiday meal she hosts, which is SO kind, and I truly do appreciate being included. But I still can’t eat around others, and the autonomic disorder makes being inside a space with a thermostat set for normal people difficult, the stuff I’d have to drag with me is nuts, and also the temperature of what I eat impacts my declining invitations. I hope I get to the day when it’s not so hard.
I’m hoping that the pain of not getting well with Ex-T eases consistently in time, and that I get to the point of it being completely behind me. I won’t seek out help from another virtual therapy situation (or any new humans in general), and Medicare won’t pay for much- though I do have a very good dietician, so that helps. In the meantime, I’m exhausted physically and mentally, and am looking forward to possibly getting some snow this weekend. That generally perks me up for a while. -
Waves of Grief and Anger
Photo: Mine
Even though I fully understand that the manipulation and emotional control measures used by my ex-therapist is her pathological shit, it still deeply impacted me. She doesn’t seem to feel remorse about much, and sent me a message saying she hoped i didn’t turn all of the crap she threw at me against myself. WTF? She KNOWS my history of poor attachment and abandonment, and it seems her ‘kindness matters’ schtick is reserved for those who pay for it. I ran out of money, so my former therapist ran off for greener pastures, resulting in a month going by between calls, and always with some reason that didn’t stand up when she said what else she’d been doing. I’m guessing, based on 3 1/2 years of hearing various things from her, that she’s got more patients that are ripe for the squeezing (of parents’ bank accounts). God help them.
I’m still dealing with the grief of not being a success story with that particular therapist, but still hoping that I can do what so many have done, and do it with YouTube videos and the books by those whose channels I prefer. I’m still struggling a lot with what I see in the mirror, and to justify feeding that thing, but at the same time, I know I have to eat enough to stay out of acute renal failure. Chronic kidney disease from poor perfusion (related to decades of inadequate fluids, food, blood pressure, and heart rate) is lousy enough with the protein restrictions.
I’m grieving the person I saw early on in this fiasco, who WAS very attentive, kept in fairly regular contact, went above and beyond a few times when I was sick, or my blood sugar tanked and I was having trouble keeping it up, etc. That person was gone in January 2023. I completely understand that contact lessens with more stable intake and coping with the hell of learning to eat, but then don’t say that a call is coming when the schedule is already booked.
Don’t tell me about multiple (odd) medical issues, that aren’t taken care of, but while being “too ill” to even phone me, she’s off to London to see a patient, off to Canada to see a patient, assessing patients in various parts of Europe, attending conferences in Macedonia, and moving countries again… if she’s so damn sick, she’s certainly not slowed down by it.
When I’ve had medical issues come up, I’d send screenshots of lab work or test results. I can show proof of what is going on. I’ve had multiple chronic disorders since 1995, with pain, dysautonomia, fibromyalgia, epilepsy that was diagnosed in 1986, degenerative disc disease, degenerative joint disease, SI joint inflammation, gout, diabetes, kidney disease, and something I’m forgetting. The epilepsy diagnosis was ‘fine tuned’ diagnosis in about 2005 or so, with a 5 day video EEG that showed increased risk of seizures in the first stages of sleep- however I end up there… bed, low blood sugar, dysautonomia. There have been numerous times when what she told me about her medical stuff, or her daughter’s just hasn’t made sense. She’s not stupid, but I’m not sure if there was some misunderstanding from what the docs told her, or what. But 35 yrs of being an RN, with 20 of that working in various types of nursing (heavy on the ortho and neuro, as well as general med-surg), I can sniff out a skunk fairly well. But it could be that not being a medical person, it was a misunderstanding. All I know is that shit didn’t make sense.
I’ve been doing fairly well with getting food in to meet minimums with macros, and have for a while. I’ve also been using Liquid IV, in order to get enough sodium to keep my BP up (check with your doc before manipulating electrolytes, protein, fat, and carbs for your particular situation). Today, I even managed an apple-cinnamon bagel (scary) with some cream cheese and apple butter, and really liked it. It’s hard for me to say I like something, because my head insists that means I’m going to go nuts and eat an entire package. I was stuffed after that ‘normal’ (not massive) sized bagel and toppings- but I also know that it’s something that is filling, tastes good, and even though I was apprehensive, I got it down without a lot of inner dialogue about eating it.
Individually portioned products are also helpful, and feel safer (depending on what it is). And I’m trying some new things here and there, even if just a bite or two. I do like to try new things, but it’s still scary. Food shouldn’t evoke that kind of emotion. It’s simply a fuel to get my body through the day, as well as repair damage from decades of under-eating.
I am angry at the load of crap I was fed during the love-bombing, and believe none of it at this point. It all seems like one big scam. I feel so stupid for sticking around as long as I did. I think that by not having consistent contact, it’s supposed to make me more appreciative of any crumbs of attention she gave me, but I don’t operate like that. If someone doesn’t do what they say they will, I back off, and take notes. When the BS outweighs anything useful, I don’t let the door hit me in the ass on my way out. And I don’t think she gives a shit that she made things worse. She implied some kind of medical issue that was bad, but in her usual manner, she chooses words wisely that could be interpreted in multiple ways, including pure BS. If she really is sick this time, I don’t wish her any ill will. But I doubt everything she says now. Hopefully, the messages in the archived section of WhatsApp will stay quiet.
I also hope that my head calms down about this. She’s really not worth being upset about, and yet the waves of anger and grief still pop up. Writing helps. So, I write. -
How I Got To This Point Part 2: The Summer of Anorexia
Photo- El Arroyo in Austin, TX online photo
The summer before I started at the University of Illinois, I was working my second summer at a church camp I’d gone to as a kid for 7 summers (week long sessions). I loved that camp, and still consider it to be one of the most important spiritual factors in my life. Being outside and with nature is one of the biggest ways I relate to God. People lived what they believed, and it was fun.
I worked in the nature center the year before, as well as that fateful summer. The snakes, turtles, lizards, ferret, and raccoons were my responsibility. I was very self-conscious about my weight (as usual), and decided to use the increased activity at camp, along with calorie counting to get rid of what the ‘numbers’ said were wrong. I also felt I’d be largely unsupervised, which was important. That was back when women were supposed to be 100 pounds for 5 feet tall, and 5 pounds for every inch over 5 feet. That put me at about 135, which is NOT a weight where I look or feel healthy. I do not have a petite bone structure. I was also a figure skater for years prior to then, and my thighs were rock hard muscles.
I started off that summer by bringing my scale, calorie books, ‘expanding’ tablets to increase the feeling of fullness, and absolutely no common sense. Getting rid of the weight was THE most important thing for me to accomplish before having to compare myself to a university full of students. I wasn’t fat. I did have weight to lose, but I went off the rails. The diagnostic criteria for anorexia nervosa was different then. It counted the % of weight from the starting weight as the weight ‘rule’. I didn’t know that when I started out, but found out later (another future post). I lost a total of 1/4 of me in about 2 months. Now, it would be atypical anorexia. Face it- starvation is starvation no matter the size of the person.
What I hadn’t expected was an 88-pound anorexic with bulimic tendencies to be assigned to the same set of cabins I was, and became my guide to self-destruction. We became friends very quickly, and she taught me about laxatives for purging, the importance of exercising like a maniac, and how to avoid eating and nosey (concerned) coworkers. I woke up the first morning that we had campers (there was a week for staff only to get the ‘ins and outs’ of camp life before the kids arrived on Sunday). I ran down to the barn and back (2 mile round trip), and had an apple for breakfast. I felt great. I also was drinking about 6 cans of Tab per day (precursor to Diet Coke).
I lost 17 pounds the first week, and one of the counselors who went on “adventure camping” weeks (biking, river rafting, etc) didn’t recognize me when she got back the following Saturday. When people from the church I attended back then came to drop off their kids for a week long camp session, my mom would send ‘care baskets’ with body wash, quarters for laundry, and with the weight loss, a pair of rainbow suspenders to keep my jeans up (rainbow suspenders were a ‘thing’ with no other meaning than Mork wore them on “Mork and Mindy”). I didn’t feel any different, but got a ‘high’ from seeing the numbers drop on the scale.
The head honchos at the camp (direct supervisor, camp nurse, and main boss over the campus) knew something was wrong fairly quickly. They threatened to keep my paycheck unless I ate, but legally couldn’t do that. Over the next 4 weeks I lost another 23 pounds, and the nurse from the year before was in the area, and the camp folks sent me off with her on nights off, to talk some sense into me. She tried hard. But I was already hooked.
My folks came up to visit me (first time they’d done that, so I’m not sure if they were notified of the weight loss), and actually talked to me more than when I’d been heavier. Coincidence? Maybe- but for weight obsessed parents, I found it disappointing that I was ‘worth more’ if I weighed less. That was a big reinforcement of the determination to drop weight. And aside from the suspenders, they didn’t mention my rapid weight loss.
Over that summer, I lost 45 pounds altogether, and just had a couple of weeks at home before heading to the University of Illinois in Urbana-Champaign. A third of my hair had fallen out, I was freezing all of the time, I’d turn blue, and other students on the dorm floor knew something wasn’t right. When they caught me after I’d gone to the water fountain to fill my water mug, I was in a light winter coat, jeans, and 6 pairs of socks in very humid central Illinois, in late August. My feet felt cold through the socks. They called the resident advisor (more senior student for one dorm floor, for those not in the US), who called the resident director (over the whole girls side of the dorm), and they shipped me off by ambulance for a night in the university health center hospital. I had to talk to a psychiatrist in the morning. I thought they were nuts. I wasn’t thin enough yet. But, the psychiatrist disagreed, and the diagnosis of anorexia nervosa was given. In order to stay in school, and not have to tell my parents I was in trouble, I agreed to the therapist. I saw her for the entire semester, and early part of the next one.
More on the University of Illinois “routine” with how anorexia impacted me in another post.