Whoops.
In short, the break was mostly good. Well, kind of. It was terrifying to eat more, and most of my days were spent trying to figure out how to get in the fewest calories while still sending neither my body nor my family into shock. I discovered a few things about AJ's brain on food, which include:
1) The anxiety I experience as a result of eating more/worsened body image is directed OUTWARD in the form of irritability, rather than my starvation anxiety, which is directed INWARD (e.g., worrying about going insane, having a heart attack or some form of infection/bleeding disorder that hasn't been seen since 1502, etc). I really had to continue to check myself so that I wouldn't lash out at my mom, dad, sister, and brother in law. I really did feel like a drug addict going through withdrawal.
2) Continuing with the 'withdrawing addict' simile, I did realise that, irritability and anxiety aside, I did feel SO MUCH MORE clear-headed when I was eating more. The whole mental/psychological fog was lifted entirely after a couple weeks of refeeding, and I found myself running around the house, bounding up the stairs two steps at a time, laughing out loud, chasing and being chased by my ferrets, engaging in lively conversations, and slowly seeing more and more of myself emerge. It wasn't perfect, but it was the beginning of re-revealing who I am, to myself and the world.
3) My body felt stronger physically. Not strong, but stronger.
4) Good Lord, my face. I'm pretty sure every ounce of water that my body retained got stuck on my cheeks.
^Evidence.
It's a lot better now.
I also came to terms (or maybe just came out of denial) with the fact that my mom binges. It's not awful, and she's not overweight or anything. She does it at night because she (either consciously or otherwise) doesn't eat enough during the day, or if she does, she's always going for "healthier" alternatives. Once I saw her grab an apple after eyeing a bowl of chocolate squares, and the next morning when I came downstairs every last chocolate square had disappeared. She can't really control it, either. One time I bought some fat-free yogurt at the store and specifically asked that she not eat it, and she promised that she wouldn't... and it was all gone the next day. DUDE WHEN YOUR ANOREXIC DAUGHTER TELLS YOU SHE WANTS TO EAT SOMETHING, DON'T EAT IT. I can kind of pretend it doesn't happen if I'm not awake while she's bingeing, but usually I was. Usually my dad and I would be watching a movie around 11PM when she'd come down, having gone to bed maybe an hour or two earlier, and start just fucking devouring everything in sight. Boxes of cookies, bags of pretzels dipped in cottage cheese, more boxes of cookies dunked in milk, milk, more milk, and packages of Christmas candy. Plus any leftovers she could find in the refrigerator -- Chinese food, remnants of the spaghetti I'd forced down with a smile on my face for lunch, and lots of cheese.
That was when I really couldn't handle it.
I had to leave the room, take a lorazepam, or both. The eating disorder voice just kept saying, that's what you'll become. That's going to be YOU. That's in your blood, see; you're going to end up just like her if you start trying to recover. That's your future. That. Will. Be. YOU.
And then I'd just curl up into a ball and rock myself back and forth until my ferrets started looking at me weird. And then I'd snap at them not to judge me.
I sort of indirectly addressed it with her once -- we were having coffee in the morning and I made a joke about how much she eats at night (nothing mean -- just something like "oh, I don't want to buy any of that because it'll all be gone tomorrow anyway," with a laugh). Then the woman goes and says, "you know, I think I'm addicted to sugar."
*facepalm.* HOW many times has my mom had Intuitive Eating hammered into her head, both by myself and countless clinicians? I even fucking asked her to read it during my last stay at CFC. My dad did -- even though he'd read it before -- because he's awesome. My mom "hasn't gotten around to it." She's had more important things to do, like wait for her husband or daughters to bring her coffee in the morning when she's feeling sluggish because she just put away half a pumpkin pie eight hours ago. What do I find in her bedside drawer instead of "Intuitive Eating?" The "You: On a Diet" manual.
So I'm like, no, mom; it's impossible to be addicted to something your body needs, you don't eat enough during the day, yadda yadda yadda hunger/fullness cues, I never see you eat breakfast, and to her credit, the next couple of days she would have a big bowl of cereal and a banana in the morning, seemed to honour her cravings more throughout the day, and ergo ate considerably less or even not at all after 9PM. But a couple nights before I was scheduled to leave, she was back to her old shenanigans, and I was back to lorazepam and the fetal position.
Oh, and one day she also told me that the reason she didn't use any of the Christmas card photos we took over the summer was because she didn't like the way her "big stomach" looked in the pictures. Really, mom? It's difficult for me to hear my mother bad-mouthing her body, if only for the selfish reason that then I start to wonder if I'm built like her, and so if she has a big stomach, what sort of stomach can I look forward to in 40 years?
At least my sister's intuitive. She and, for the most part, my dad are pretty legit with that.
Also, my sister was super great this visit. We've never really had problems, but a lot of times when she comes to visit with her husband, their stay mostly involves the two of them taking off and visiting local high school/college friends the whole time. They still did that, but this time, both Em and P. invited me to come along, which was really nice, and I felt like they were seeing me more and more as a peer and not Em's narcissistic little sister. (I know their old friends, too, so it wasn't awkward.)
*
But now I'm back -- been back for a week -- and my therapist says she can tell that I lost weight even while I was visiting my family and eating more, which I guess is good.
Thanks, anorexic AJ, for peppering that one in.
This week has been maddeningly hectic. Yay double major and what the fuck do I think I'm doing? I'm trying to get more sleep, and, oddly enough, I've been pretty successful. I know there's no way I'm going to survive this semester if I don't conserve as much energy and regenerate my cells with sleep as much as I possibly can. Double majoring with a 400-level class + regular acting classes that require memorization and emotional presence/clarity + being in a show (which is looking, sadly enough, more and devastatingly more like Mother Courage and Her Sophomores) + anorexia 2 THA MAX!!! = potential burnout if I'm not very, very careful. Or even if I am very, very careful. We'll just have to wait and see.
Today I was so disgusted with my body (for no discernable reason) that I took a long walk for the sole purpose of burning calories. I'm not an overexerciser, and I really don't hope I pick that up this year. Fortunately the weather was nice, so I could semi lie to myself and use that as an excuse. But I knew what was up. I'm slick.
Also, I have an insanely hot TA that leads my theatre history discussion. He's German but grew up in France while attending a German/French school, so he has the perfect combination of both accents. My goal is to bang him, but I'm not sure how strong his sense of academic integrity is. Something tells me it's very strong. Strong like his biceps. Damn it.
Oh, and I did end up getting my period back this month (like the last week of visiting my family and eating x calories of not grapes, blueberries, celery, and edamame) so I'm not preggers.
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