Bumps in the journey

Since the 'epiphany moment' of my last post, I'm afraid things haven't continued quite as smoothly as you might have hoped. At first things looked promising - I made a real effort to increase my calorie load and I did manage to gain some weight. And rather than planning and calorie-counting all my meals in advance, it was wonderful to do this intuitively by listening to the rhythms of my appetite and adding more when my body gave me hunger. Frustratingly, this never seems to follow any logical pattern: at times when I really ought to be hungry, I'm often not and at other times I eat a good meal only to feel even more hungry afterwards!

But then I pushed things too far by introducing foods which I know my stomach struggles to handle. Either a bowl of cereal or a pack of spicy mushrooms put my stomach out of sorts and I felt sick, miserable and bloated for days. Eating was the last thing I felt I should do and my calorie intake slipped a bit. So it looks as though curries and Wheatabix may forever be off my shopping list....

Finding out just how much a pound or two weighs in the Victorian kitchen at Charlecote Park

Fortunately it had mostly cleared up by the time I travelled back to the West Midlands on Thursday to spend the weekend with my parents. But this started disastrously when, stupefied with fatigue from sleep deprivation, I struggled to choose a meal from the Chinese takeaway menu. This really upset my parents, especially my Dad, as they saw this as proof that nothing had changed: I was still the awkward, anorexic daughter who couldn't eat a normal meal with her family. In this fraught exchange, I realised how scared they were that my positive words were only that: words and no more. I can't really blame them, after all they have watched me 'start a new chapter of my life' many times before only for me to relapse again. Quite understandably, they carry real doubt that I will succeed and make it back to my PhD on time. 

Things could have gone downhill from here, but I managed to turn it around. At least our altercation made me realise that there was NO WAY I could do any exercise at home without racking the tension up sky high. So my workout gear stayed in my bag and I didn't even set the alarm. In fact, the weekend felt horrifically lazy given the gently nature of the activities we did together; a trip the cinema, wandering round a National Trust Property, visiting neighbours. I did have some guilty thoughts ('Oh gosh, right now I would be at circuits class!') but remembering the disbelief on my parent's faces spurred me on. Even when I cheered my Dad on in the local Fun Run and was confronted with the sight of hundreds of runners, I managed to keep myself from joining in!

Apparently this is a family tradition...my Dad used to come to Henley Ice Parlour as a boy

Altogether the visit could have been better, but it could have been a lot lot worse. I wish I could stop my family, and all those who are good enough to care about me, from worrying overnight but I know there is only one way I can do this. I have to keep pressing on no matter how I feel: only when I reach my target will I have earned the right to rest. 

And time is getting critical now. Time to press on.