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Read Part 1 here
In the height of my ED, my IBS was only an issue when I ate, so I tried not to. When I went into recovery and had to eat, my symptoms went into overdrive and I was sick no matter what I ate. Although I was telling myself I was improving, I was still restricting (to a lesser degree) and when I felt the need, would try to make myself sick. To avoid suspicion, I would sometimes eat my allergy foods (i.e. bread) to force a reaction. After about 3 months, I realised I wasn’t reacting anymore. I had put on about a stone, was eating regularly and was chock full of meds. And I was able to stomach food I hadn’t eaten in 4 years.
Cut to 2 years later and I started seeing a dietitian to push through the next hurdle of recovery. Besides addressing my eating patterns and my vegetarianism, she gave me a list of foods to avoid. These low-FODMAP foods were not the extent of the restrictions I had put on myself previously. Basically, I don’t eat apples, mushrooms, onions and honey and I keep white bread to a minimum. As it turns out, my symptoms are highly correlated to my stress levels – which fits completely with my history of depression and anxiety. When I started to get these under control, my IBS was a lot easier to handle too.
The reason I decided to bring this up had to do with the current exam period. I hadn’t been experiencing any symptoms for a while. Like the reading week before it, this reading week had driven me into a frenzy of thoughts of failing and ideals of perfection. An added bonus of the Spring Semester was a stressful work placement and an almost constant string of rehearsals in the period leading up to the exam. The culmination of this was a week of alternately restricting and binging on a daily basis.
Soon, the tests were upon me but I felt prepared. I knew my shit and went into Anatomy to give a sigh of relief that the questions I felt particularly strong at had come up. One hour in and half the questions done, I felt a stabbing pain in my gut. I tried to ignore it but eventually I caved and was escorted to the bathroom. I got sick, felt better and headed back to finish off what was to be a kickass exam. My insides had other plans and I only lasted fifteen more minutes before I called uncle and left the exam hall, test unfinished, to get sick. Disgusted and disappointed don’t begin to cover how I felt that day.
Whether I like it or not, food is always going to be an issue. IBS doesn’t go away, it just fades into the background before rearing its ugly head in times of crisis. My eating disorder seems to follow the same pattern and the two have become intrinsically linked. Maybe if I didn’t have IBS, I would have never restricted a food group and become accustomed to not eating. Maybe if I had never had an ED, my IBS wouldn’t have exacerbated as badly as it did. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. With both conditions, the disease does not just disappear. You find ways to live and ways to cope.
To be continued…
I talk about my history of ED a lot here. What I have never really gotten around to is talking about the other issues I have with food.
When I was 11, I started getting sick. At least 5 times a week, I would have no choice but to take to my bed with stomach spasms, pain and all manner of symptoms. No body had any idea what was wrong with me. I was afraid to go to parties, to leave the house, to do anything in case I got sick while I was out. It was around this time that I started to withdraw and become introverted, partly due to my illness, partly due to first episode of depression. This continued for five years with no change.
Various visits, tests and misdiagnoses later, a gastroenetrologist diagnosed me with IBS. Although I now knew what I was dealing with, I was still frustrated; IBS is a diagnosis of elimination – basically, nothing else was wrong with me – and it was a chronic syndrome i.e. there is no cure, only remissions and exacerbations.
To counteract this, I decided to cut out all wheat, yeast and various foods out of my diet completely. My sickness episodes (while still ever present) decreased dramatically and I also lost about half a stone in a short enough period of time. I was also starting walking and eating healthier in general and I was happy that I was able to be freer with my social life and was looking better. I was still dealing with depressive and anxiety episodes but I had come a long way from my earlier days.
When I decided to quit self harming (another story for another day), I took up binge eating instead. When I gave up the wheat and other foods, I switched to tracking the ingredients in food. This turned into tracking the calories and then reducing calories. The more stresses I had in my life, the more stringently I kept to my “diet”. The less food I ate, the less I was sick (there was nothing in my stomach to make me sick) but overeating, and even normal eating, pushed my body to such an extreme that I was put off eating properly again for days.
To be continued…
I am four days without sugar and I kind of want to die. Or kill everyone else around me, I’m not quite sure yet.
I do see the benefits. I do not have multiple crashes due to low blood sugar during the day. My binging has pretty much stopped (I know its only been four days but thats still a pretty big deal for me.) I need a lot less food to keep me full because I’m eating lots of protein and unprocessed food.
But right now, in the midst of it, it still kind of sucks. The headaches, the upset stomach, the mood swings. And more than all of them, I have to actually feel my feelings. Turns out that I have a lot of them. And they aren’t that happy that there is no sugar to placate them anymore.
So when anxiety, depression and panic sets in, what do I do now that I can’t suckle on a piece of chocolate?
For one, I’m being a total hippie and meditating a lot. Every morning. It keeps me sane until lunch at the very least and I am becoming slightly less uncomfortable with my raw emotions everytime I just sit down to contemplate and breathe.
I am back on the exercise wagon and have done something active everyday for the last three weeks. Sometimes it is a quick half hour going gung ho with kickboxing, sometimes its a run or a long walk, other times its yoga and on days that I am tired, it might be a simple 10 minutes of some ab work. But doing a little everyday is suiting me a lot better than going insane three or four times a week and utterly dreading it. And it all balances out to around the same amount of time (4-5hours) a week – its just that I actually enjoy it this way.
Last, but not least, I am trying to keep myself busy with the to do list I make every morning. 8-10 things to accomplish during the day so if I’m at a loss at what to do I can just look at my notebook and see that, “oh yes, I wanted to practice three sections of that piano piece” or “I almost forgot tidy my room.”
Hopefully by my next post, I won’t feel so homicidal. I’m off to nurse this headache and watch some Dr. Who.
One Year Ago, I accepted my place in Medicine in UCC.
Today, I accepted my place in Nursing in UL.
One Year Ago, I was dangerously underweight.
Today, I am the healthiest I have ever been in my life (albeit technically overweight…but health is achievable at EVERY size.)
One Year Ago, my priority was wasting away to as low a weight as I could.
Today, my priority is making the best life possible for both me and the people I love.
One Year Ago, I felt like a child overwhelmed.
Today, I feel like a confident adult.
One Year Ago, everyday was a struggle.
Today, I appreciate life.
Its amazing the difference a year can make.
Monday will mark my third week of Overeaters Anonymous. That’s right, kids, I’m in a 12 step programme. Whilst therapy and my doctors have helped me make huge strides in my recovery over the last year, I felt there was still something missing. So I am currently going to online meetings, talking with my sponsor and working the steps to break free from this “spiritual malady.”
Spirituality is a hard concept for me to swallow. A self confessed atheist for about 8 years, it was this part of the program that I knew would cause me the most trouble.
I don’t know when this changed exactly, there was no “eureka” moment per se. But I feel there is something there. And I am finally start to trust in whatever that is.
I used to be afraid of God because of my fear and disdain for religion. When my morals clashed with that of the Catholic church, I believed that there was no place for me. And since I could only do what I felt is right, I cut myself away completely and depended solely on philosophy and science. My family is not strict Christian at all (my mom is a liberal Christian and my dad is agnostic) so I was always taught to be open minded and accepting of everyone. But like every other child in Ireland, religion and catechism is part of your school curriculum until you enter third level education. And the older I got, the more I found myself disagreeing with some of the principals of the Church (I particularly hate the homophobic nature of some Christians, as well as not seeing eye to eye about things like contraception, abortion, feminism, insert more liberal beliefs here….) It was all very black and white to me: I either was a catholic or I wasn’t. So I chose to not be.
I may not have been content in some areas of my life – my issues with relationships, my friendship problems, my self hatred and harm, my ED – but this was one thing I was certain about. Surely science would not fail me, even when it felt like everything else had.
Recently, my friend (full of alcohol and honesty) worried the hell out of me with some of her personal revelations, but instead of dwelling on it and trying to change her (which I know from past experience does not work) I put my trust that there was a reason for all this, that there was a bigger picture – yes, even that God will take care of what I am unable to. It is difficult to see your friend in distress and say no more than I love and support you. But I trust that that was all I, just one little girl in a big bad universe, could do.
I have no desire to return to my old church, and maybe I will never return to organised religion. But that does not mean I have to be without God. If I am meant to find a religion, God will guide me there. As regards my current confusion towards morality and sexuality, God will guide me. I know if I want to recover, I have to have this willingness.
I don’t know what I believe – or the where, how, why, who, when, of anything. All I know is that I am changing as a person. And that that is not necessarily a bad thing.
My voice died. I tried CPR, the paddles, everything. Except shutting up. Maybe that deserves a go. In any case, I can’t go to Season’s Greetings tonight, which is disappointing as it is always a highlight of choir and I have been in it for the last 2 years. But I would have to hit several high A’s if I went, and I am not even thinking about an A until next week.
This said, I still proceed to hang out with Dad as he learns Nella Fantasia. What started out with helping him pronounce Italian quickly became us jamming out a harmony so we can duet and scare people in the pub. Needless to say, the vocal cords aren’t happy.
As it’s coming to the end of 2010, expect a post soon about what I learned this year and any resolutions I may attempt. Lame, I know. I was going to write it now. But I thought at this side of Christmas it would be even lamer. 2010 was one of the best and worst years of my life in many ways, so a look back will be interesting.
In the meantime, I decided to set some really really easy December goals to keep some ounce of motivation in me. I have three, one a week until New Year’s Eve. And the overall goal is to either journal or blog as I go. But that’s just a hope.
Week 1: Drink 8 glasses of water a day (I am bad for drinking anything but tea. And this way, my skin will be nice and clear and kidneys good and hydrated.)
Week 2: Meditate once a day (My mind is going 90 pretty much all the time. And for anyone unfamiliar with the irishism, going 90 means going really, really fast and all over the place. [It can always mean mad in a good way e.g. the craic was 90 = it was tremendous fun])
Week 3: Cut out (or at least reduce) the processede sugar in my diet (I sugar crash a lot. And then I get upset.)
Over and out, compadres.
I am cynical. And logical. And essentially atheistic. And I love a nice bit of scientific proof to back up any claim. So it is a wonder that I get on famously well with an alternative healing nun.
This morning was a health morning in my mom’s CDP. Thanks to Regeneration, the last of the housing estate (besides the project itself) is being torn to the ground. I mention this merely to contrast this mass of destruction with the healing that is slowly but surely affecting my soul.
I sipped on a smoothie while I waited for Maire (the alternative healing nun) to be free. Not my first time with Maire, she greeted me with a giant hug and a congratulations on my LC results. And then we chatted. Its no wonder people go to her for counselling. I filled her in on leaving college, what I’m up to now, the cold I can feel coming on (she noted I was pale) and random other anecdotes concerning the family (such as Helena’s goal at her GAA match yesterday 
) Then came the alternative part.
So maybe Bio-Resonance Testing isn’t an orthodox medical approach. But damn it if it hasn’t improved my health ten-fold in the past. I don’t want to believe in this stuff, but if it can suss out my wheat allergy and make life significantly easier to handle, then I trust. My energy is down at 9, it seems. Which is a fail considering it was a 23 last time (its out of 30.) I explained my weight loss situation to Maire and I’ll be seeing her again soon.
Part 2 of my healing today was my first ever Reiki experience. Reiki was something I was even more loathe to subscribe to. I mean, honestly, what was this supposed to do. For the first 5 minutes, my thoughts raced, and I realised how all over the place my mind actually is. It’s difficult to switch off. I made progress as the 20 minute session went on. Your eyes close deeper, your body feels warm, your muscles heavier, stiller. And I woke up more at peace than I have in months. The practitioner told me I needed to be more grounded (which I agree with) and that I essentially have my head in the clouds. She also said that I had been blocking part of the creative side of my brain. Ok.. I thought. Did I write? Why, yes, I do, in fact. Have you been writing a lot less lately? YES. You should start writing more again. Freaky, considering my blogging has gone to death lately. This is a sign.
So improvement seems on the horizon. Even if it wears off after a day 
First person to cite that quote gets a special prize!*
So I fainted last night. Twice. It was late and my ear piercing felt weird so I decided to get up and give them an aul clean. A little blood but nothing to faze me. Tried to jam the earring back in, realised it only goes halfway and made my peace with the fact that I could essentially have to repierce my ear. That’s the last thing I remember until my mom and dad were shaking me awake. Bless them, I was delirious.
I woke up this morning, a little fuzzy but no worse for wear. Disappointed in the fact that I am going to have to go without earrings from now on. Of course, I could always push the earring back in, or get them repierced and keep forcing myself through this same petty ordeal (this is the second time an earring related incident like this has happened) or I could get over it. Is there any point into trying to force something? Cause some more pain? Just for another incident to happen again. Maybe I needed that short, sharp shock. Maybe this is for the best in the end. Like everything else.
*The special prize being my hard earned respect. You know you want it.
I HATE BEING SICK! Seriously, there is only so much tv and computer I can take and I don’t have the energy for much else. There’s only so much Comedy Central re-runs I can take before my mid starts to wander and get lost in Kantian ethics and the like (oh yes that philosophy book I bought IS kicking in.) Its gotten to the point where I’ve spent more that 20 minutes on Bebo at a time and I’m seriously considering joining Facebook. Its getting dire, people.
So, let’s focus on the important things in life. Costumes. Halloween is upon us and since in seventeen years I’ve never not dressed up, I ain’t gonna start now. I was fairly well planned until last night. I was going to be Rizzo from Grease because my friend had given me a really awesome 50s-style dress, which as I remembered it only required a little bit of length altering. On trying it on though, we came to the conclusion that it was way more trouble than it was worth.
My original idea for a costume proved equally as complicated. As my last Halloween as a legal child, I was going to recreate my favourite costume from childhood, an homage, if you will, to all those Halloweens gone by. When I was three years old, I was Cinderella. Not just any old Cinderella, pre-transformation Cinderella. In all her raggy glory.
Its proving more difficult to get it together than I anticpiated.
So, any ideas? I’m thinking any character from a musical would be awesome. I know if all else fails I’ll just stick on a suit and be Joanne from Rent.
The beauty of musical characters is you don’t necessarily need to look like them.
Another good theme would be anime characters. If I can find a good ‘un, I’ll cosplay for Eirtakon. And you know you all want to see that 
Maybe Yuiko from Loveless? I do love the cat ears.
Now where do I find a pink wig….
I’m missing school today. Hurray for whatever is infecting my trachea and lungs. But not really. There’s things to be learned. Like Cathal O Searcaigh poems and integration.
But since there’s nothing can be done, why not write a blog? Yes, they have been sparse lately, and yes, all I ever seem to do on this thing is excuse myself of the neglect I so continually involve myself in, but I think I’m past apologizing. Why waste more screen space?
So as I lay in bed, filling the house with the sound of what can only be described as a man-cough, I once again (dude, this is becoming a pattern) find myself musing on time. Not just in my regular “I am an exam student, now listen to me bitch” kind of way. Well, a little bit, but I haven’t quite got around to reading much Steven Hawking lately. When I do, there’ll be a totally physics based discussion on it. Swear
But time is flying. Its almost Halloween already and it feels like summer is only just ended. There is only a certain amount of hours in the week and really, I need to utilise them better. I spent like five hours doing my homework yesterday and I’m fairly sure I could have halved that, had I the ability to do anything without first going completely anal retentive on my notes. I wile away sections of the evening that could be perfectly well spent doing some exercise or tidying my room watching that same episode of Scrubs I’ve seen 18 times over and scrounging round the house for food I’m not even hungry for. And I moan about my lack of time for a social life and to see everyone, but if I didn’t insist on going all the way out to the Coach so much, that problem would probably be under wraps too.
So, does one self sabotage themselves as regards time? Are people just inclined towards procrastination? More so in times of stress? Or have I just spent another 28 minutes of my life rationalising my own bad habits?
