Be Tough to Beat the Tough

I will start with saying that every day is a battle. Don’t get me wrong though – its not necessarily a bad thing. It has to be tough in order to truly be successful. All of this food stuff, staying on track with meal plans, getting in calorie counts, all the hard work in New York, it doesn’t end when you leave the building or even the state. The institute was a sanctuary that only bestowed its best benefits through the time served in the trenches. It took effort to break old habits but, being in an entirely different situation, the edge of impossibility was sanded down. It took less time than I would have thought to form a new routine that incorporated a new calorie and meal regimen befitting of the hospital setting.

Here now, out and about, trying to fit my new way of seeing things into the old setting that I came from, is proving the difficulty that the professionals have been claiming. I have been doing well so far but I feel in my heart that I could be doing better…doing more. I know its a matter of baby steps and I have by no means relapsed in any sense of the word but just moving forward and pushing beyond claims so my of my being on the very minute daily breakdown levels. Each hour, each minute, I have to plan the next move while simultaneously facing the eating disorders ever-present voice of illogical reasoning. It does try to sneak its way in consistently.

I want to look forward to a life without its voice and yearning for influence but I can’t foresee that happening at the moment. I’m not at all trying to sound pessimistic about it all…just realistic. There may come a day when my head it quiet and food can be entirely enjoyed without a din of rebuttal but I know that day is not today. Being so conscious of that fact actually makes me proud at this point. I’m choosing to face these demons head on. I know its a tough situation but I have faith that I can be just as tough in my own personal food fight.

 

 

Gloves on - its another day in the ring!!!

 

 

Not an End but a Beginning

I know its been a little while since I have written and I don’t like that fact. Circumstances out of my control arose as my life, once again, readjusted itself. Sometimes it seems like a constant state of fluctuation, these days, months, years that we live. Sometimes for the better and sometimes with a hope for ease in the future, but always for the purpose of carrying on.

I have left New York. The return trip back to Virginia was reminiscent of the trip north back in July. My bags, despite having shipped 2 boxes of things I acquired in the city back early, were just as cumbersome and heavy as ever and I occupied my time on the train much the same way as before with writing and audio-books. My Mom picked me up from the station near her house and we made our way back to her place through the dark, still night.

Things are different though. I feel like my journey has quite a stretch to go from here. I am not returning to the situation I had expected when I first left for treatment. There is a reason I am staying this first night with my mom instead of driving back to the house I share with my husband. There is a melancholy sadness surrounding that situation combined with an extreme hope for things to come. I don’t know how much more I can say right now but I have decided to keep the blog up as my recovery and my life continue to unfold.

I’m not exactly sure where all of this will take me but I know the road will be beautiful in all the possibilities that line its way.

Venturing Adventure

The stars stretch northward from my gaze as I lay on my back beneath them. Consumed by their expanse on this straggling last day of summer the green metal bench is only slightly chilled under my back. To the south are the frilly borders of the slowly burning treetops that build the natural wall between the fresh air park and the highway. East of me is the Inst Center, home sweet home at the moment, and wast is the top of the tall wire fence surrounding the yard. The others are still strolling slowly, pacing the perimeter, but I feel like I have walked enough today. Its finally a time that I can kick off from all the bustle and open up to reflection. I am here, now, and this is what I see. With so much going on its rare to get a clear view in the city.

Its been a long day but a good one. Abound with adventure things didn’t entirely pan out as I had expected but the time had was no less exciting and new. To start there was the very first makeshift art therapy group. If you go by the true bare bones definitive it was actually more of a themed art collective since I had to leave before any therapy really came into play. The project I had come up with involved glue, large heavy paper, scissors, and the immense amount of old magazines we have piling up everywhere. Because of the scissors we had to request the watchful eye of a staff member but Victoria was happy to do it. The instructions were self-interpretive and basically called for the creation of words and pictures to create a self-portrait.

Not everyone on the unit participated but the six who did later reflected on how much they enjoyed it. I had to leave at 11:00 to begin the day’s pass outing but they were all still working diligently even as I stepped out the door. I would have liked to look at everyone’s creations in the end but it just didn’t happen this morning. Actually, that sort of brings up a wall for me. O one hand I would love to hear how people would interpret their self-portraits but, on the other, even though I was asked to lead this group, I don’t want anyone to feel like I am overstepping my bounds by acting like a teacher. I don’t want to be resented. All in all though I have been told by each who attended that it was an enjoyable success. I have been assigned to head up the same alloted time with a new project next week.

As the morning wore on our pre-lunch departure time gained bearing. First things first, upon leaving the building Benji, Amy, and I happily pardoned the Starbucks that had successfully positioned itself kitty corner to the subway entrance. As good as Starbucks coffee is though I am truly seeing its money-consuming potential. I will have to remember to ask Molly which sidewalk cart she frequents in the mornings. Apparently, whatever shes getting as her coffee fix is just as good, if not better, than Starbucks and its only costs the same $.75 as it does in our regular 6th floor cafe.

After we had armed ourselves with caffeine and ice water the three of us trek towards the underground. The subway station’s lower platform has the heat of a snake pit but we are lucky. The train that is meant to carry us to the Washington Square Park Soho area of Manhattan pulls within a minute of our descent into the dank. We board the A-train express and begin to 40 minute bullet shot to the day’s unfolding agenda.

I’ll Pass

Its another weekend and I am so close to getting 4a and passes I can practically taste it. What happens is that you have to hit your 90% two times, for me that would be Monday and Wednesday, and then at team meeting on Thursday I will get the official “go ahead”. I already have this coming weekend booked as far as places I want to go and I can barely contain the anxious excitement that makes me jittery at the thought of exploring. The city is laid out before me and all I have left is the green light of health.

The deal with passes is that you write one out on a formatted sheet of paper and drop it in the request box so the staff can review it at one of the 2 team meetings held during the week. The yellow sheet of paper that gets filled out is very specific, especially when it comes to eating meals out. You have to not only be exact about what you are going to go do while out but also how you will get there. They need specific departure and return times and, most importantly, where we plan on eating. All passes span across the time of at least one of the daily meals and sometimes, at the end, two meals  and/or an overnight out. Many people live or have family in the area and the “practice” of returning home can be very beneficial.

The most important part of a written pass is the part of the meal. On the unit we have a thick alphabetized binder of menus from around the city. For a pass we not only have to write down where we are eating but also what we plan on ordering down to drinks and sauces used. Beyond that we even have to write down a backup plan in case what we want to order isn’t available. One of the biggest inspections a pass gets in the review process is Sally, the unit’s dietitian, approving of our meal construction. As of late I have been perusing the menus and just jotting down some combinations that work, trying to model a plate of food out based off the components that come on our tray here. Tomorrow I will be going over my choices with Sally because she actually won’t be here for my first 2 weeks on passes.

I can feel the excitement for this taste of newly acquired recovery strength building as I write. My plans for this coming Saturday start off around 1 pm. Just after lunch on the unit I’ll be off to navigate the subway down to Sullivan Street where I have a 2:00 hair appointment scheduled at Mudhoney. Heather recommended the place and, after checking it out online, it looks like its right up my alley. After that is a bit of window shopping in the area and then dinner and an evening movie with actual movie popcorn. I can only imagine how tired I’ll be returning back by 8 pm for snack.

Then, on Sunday, is the Bust magazine Renegade craft fair in Queens. Handmade goodies with quirky personality? Yes, please! Count me in! So that day I’ll be eating lunch out and I’m pretty sure I will be joined by Benji and Amy.

At this point I’ve got my fingers and toes crossed that everything goes smoothly. If all of it pans out it will be just what I have been waiting for.

Moving on to the next step!

The Cloisters

Holy hand-stitched intricacy!

The hard seat is chilly beneath me, its orange plastic not yet warmed by previous human bodies on this commuter-sparse Sunday morning. We are on the A train, Nurse Greta, Diane, Molly, and myself riding just a few stops to avoid the uphill trek to the Cloisters Museum and Gardens. We get off almost as soon as we sit down and exit the station into a world that could be countries away from the Manhattan I have come to know in these last few weeks. The stone stairs, as we emerge from the city’s underground, unfold and climb through more foliage than I have yet seen in New York.

We pop out into the daylight of Fort Tryon Park. It is astounding. The multi-level layout with its granite walkways, walls, tunnels, occasional short sets of stairs. It provides a beautiful view of the Hudson from almost all of the different paths and trails and apparently we are not alone in thinking its weather-perfect day to be out here. If it wasn’t for Greta there is a good chance I would have done my time in the city without ever knowing that any of this existed.

The paths through Tryon Park weave gracefully along as we pass people with dogs, babies in strollers, yoga on the lawn, and a weekend game of ultimate frisbee before opening up to the base of the museum. A cloister itself is an integral part of a monastery. The name was given to a square or open-air courtyard surrounded by covered passageways. It was basically a sheltered, sunny place where the monks or nuns living there could enjoy nature without leaving the confines of their home and place of worship. The Cloisters Museum contains 4 different cloister gardens, each with its own theme, time period reference, and sculpted fountain designating the center. They are placed throughout the two floors of the structure. Medieval art of all different times and origins, collected in bits and pieces all over the world, grace the rooms and hallways throughout. As a branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art it has been open to the public since 1938 and teems with architectural fragments of antiquital beauty incorporated into the fabric of the building itself. As we wander through, our allotted 50 minutesof touring time flying by almost unnoticed, I am nothing less than bombarded with jaw-dropping works of art. Here there is everything from ceramics, metalworks, stone carvings, wood sculpture, stained glass, immense hand-woven tapestries, and much much more.

Going in I know instantly why Greta has said several times that she wishes we didn’t have to be back so soon. Its not a huge museum but, with such a magnificent and well-kept collection, it deserves more of our attention than we can give it today. Sooner than I would have thought possible its time to scuttle outside and catch the bus back home…

But I’ll be back. I can guarantee that.

Movin’ on up

I am sitting at my desk looking out the window. This would be the new, large, double window with its own built-in book shelf ledge that I am speaking of. I’ve got blinds that are mine to adjust and enough floor space to comfortably accommodate my slowly growing turrets of miscellany. I already know that i will be sending some of these things home with my mom and Chris when they come to visit. There is just no way I am going to make it to the train station, let alone all the way back to Virginia, with all these extras. What I was getting at though, what all of this amounts to, is the announcement that I have officially moved into my single bed suite. Are those trumpets sounding in the distance that I hear?

Its been a bit of musical rooms here recently. Elle moved out, Heather moved into Elle’s spot, then Carrina went home and now I have moved into her old room. Next Thursday Elle goes home and I will be sharing a bathroom with either Molly or Amy. Its all in the rotation. Even though I had told Elle that I would be taking the single room that adjoins hers as soon as I could I almost didn’t when it became available yesterday. When she had moved out of our double room and I had the chance to have the space all to myself and I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. I was wary though of which new patient might be coming to fill that space before Carrina’s room opened up. Then along came Heather.

At 5’11” her stature was a bit intimidating at first. Upon initial impression she struck me as someone who could hold her ground. She was friendly when approached but wore a no bullshit expression as she seemed to take in her surroundings with all seriousness. It wasn’t until the evening of her first day that we actually had a chat while getting ready for bed in our newly shared room. We exchanged the basics, her being a 33-year-old bartender originally from California but living in New York for the past couple of years, and then moved on as the conversation flowed.

After a while I found out that we actually have quite a bit in common. One of the main things that we share are the roots of our eating disorders. For both of us the restriction of food stemmed from the act of becoming sober from previous alcohol abuse. Shes got 5 and 1/2 years of sobriety time and October 4th will mark my third year. With the realization that sobriety was achievable we had each decided that to start eating right and getting in shape was the next step to a healthy body and clear mind. Then, for each of us, that desire to achieve health just spun out of control without either of us realizing it. We had each basically traded one addiction of another.

This relevation was amazing to me. In all my years of dealing with eating disorders, learning about them and having one myself, I had never met anyone who could really identify with where I was coming from. To say that it felt really good would be a severe understatement. With what we had in common and us getting along I almost didn’t want to move out of the double room. It was actually a tough decision but, in the end, the pros of moving outweighed the cons. I needed more space and it wasn’t like I was going very far. I know for a fact though that I want to get to know Heather better, and there will definitely be time for that in the months to come.

Balancing Act

Brynn is a clean-cut Jewish girl from a large orthodox  family. Maybe I should rephrase – with somewhere around 100 cousins and 12 siblings just in her immediate household, her entire family is more like gargantuan. In her time not spent inhabiting hospitals due to her anorexia she is a 30-year-old teacher of mentally challenged children. Originally from Canada she moved to New York just a few years back and was hospitalized for 5 weeks and then transferred here with us almost two weeks ago. In another week one of her brothers is getting married so many of her relatives are in town for the event. They call, one after another after another, at all hours keeping Brynn so busy at the payphone that she rarely has time to settle down into any sort of leisure activity.

With multiple visitors each day and not being able to take 10 steps from the phone I would be desperate for solitude after about a day and a half. Its all just further proof though of the diversity that walks through these double locked doors. Brynn, on the other hand, loves her family without abandon and does nothing to hide her excitement of their, both announced and unannounced visits. Heck, she doesn’t hide her excitement about anything and it seems that everything, from a french braid in her hair, to a new TV show, to a big brownie, gets her excited. Brynn is something of a 1,000 watt eternal sunshine and proud of it.

Occasionally the exasperation over what so many of us would deem mundane gets overbearing but thats only because most people are just not used to it. She talks incessantly and exudes an extreme polite friendliness consistently. Admittedly, through the mindfulness teachings of our weekly DBT group, she reacts at this point primarily with her emotional mind. Impulse following impulse in a strange indecisive governing of actions. We all do this though when we are underweight. Without enough nourishment the rational side of the mind loses focus and its ability to think things through falters.

The drive of the emotional mind will change as we regain health and the ability to practice finding a balance between the two becomes more available. The balance is known as “wise mind” and it just means taking both sides into account. All of Brynn’s exuberance is the best she can do to rationalize her emotional mindset. For many of us, when we try to do this, the result of the rational mind’s exertion just causes us to be numb to our emotions but is not usually enough to gain any sort of wise mind balance. For Brynn, her rational mind allows her to mask her outward expressions of unhappiness with an attitude so constantly positive that it seems fake sometimes, but only because we aren’t sure how she can stay so upbeat.

Things will change with time though, as always, and for myself, I’m finding I’m more and more in control of my decisions these days…and all I can say is that it feels great.

(That last statement may have come from my emotional mind but I don’t think it needed any rationalization. )

The Danger Zone

I’m going to start off by saying that it is very hard to talk about or to the new girl, Lisa. Heck, its hard to just look at her. She is tall with chin-length brown hair, brown eyes, dainty fingers, a slow speaking voice, and she is nothing. There is nothing to her. Her thin translucent skin stretches over each and every curve of bone to give pure definition to the movements of skeletal structure. By the laws of science and human anatomy its a miracle that shes breathing, let alone standing up, and thats something she can’t seem to stop doing. Lisa is a self-admitted exercise addict as well as anorexic and she is never just sitting. She is either asleep or walking around.

Lisa has been living in Seattle up until recently when she moved to New York to start law school. After only a week of classes she gave in and made the critical decision to come here and, for her, at 29, its not the first time in treatment. One of the scariest things is that one of her previous treatments was this program which she left, at a healthy weight, just last January. Thankfully she knows, at least on some level, that she needs to be here. Although I don’t know what her mindset was like before, at this point shes vocally appalled at herself for having fallen down that familiar rabbit hole again and so quickly.

I look at Lisa and see the sickest thinnest (at this point the two words are interchangeable, so take your pick) person I have ever seen in my life. At Remuda, someone thinner than me coming into the program, was triggering. Here, at Columbia, all it does is scare the pants off me. I had been so close to that myself, definitely mentally, if not physically. I was too close for comfort to being so entirely lost. I can’t express how glad I am to be given the chance to find my life again. (Big sigh of relief from a set of working lungs now.)

Right now Lisa is settled into the quiet room. Its the same room I was in when I first got here. For me it was just transitional, until another room opened up, but for Lisa its for medical surveillance reasons. She is deemed critically unstable and has the orders, for the moment, to do only 2 things – eat and sleep. Above it all though, no matter how she looks or how slow and disjointed her speech may be, her mindset of recovery seems to be in the right place. She is eating 100% so far and comes off outwardly positive. We’ll have to see what the next few weeks bring but I do, emphatically, hope the best for her.

Ahoy, Room-matey!

I guess I got my wish. With 2 more new patients in just 2 days the beds are filling up and rooms are getting switched around. Jeanette broke down saying her goodbyes in Community Meeting today and her beautiful French accent was apparent even through her tears. Having grown up in Paris she is now 24 and has been making her way in New York for almost 3 years now, going to school and actually working in a different part of Columbia’s research building.

Thursday is her last day and she has already packed up most of her room. It takes a few minutes for her to catch her breath and her voice warbles when she does so, but through it all she is still able to express, even while explaining that she can’t find the right words, how immensely thankful she is for this program. Elle, who will be moving out of our room and into Jeanette’s single bedroom once shes gone, puts her hand on Jeanettes shoulder. No one can say that bonds haven’t been made here.

Once Elle leaves I will be figuring out cohabitation with a new roommate for about 6 days or so, until Carrina goes home as well. At that point I will be moving into the twin of Elle’s new room. The two bedrooms are smaller than the doubles but have more than enough space for one person. Once I move Elle will be in the room next door and we will be sharing the bathroom that links the suites together.

I definitely got lucky having my awesome roomie...

Its going to be a bit hard losing her as a roommate since we have grown so accustomed to each other and work in a balance of quirks and moods but at least I’ll be getting my own place in the end. It will be nice to have that extra privacy and she’ll still, at least, be near by for the occasional late night chat.

When I first got here, if I had been asked, I would have probably voted Elle as the person I would be least likely to really become friends with. She was very quiet and seemed to regard me with, what I thought at the time was, contempt. I read her silence as though I was an annoyance to her. Something like a gnat on a balmy summer night. As it turned out that was just me though, my mind jumping to assumption, thinking that whatever anyone’s problem is it must have something to do with me. Elle has a quality of neatness that is consistent with OCD. The compulsion to organize and color-coordinate her perfectly folded laundry is the same one that insists she eats things in a certain order and doesn’t allow her to pick up food with her hands. Recently she has been doing much better at mealtimes but, when I first met her, it was these issues of her own plaguing her that caused my misguided interpretation.

At the age of 29 Elle is the proud head manager of a large clothing store. Its a chain store and her branch is located in Seattle where she lives with her Shih tzu puppy, Sisko. Born in Guatemala and adopted into the US as a baby she has lived in Washington most of her life. She stands at least 4 inches taller than me and has an amazing fashion sense that i have found completely suits her the more I get to know her. She is a lesbian and constantly gels her short black hair into various styles of mohawk-esque spikiness but her clothes are more femenine than the items I have hanging in my own closet. She pays pique attention to picking outfits and matching jewelry, somehow wearing whatever the choice comes to for the day with comfort and grace.

A roommate classic.

She is unique. Its something about the way she carries herself in front of others. There is a strength and determination of almost stoic relentlessness behind her dark eyes and yet, when she opens up, shes got a beautiful laugh and an astounding singing voice. I like our late night talks and I’m glad she feels she can confide in me. It just goes to show that sometimes the people you least expect can make the biggest difference.

100% backfire (part II)

The general consensus the group had of the NBC tour itself was that it didn’t lack in room for improvement. At only an hour and 15 minutes in total length it seemed on one hand to be rushed but on the other hand lacking in anything beyond mildly interesting. When we walked into the bottom floor of the skyscraper for our time slotted tour the room we entered would turn out to be the most colorful and eye-catching that we would see that day. It was the over-priced gift shop. After passing through without hesitation we climbed a short spiral staircase whose bordering wall was checkerboarded with screens airing Saturday Night Live skits. Even with no sound the image of Will Farrell in a blond bob wig proved somehow to be just as humorous as it played in view no matter which way you turned your head.

After that we got in line. It was a tight cramped line that seemed to get hotter under the low ceiling lamps by the minute as we waited for just about a half hour. In the meantime we were given clear plastic pass-pockets that went around our necks and held our tour tickets. On one side of the skinny hallway was a wall of glossy photos framed and sporting different celebrities and their signatures, most of whom I didn’t recognize. On the opposite wall glass cases flaunted just a small portion of the NBC memorabilia that was positioned throughout the building.

Eventually the tour got underway and we were led into a small theater for a viewing of “NBC Studios – A Brief History” that lasted about 20 minutes. Subsequently we were subjected to the bizarrely spastic greetings from the two studio interns leading the tour. after embarking on our journey into the depths of the building the 25 of us were piled in and out of the elevators as we saw an empty news studio, the studio that was home to Jimmy Kimmell’s late night show, and a collapsible studio for on of NBC’s sports shows. All of these were fairly dark and none were in use at the time of our appearance so it was described to us what might have been playing on the many TV screens had people actually been at work.

The rest of the time was spent wandering around and looking at various NBC artifacts and memorabilia. There was the varying progression of the peacock logo, a video demo of the SNL make-up team hard at work, and a mock news and weather report involving volunteers from our group. Then, all of a sudden, the tour was over and we were being asked for our plastic necklaces back. The getting off the unit part of it had been fun but, with my disintegrating mood and the lackluster activity, I found myself wishing I had stayed back that day. NBC was an experience and thats really all I can say about that.

We wound up leaving the studio about an hour ahead of schedule. Four of our group split from us to head off around the city for wherever their various dinner passes were to take them and the rest of us meandered our way back to the subway station. With some time to kill Talia spontaneously took us into a Starbucks along the way to get drinks and relax a little. I stood next to her in line, wallowing in the still undiluted emotions of earlier, when I suddenly had an idea. Turning to Talia I told her that I had been completely beating myself up for the issue with the sandwich. We talked for a minute about how proud I had been of myself for constantly doing 100%. She said she had been too and I ultimately wound up posing a question.

I asked Talia if there was any way I could make up for the uneaten peanut butter and jelly. To my surprise, and extreme thankfulness, she said “yes”. After some deliberation I wound up with a hummus snack plate involving a pita, hummus dip, chicken, and some miscellaneous veggies. Almost as though trying to do it before Talia changed her mind I gobbled up the over-priced mini meal. Talia and the others finished their coffees and sodas and we left to catch the train.

I know talking to Talia and coming up with an alternate plan was the right thing to do. Almost instantly after taking the last bite of pita I felt 10 times better. It was like i was allowed to feel pride in myself again. I felt, in a way, redeemed. Looking back on the whole thing now I can clearly see the challenge in it and am happy with how I handled the situation in the end. I’m not looking forward to more issues like that one but, at least, now I feel more confident in knowing what I will need to do.