The Trust

Dusk is slowly rolling in and the couple of floodlights meant to illuminate the fresh air park have flickered on. We walk and chat, Benji, Laura, and I, the only ones with the ability and desire to go outside at this point, as our 8 pm snack digest. This time there is focus on the conversation. Its turned to an attempted tackling of the trust issue, specifically in regards to dietitians.

“Look, its not possible for Sally to know the exact calorie count of every food item in New York City. I think thats the point shes trying to make though, that its just not as important as we want to believe it is.” I feel like I am skirting the edges of this conversation because I really don’t want my mind to delve too much into the realm of calorie analization. Its just one of those places that I don’t feel safe letting my thoughts go to yet.

“I don’t know.” Laura states as she ambles along to my left. “Its just something I would like to be able to count on. If we are expected to make our own meals in regards to a specific calorie count then I feel like I should know so that I can do it right.”

“Are you sure thats not your eating disorder talking?” Benji, on my right, having remained thoughtfully silent, now pipes up. “We all know all too well that the eating disorder is about control and rigidity.”

“I don’t know.” Laura says again, her previous conviction wavering. “Maybe I should get a dietician for when I leave here.”

“If you do that,” says Benji, “you will have to choose to believe what they are telling you. If you are just going to question everything he or she says then there wouldn’t be a point in paying the money for sessions with one.”

“Right now I just want to be able to trust Sally and I’m not sure if I do.” Laura sighs with frustration, not at us or at the conversation, but at the delicate situation. “Once there is that ounce of doubt I can’t help my mind from just questioning everything.”

I watch the ground move beneath our feet as I try and choose my words carefully. “I think one of the main things that is the job of a dietician, when treating a person in eating disorder recovery, is to portray that it really doesn’t have to be exact. We have such a need for strict planning when it comes to our meals, and there is the idea that keeping with that but in a different way will help us to get healthy, but when it comes down to it we really don’t need all that rigidity. It doesn’t matter if its aimed at the goal of health or not. That rigidness is still part of the eating disorders control. What we need to learn and apply is intuitive eating. Our bodies know whats best for them and, if we learn to listen to what they are telling us instead of the ED, then we know we can trust them. I think its somewhat of a dietician’s job to ultimately help us to identify and really use our filters between the disorder and what our bodies are really telling us.”

Laura seems a little more at ease but its visible that her mind is still hard at work. “I mean, yeah, I know that our bodies are smart about what they need and all. I don’t know. I just want to know that I’m doing the right thing, and if Sally says something is 220 calories when its really 300 how can I trust that I am getting the calorie count I am supposed to?”

“I think thats what shes saying though,” Benji added into the mix, “Its that over all that 60, 80, 100 or even 200 calories shouldn’t matter in the long run. At the end of the day variations just don’t make a difference if you keep your generalized calorie count in mind.”

“I get the feeling that dietitians just don’t outwardly stress how much discrepancies of that nature don’t matter because, as eating disorder patients, most of us can’t deal with that lack of control over what they eat. I think thats why they add on specifics like 200 extra calories now, an extra 300 next week, an extra protein bar for a daily snack, etc.” I said, as i watched Gina rise from her bench and signal that it was time to head inside.

“I know you guys are right,” said Laura, rounding the last corner before the door. “Its all just so much easier said than done.” With that Benji and I nodded in agreement as he held the door and we filed inside.

Thought provoking

Two sentences creep their way into my head like thieves as I walk around the small yard after dinner. I don’t know how they got in and I don’t know where they came from. All I know is that they are taking something from me by even just being there. They are:

1. I don’t have any friends.

2. I have people who will forget about me as soon as I’m not around.

Soon the first two are joined by a third and possibly the most scary of the trio:  3. At least I have a daily schedule I can rely on.

I try and drive the sentences out but each time I cut one off another starts fresh. i can feel them stealing life from me.

I know they are wrong though, they have to be. There is just no way something like that could really be true…but doubt is a devious monster. I watch the ground as I walk and adjust my comfy weekend pajamaish pants so they don’t drag in the newly wet grass. Elle and Benji are playing catch again and Molly, Carrina, and Tiffany are halfway around the same loop that I’m on, chattering away. For once its not stroke-inducing hot out and Sunday winds down again as Monday prepares itself for dawn.

I know I have friends. I’m 30 and its almost ridiculous to be reassuring myself of such a basic statement. If wisdom comes with age then I would think I shouldn’t really need to be even forming those words into a sentence. Its something I know – I have friends. I also understand the meaning of the phrase “out of sight, out of mind”. Its not a hard concept to grasp and perfectly understandable with us all being human and what-not.

The guidelines for friendship are something I have had trouble defining my whole life and what I feel it comes down to is that there aren’t really any. many people have many different definitions of what a friend should be but I’ve come to realize that, for me, a definition of that word shouldn’t be made. If I were to sit down and make a list to answer the question “what is a friend?” I would be following that criteria every time I met someone new whether I was conscious of it or not. Then, inevitably, something wouldn’t fit. Anxiety would set in and I’d start stressing out about the validity of people I considered my friends and thats a hole I know I don’t want to have to try and get out of.

The scarier thing though, the one about the routine, really snuck up. I can’t help but question the subconscious validity of that statement. Is that why I’m so strict with my schedule? Is it so that I don’t have to rely on people to do what they say they will because I already have the daily structure so definitively planned out? A routine is not a replacement for a friend. Again, a basic thought. It doesn’t matter that I know I can count on it to do what its agenda says it will. Its hard to differentiate because I know I can trust the routine. I can rely on the fact that it will be there when I need it and it won’t let me down, but does that really mean that I don’t have to rely on anybody else?

People are fallible. They will make mistakes just as I do on a regular daily basis, but that does not mean that they are not deserving of trust. A lot of thought has gone into this and I think more is needed still but, for now, I have enough to work with. The sun is setting. Its time to head back inside. As I meander up the stone walk to the double doors a comforting calm sets in and I smile to myself before jogging ahead to join my friends.

Making eyes

Marley stares. She sits across from me at the lunch table with her peanut butter on wheat and just stares at me. There is no particular expression on her face and I can’t tell if she’s watching what I’m doing or just spacing out but I discomfort building within.

For us, the active consciousness of our eyes at the meal tables is out of respect. We look at each other when in conversation but, when all is quiet and we are doing our best to clean our plates in the alloted half hour, we make the effort to divert our gazes elsewhere. This is not something that would be an issue in our natural daily lives because we know that then the people around us aren’t scrutinizing our trays. Here though we know, for the most part, what is going through a person’s mind when their eyes are affixed on another’s food and eating habits. There is the inevitability of comparison, the registering of amounts, and the internal analization of any quirks or rituals that go along with our food consumption. We have all been on both sides of those situations here and knowing what a person is thinking when they watch you eat can be quite unnerving…and yet Marley continues to stare.

I have never eaten with her before and it just so happened that our trays were laid out this way this time so, although uncomfortable, I don’t say anything to her about it. Later though, while enjoying some afternoon fresh air, I bring up the subject with Laura and Benji as we sit in the sun. They reassure me that I am not the only one with this complaint.

“Just call her out on it.” Benji says with a wave of his hand. “She does it to everyone.”

“Yea, actually Tiffany called her on it this morning at breakfast and all she had to say was ‘Marley, you are making me really uncomfortable.'” added Laura.

“Yea, I saw that.” said Benji, “Good for Tiffany. When Marley was doing it to me the other day I didn’t have the guts to say anything, but I will next time.”

“What did Marley do when Tiffany said that?” I probe Laura as I shuffle my foot in a patch of grass.

“She looked embarrassed. She just muttered a ‘sorry’ and sort of hung her head.”

“Hmm…Well, if it happens again I’ll figure out what to do. its good to know though that It wasn’t just me.”

And that was that. For the time being the conflict was resolved and, mostly, forgotten about. I’m sure it won’t be the last eating habit around here that someone unnerves or annoys me with. The food rituals and subconscious quirks of eating disordered people are innumerable and greatly varied. It’s in our nature.

The big day

Biding time. Biding time. Awake at 3 am again from the pain of rolling over in the not-so-soft bed as my jutting bones make me feel much like a low-sitting table when I am laying down. Thats the only way to explain the sensation of not quite being flush with the mattress no matter what position I’m in. I am held up, hovering it seems, by my hips and elbows.

As I flipped on the light and threw the thin sheets the bruising on the outsides of both my knees and thighs glare in many purple dime-sized spots back at me. It would seems that I may have been a bit more bested in my battle with my two heavy bags than I originally thought as I ambled my way from train to Inst to hotel yesterday. At least my arms aren’t as sore as I had imagined they would be.

The community bathroom was thankfully empty so I showered, not quite sure when I would next get the chance. Curiouser and curiuoser I am wondering what the upcoming day will bring as the lukewarm water runs comfortingly down my spine. Is it a sign of situational direness that the foremost question in my mind has to do with what they will be serving for lunch? Out of all possibilities the coming day may hold this is what keeps creeping into my thoughts. It will be the first meal I will be partaking in at the Inst and I have been told that, at least for the first few weeks, options in my menu will not exist. I tried to ask what I am supposed to do if I am faced with something I just plain don’t like but the answer comes in the form of imminent repercussions if 100% my every meal on the plan is not consumed. All I can say is that hopefully they don’t serve things like cottage cheese, melon, or egg salad very often. I may be a picky eater but there isn’t too much that truly makes me gag so my best bet sounds like it will be to close my eyes and choke it down. I understand that it is all about exposure to variety and that so many of us int this state of starvation don’t know anymore what foods we actually like and dislike. So many foods fall out of our daily consumption routines for superfluous backwards reasons that, without even being aware of it, our taste buds take a backseat when it comes to ingestion.

I am determined though. That will be my first vow: I promise to at LEAST try everything that is placed in front of me. I won’t have to eat things i don’t like forever and a few weeks, until I can start choosing thing on my menu, won’t kill me. In fact the opposite – What I do in the next few weeks will be the first steps in saving my life.

Its 6:30 and there is a Starbucks down the street that seems to be calling my name. Time to break the bay and brave the crosswalks as the morning traffic thickens.