Numbers Don’t Count

There is proof, again, that weight is just another number. What it comes down to is the balancing out of how we really feel within ourselves. That doesn’t mean we have to always feel good and it doesn’t mean that we have to always like what we see in the mirror. All it means is that we can’t let our self-images revolve around a couple of little digits. The value we need to find is one that cannot be defined in numbers. They, in reality, are obsolete and the last few days have really highlighted that fact for me.

Ever since I reached my 90%, and eliminated the 2 Ensure Pluses, I have stuck relatively close to that number. Some days I’ll go up a quarter to a half a pound only to find that the next time I am weighed I have lost it again. Overall I have been more comfortable in my body as of late since I got here in July. This past Wednesday, however, added a little more perspective. When you have reached your 90% but then drop below it you have to be under it two consecutive weight days in order to catch any consequences. On this last Monday I checked in at a half a pound above the magic 90 which has been normal for me recently. Wednesday, just two days later, neither the nurse weighing me nor I could believe our eyes when I stepped on the scale – I had apparently lost 5 whole pounds!

I have no idea how that happened and, although I’m generally in tune to my body enough to be able to feel if I have lost or gained, I felt the same as I had on Monday. We blinked at the scale, blinked at each other, I got off, and we tried again just in case it was a fluke, but wound up with the same result. It was written in the book and I signed my name next to it as usual to show that we both saw the same thing on the scale and then I went on to worry about whether or not my passes would be revoked due to the loss. Thankfully, since that was only the first time, nothing was affected, but I was warned that if on Friday it happened again I would not be able to use the passes I had written up for the weekend. Not only that but both the Ensures would be added back into my schedule.

Now, this weekend is the only weekend out of my whole stay here that I have a visitor. My mom was able to come up the coast from Virginia for two nights and we had lots of plan for the short time she would be here. It would be a real shame if, for any reason, I wasn’t able to leave the center.

I was anxious when I got up on Friday – fuzzy with anticipation. It turned out though that I actually had nothing to worry about. Just as I had inexplicably lost the 5 pounds two days earlier, I managed to gain that plus another 1 and 1/2 back. Now, through all this neither my diet nor my activity level has changed in any way that could be described as more than minor, and yet the scale seems to have a mind of its own. For as surprised as I was, yet again, at the numbers I was even more surprised at how comfortable I felt in my skin even knowing the amounts. Just as I hadn’t felt any different the day that I had lost weight, I didn’t feel any different this day that it jumped either.

So, in the end, I got to keep all my weekend passes. I really don’t fee like I have anything to complain about through all this. I just goes to show that the numbers don’t have to make sense. They don’t have to rule your life or even just ruin your day unless you let them. Today is Saturday and I feel just as good today as I have the whole rest of the week…and I thnk thats good enough to rely on.

Do Not Cross

There is this thing called the “Buffer Zone” that has infiltrated the morale of the unit. The phrase gets tossed around casually, almost with and air of laughter, but its not what it seems. In actuality that one combination of two little words holds more weight (literally and figuratively) than one would ever deem possible upon first hearing them.

The term “Buffer Zone” can make or break you if you let it. What it refers to is the 4 pound difference between when you hit your 90% and when the team comes to the group decision to start reducing the 3,000 calorie daily intake. At this point the Ensures are already gone. Out of the two prescribed per diem they take the first off the schedule when you get to your 90% the second time, the same day they grace you with the holy passes, and the second Ensure goes the following weight day. All of this, the Ensures, the buffer zone, passes; it all pertains to the most important stage of the recovery process – the weight maintenance phase.

My problem with the buffer zone is that people here seem to give it an immense amount of power over them. Its a cause for over-analysis with eventual freak out potential. We all feel at least a minute amount of hesitance as we approach our 90%s because its the universal do not cross line for gaining here. In truth though, what so many people often fail to recognize, is that even at our 90% we are still not 100%. We are still considered underweight according to the standards set by our heights and ages. Even within the 4 pound buffer zone, above our 90%s, we are still not at our ideal body weights yet, in many people’s minds, it seems to become a glass ceiling. Elle was one such thinker. There were more than a few weight days before her final departure that prompted the morning to begin in tears. I know that its hard to see the scale numbers rise. I’m not at all trying to say its easy, even for me. Its just putting that name, that label, to it turns it into a boundary. Would it really be that bad to go above the buffer though? If any of us leave here believing that we have limits to our recovery process we are just going to damage our chances for success.

My view of it all is that I remember, very clearly, that only a handful of years ago I was right below the middle of my normal weight range and I felt really good about myself. I was 123, a good 10 pounds above my 90, and I was happy. Sure I had problems but they weren’t about my looks. It was only later, when I realized I couldn’t control some of my problems, that insecurity translated itself into an eating disorder. I guess what I’m saying is that I just don’t want to go there. Its for my own safety. If my mind lets the standard get set to a lower bar I won’t get through this.

Self protection is a must right now.

The Slow Climb

Okay. I am officially frustrated with my weights. Not because they are going up but because, despite my best efforts, the gaining process has slowed to the speed of one of those living statues that are seen all over Europe. You know, those people whose movements are so fractionally minute that you can’t tell they have done anything at all unless you leave and don’t come back for a few hours. That is what my metabolism is doing to me at this point. Still, each meal, every single time, I’m eating 100%. Beyond that I have not only drank my 2 daily Ensures but I have also taken the one additional PRN Ensure for the last 5 days. Its almost like the more I give my body the more it uses.

I know that for many anorexics those last 5-10 pounds needed to reach a healthy weight can be the hardest to put on. I have heard that many times, and part of me is very glad to see my body complying to the laws of reality, but I’m so close. My next goal is reaching my 85% and, right now, I am 3/4 of a pound away. At 85% I will be able to go out with Sally’s lunch group on Wednesdays and do shopping for cooking group along with various other things. I think most on my mind though, what I’m most anticipating, is the upcoming level change that 85% brings.

Level 4b, the ‘b’ standing for ‘building’, is the next step. Its not much really. All it means is that I will get to go out and walk around without a staff members accompaniment so long as I stay inside the institution. There are a couple of things this allows, such as being able to visit the fresh air park when I want, the invitation to explore the building’s multiple floors, and the freedom to hang out in the cafe with its beautiful view of the Hudson. Its hard to find alone time on the unit these days and I think that, too, just being able to get away for a few minutes will make a big difference. With so many new patients, their emotions running amok, still trying to get settled in, its pretty hectic around here lately.

Originally I had wanted to reach my 90% by now but I can see that thats going to take longer than I expected. I would have thought, if someone had asked when I first got here, that I would have been more adverse to the gain as I watched the scale rise. Its a daily surprise each morning when I find that I’m actually relatively comfortable with my body and am actively trying to gain more. I don’t want to say its easy because its not. At all. It takes more work than is explainable to someone who hasn’t actually gone through the recovery process themselves.

The reason I had wanted to be at my 90% by now is because all the patients that I have known since I got here are now getting ready to leave. Elle, Benji, Laura, all 3 are going home within the next 2 weeks and I’ll be the patient who has been here the longest. I wanted the level 4a change that came with my 90% so I could start going out on passes with my friends, even just a few, before they left. Well, things are what they are. As much as I may feel somewhat stagnant at this point in the program I know my body is smart. It will get there when it needs to.

It will be good to go on passes when I am able. I know that thats the next thing I am going to need to practice with – picking my own meals out of a lot more diversity and not being held so accountable for my actions. I know its going to be though, too, and I want as much time as possible before going home. I think I’ll just chalk up this whole snail’s pace of progress as a practice in patience. Yeah, theres meaning behind everything.

Clickety clack

The scale clicks as one of the nurses moves the little weights around. It takes a minute to get it right. The final verdict has to be perfect, safe, and secure. There can not be room for error. It’s an important process and, after a few minutes, Tiffany emerges from the exam room and holds the door for me to take her place.

I rise from my sitting position on the hallway floor and get a couple of “good luck” comments from Amy, Elle, Benji, and Laura who are next in the queue. Today is the day that I am aiming to meet my 75% of ideal body weight goal. If I can do this I can move up to level three and assume all the privileges that come along with it. There is the ability to go on staff-accompanied outings to pretty much wherever they are willing to take us. There is the emergence of new activities on the schedule that I wasn’t eligible for below 75%. These include some of the more physical things like going to the gym for a game of badminton on Sunday, participating in the yoga group thats held twice a week, and going food shopping off the unit in preparation for coffee klatch. At 75% there is also the cooking group that is immediately followed by a lunch in which we dine on what we have cooked. There is now the Wednesday lunch group in where the unit’s dietician, Sally, takes a few of us out to lunch at one of the many nearby restaurants or delis. Then, at 75%, there is the group that has been my aim for a while now – Menu Planning.

Finally I will get to decide from, limited mind you, list of meal options for each week. I have been here long enough to go through the rotation and try everything they have to offer, for better or worse, and now I can have more say over the composition of the meals I am consuming. I consider this with a slight smile bringing light to my still sleepy 6 am face as I enter the exam room.

The heavy door closes behind me and i start to get undressed. Its just me and today’s nurse in there and she is busy updating and organizing the charts on her clipboard while I lay each article of clothing on the counter as it comes off. The room is not as chilly on my bare skin today and I am thankful for that. I am down to the one thing we get weighed in, my underwear, and she follows me into the tiny bathroom where the scale stands tall and intimidating. The authority this hunk of metal takes on is almost eerie; its extreme influence unnerving.

I am used to the nurses doing double and triple takes when they first see me undressed. At first glance it almost looks like I am still clothed due to all of my tattoos but this nurse has been through weights with me before. It’s not new to her. I step up onto the scale’s platform with determination, feeling the rough non-slip surface beneath my bare feet.  The nurse slides the bottom weight around, first to the 100 which proves too much, and then back down to the 50 pound mark. The upper, smaller weight takes a little longer to adjust, a bit more back and forth. I watch the needle on the side do it’s slow shimmy.

Finally, with one reassuring glance at the exact numbers, I get my answer. In the last 48 hours I have gained the one pound needed to hit my 75% goal. Its just the first of many accomplishments in this arena and I can’t wait to see what is behind the new doors it will open for me. I dress again and head back to my bedroom giving the others in the hallway a thumbs-up as I go.