Sunday:
Last Sunday, I woke up, walked down stairs, and drank a bottle of water with my dad on the couch as we watched "Petticoat Junction," trying to figure out what we were going to do. That Sunday, I told my parents that they could have another day where I would eat whatever they told me to. Mom had to work at Bob's that day, so Dave got to do the pickin' for most of the day. There was very little food in the house (and, believe me, if I'm saying that, our kitchen was American desolate), so we went out to eat. After driving around, not knowing where to go, we eventually decided on the Sparta downtown. We had been there before and enjoyed it, so we figured we'd go again. I had pretty much starved myself the day before because it was how I was coping with what I was about to do: that Sunday wasn't going to be just another day I gave my parents, but that Sunday was the day that I was going to give up control and start eating and getting better. The day before Sunday, though, as I ate nothing or anything of real sustenance, I told my parents that I had to do it because it was kind of like a "breaking up" with my eating disorder. I was about to do something I haven't ever done in my time of dealing with this, and that was surrendering control willingly; it was like I was saying goodbye to my eating disorder. Regardless of what it was, I basically starved myself on Saturday, leaving me ravenous on Sunday. My dad looked over the menu, trying to figure out what to order me. When the waitress asked for our order, dad did all of the ordering. First he gave his order, and then told her what I would be having: a veggie omelet (made with 4 eggs, American cheese, tomatoes, onions, squash, and zucchini), home fries, and rye toast with butter.. I demolished that food as soon as it came out, except for some of the home fries because they weren't crispy enough. As we left, I had a feeling of pride over the fact that I could eat that much food. When I eat, I eat. I'm actually pretty convinced that I could win some of those food challenges. I had that sense of pride for a good part of the day....until the guilt set in. I always feel guilt after I eat, so it wasn't anything that I wasn't used to. The only thing that kind of helped that day was the fact that I didn't choose to eat that food on my own accord, but I gave the control to my dad. None the less, there was a lot of guilt being felt. We went to my grandma's after that, and then home after that. I took a good nap when I got home. Later, Mom got home and we decided that we were going to go to Texas Roadhouse because my cousin was working that night. We invited my Papaw to celebrate his birthday, too, which was nice. We got there and saw two friends' from high school's parents, and talked to them for a few minutes until we were seated. We looked over the menu, and mom gave me options of what sounded better. I felt bad because I was interjecting things that I thought sounded good, when the point of that day was for my parents to have me eat what they (not I) wanted. My cousin came to take our order, and I left to go to the bathroom. I had to pee, but I also didn't want to know what my parents were going to order me until I got it. When I came back, I heard the remnants of my order, so I could decipher what I was getting. Mom made me a roll with butter and I ate it even though I'm not too big on them. Next came some salads, one of which I got. It was actually really good. A few minutes passed, and then came our food. I apparantly ordered the BBQ pork dinner (which was basically 4 lbs. of pulled pork with a side of applesauce and sad looking roll). When they brought it out, we all were kind of astounded at the amount of meat on the plate. My dad took some of it off, as it made me less anxious and they even thought that it was too much. I ate what was given to me and I enjoyed it. When we got home, the feelings of fullness set in and I felt it. I started burping (which is no different than usual), and mom started freaking out, thinking that she made me sick. And, honestly, I was kind of afraid too. I had heard of people dying from re-feeding syndrome, and while I didn't think that I had eaten enough to give way to death, I was afraid that I was going to get sick. Well, I may have been afraid that I had eaten too much and the guilt was talking. Mom and I then went to the grocery, where I listened to her freak out about me dying and it being her fault (I never should have brought up that re-feeding syndrome). We went home and watched TV, as I assured her every five minutes that I was okay and not dying. Around midnight, I had some buckeye frozen custard, and after that I felt horrible. Not physically, but mentally/emotionally. You see, mom had said earlier that I was going to have that custard, but after she realized that I could get sick, she didn't want to give it to me as much. But (despite my distaste for frozen custard and the whole "eating disorder" thing) I wanted it, so I reminded her of it. She hesitated, but gave me what she considered to be a "small bowl." I ate it, and it tasted good..but then I felt like poop for eating it. We went to bed, and I went to sleep feeling guilt for technically eating something that I wasn't forced to eat...
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| Basically an entire hog with some BBQ sauce and applesauce. |
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| Buckeye frozen custard, elegantly sat on a TV tray. |
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| The remnants of a veggie omelet, home fries, and rye toast. |
Monday:
It was my first day to be "out of control" on my own at home while my parents were at work. Mom wrote me a note with what to eat that day. I woke up around 11, so I texted my parents and asked them if I should eat breakfast or lunch. As I waited for a response, I read a book for school, and I waited until noon to eat anything. I didn't really follow my parent's instructions, and that led to guilt. The day went on, I had one of my prescribed snacks, and then it was dinner time. This wasn't just any dinner, though. This was the dinner where I experienced my first, real anxiety attack. Over what, you ask? A taco. It wasn' necessarily the taco that got me, and I really don't remember what it was, but I freaked and didn't eat a lot because I was freaking out. That was one of the weirdest experiences that I've ever had, and it was made worse because I had never experienced one, so I didn't know how to handle it.
Tuesday:
I went to class beginning at 8, drank coffee like I usually did, and then had some yogurt and an egg at a later point in the day. I left after my 12:45-2:05 class to pick up mom because we decided to take a quick jaunt down to Tennessee to get my stuff from school. I drove most of the way, until I had to pee so mom and I switched. She got Subway sub-sandwiches on her way to work so we wouldn't have to stop on the road. I ate the veggie sub she got, and took a little nap. We got to Cleveland around 10, and started packing the car. We hung out with some of my friends in the lounge until they went to bed, and we slept in the lounge. As we laid on the couches trying to get to sleep, I asked mom if she would help me eat the next day, and she agreed.
Wednesday:
We woke up around 7, got ready, had my room check at 9, and then stopped at Einstein Brothers. I had to get my last coffee (delicious as always), and mom get a cinnamon sugar bagel with honey butter which she's been raving about since. She suggested things for me to get but I said no. We hit the road, and she asked me as kindly as possible to eat something. I started getting very anxious and I couldn't. As mom drived, I tried to read for school. It took me two hours to read 5 small pages because I couldn't focus; I was so anxious. Around 1, I was finally hungry enough to eat, so I had mom tell me what to eat because I couldn't/didn't want to decide. We kept on driving, and when we reached the Cincinatti area, I had to pee and mom wanted me to drive. We were passing the Great Wolf Lodge, so she decided to stop there for a "potty break." It was awesome, the whole 10 minutes we were there! It made me want to stay so so bad. BUT reality checked in and we had to get back to good ol' Nerk. We left, and got home around 6. The rest of the night was chill, and that was fine because I was tried of driving.
Thursday:
I went to school at 8, and after my first class, I felt hungry so I texted my parents about what to eat. Since they aren't the same person, they told me different things which stressed me out, so I decided to wait and see what they said later. I got to my 11:10 class, and decided to have an Ensure that I brought, despite my parents telling me other things to have. I texted them to ask if it were okay if I had that, and they told me to have it. For some reason, it made me feel less anxious to drink than eat. I enjoyed it as it went down...and then the guilt kicked in. 1. I felt like I had wasted food that could go bad 2. I started freaking about calories. I felt guilty for not listening to my parents the rest of the day, and I became very depressed about it. I went to the rest of my classes, and began to feel overwhelmed by the work. Dad picked me up at the end of the day, and I was in a horrible mood. We went to the store and he listened as I talked about how I don't know what I'm doing with my life. When we got home, I had a miniscule dinner that I made because it was the way that I chose to deal with my feelings.
Friday:
I went out for coffee with my friend, Jamieson. It was a lot of fun. I love that girl! She's such a great human being, let me tell you. After that, I got home and decided that it was lunch time (especially since I had been up since 8 and hadn't eaten anything). I ate, and didn't feel anxious or guilty. The rest of the day went on, I had an apple, and then took Christian to get his hairs cut. I tried to read again for school, and got very little accomplished (to no one's surprise). Later that night, mom came home and made this artichoke heart and chicken pasta for dinner. It was really good and I didn't feel anxious about it. We watched an episode of "Downton Abbey" and had a lovely family night (without Christian, who went to a friend's).
Saturday:
Mom had to do something that morning, so she asked me to work for her at Bob Evans until she was done. I agreed and went in at 6 (5 a.m. is too early to wake up). The first couple of hours were fine because it was so slow; and then the tsunami of people began. It got packed! Food wasn't coming out quick enough and people were NOT happy. I was supposed to leave at 11 when my mom got there, but they were so busy and they made me stay. I eventually got really overwhelmed and stressed out. Mom noticed (as she was working now as well), and wanted me to leave immediately because she knew I was getting overwhelmed and I was about to have an anxiety attack. I eventually got cut around 2, and I bolted to get out of there to dad's car. We dropped Christian off at home, and then dad took me to Tim Horton's for coffee. OH! SIDENOTE: I found out in my Psychology class that people with anxiety disorders shouldn't drink caffeine, so now I'm on decaf... But I do love coffee, so I'll take that decaf. It was really nice to spend time with my dad doing something little like that. We got home, and I sat on top of my oven and ate some carrots and lettuce. Around 5:30, mom came home and we got ready to go to church. We picked Christian up from one of his friend's house, and had the pleasure of listening to him complain about having to go to church. After the service, we went out for pizza. We watched "Iron Man 3" back at home, I had a snack, and then went to bed.
Sunday:
I woke up around 10, having had a great night's rest. I ate breakfast with dad, and then decided to nap. So I just napped all day. I tried three times to do some sort of school work, and (of course) didn't get too much accomplished. So then I just napped again. We met my mom at the movie theater at 3:30 and saw "Lone Survivor." It was a really good movie, but I felt bad because I spent most of the movie thinking about how hungry I was. After the movie, we went home, and mom made dinner. I tried not to interject my opinions about food so that she could just make a meal without me being in control, but I did just a little bit. We ended up having chicken and cheese enchiladas with corn, and they were good. After that we went to the grocery, came home, I took a shower, put on my footie pajamas, and here we are now, getting sick of typing and wishing that I had taken a different route to writing this...
So what did I learn this week? My anxiety is increasing MAJORLY. I think a lot of it has to do with my giving up (or attempt at giving up) control. I learned that I don't know if I can handle school right now with the way mindset is. I have no motivation or inclination to do school work, and the thought of it stresses me out. I'm almost positive that once I start feeding myself what I need, I will have more motivation and energy and will be fine with my school work, but right now it's so hard. I learned that along with anxiety, my OCD is starting to really come out. I realized that I'm too anxious to eat, but then I feel bad about wasting food and money and I obsess over that...it's a double-edged sword. I'm really struggling right now because I have absolutely NO idea what God wants me to do with my life or where I'm going. It's starting to really get me down. Still, I have faith that God is working in me, and there is a greater good coming out of all of it. I want more out of life, and I believe that God will use my quench for life to bring Him glory. So while everything in my life seems kind of stinky right now, I still place my hope and faith in God. I'm having a hard time trusting Him, but I'm trying. I know that God loves me, and I know that I love Him. Just like Rick Astley, I know that God is "never gonna give me up, never gonna let me down, never gonna run around and desert me."
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