(Mixed) Easter Blessings...

I hope you have had a very Happy Easter. It's a shame that it seems these days to be less of a religious celebration and more of an excuse for the supermarkets to throw chocolate eggs in our faces, but at least it retains a focus on quality time spent with family.

As such, I made the trip home to see my parents and brother. We didn't get up to anything exciting but shared some happy moments....but there were also inevitable times of tension.Questions starting with "If you can't go back to the PhD..." were aired frequently. I can't blame my parents for doubting that I will make it : after all, saying that I know what I am doing, then following it up with "No roast potatoes for me please" or "I'm just going to use the lounge for some Cardio HIIT training if that's OK?" doesn't really cut it, does it? And then there is my compulsion to adhere to my rigid routines (one of the hallmarks of Anorexia), both in eating and otherwise, which puts me on edge every time I am transplanted from my insular lifestyle. I am so used to being independent and able to dictate my days as I wish that it is always hard for me to be back at home.

However towards the end of my stay, I found the upset to my regimes and the feeling of being under scrutiny less grating and was able to give "family time" the sacred value it deserves...although this then made it difficult to say goodbye !

The sun shone! Enjoying a (calorie counted) treat in the garden

Over Easter I managed to carry on, more or less, with the plan I outlined in my last post. And today's weigh-in showed a "slight increase"! BUT it is not nearly going on fast enough. Meanwhile, I received some very sound advice from a lady who writes possibly the best blog on anorexia, saying that I would need a minimum of 750 calories on top of a maintenance diet (no exercise) to have a chance of making my target in time. I am starting to feel at breaking point, and this, combined with the help from my therapist this morning, has given me the confidence to change my diet plan again.
For now, exercise will still be part of it - agh! I can see you slapping your head at that! But please hear my reasons -
1. Exercise helps me to feel hungry and does make me feel better afterwards.
2. I hope to be active all my life so exercise should be a holistic part of my recovery. During my last relapse, I did have an extended time away from the gym and was then utterly clueless about how to adapt my diet when I started to work out again. Which may be why I am here now...
3.I have to train for Offa's Dyke somehow!

Be assured though that a lot more will be going in on the days I do work out. So much so, that I don't think my stomach will cope with EATING it all and I may have to go the way of liquid supplements / milkshakes. Any suggestions welcome!

Besides this, I am still exhausted from the Big Bang Fair and it was a real trial dragging my case home from the station and I had to keep stopping embarrassingly often. So my other focus at the moment is on getting more sleep and rest. I am finally starting to see the truth in my family's urges to stop taking on more commitments. I also need to work on getting to bed earlier. I do find it hard to shift my patterns forward, especially my meals - the "anorexic voice" tells me that I should only eat when I reach the required level of hunger. So it was liberating to be forced to eat dinner earlier to fit in with my parents over Easter. Now I need to carry on the habit!

Hopefully the next post will report a more refreshed and heavier me....we'll see. Thanks for reading!

Drained to exhaustion...but now it's time to start fighting

I am thoroughly Big Banged Out. Anyone who has experience with small children knows how exhausting they are but multiply that by 70,000….amazingly, I made it through to the other side of the nation's largest Science and Technology fair for young people. But what have the repercussions been?

As I mentioned in my last post, I set myself the challenge of not exercising during my stint of volunteering at the Big Bang Fair, partly because I would have to get up ridiculously early to do it, and also because I knew the work it self would be demanding. After all, you have to walk miles just to get into the NEC, never mind what goes on inside! Nevertheless, separated from my beloved spin bikes, I had expected my weight to creep up a little.

Oh the irony! Teaching people about the science of flavour perception

But there was little chance of this. Each day, I worked almost flat out from 9.30-4.00 pm, barely looking up for four hours at a time as I fought to keep up with the endless queues of children. “Lunch” was a snatched salad and a herbal tea – barely 200 calories if that. All my carefully packed snacks languished in my bag as my usual hunger cues became buried under an onslaught of adrenaline. In one sense, it was truly wonderful to become so utterly absorbed that I forgot food, forgot hunger and became briefly free from intrusive thoughts of sugary snacks or guilt about what I had consumed that day. From the view of personal fulfilment, it was a deeply rewarding experience: there is nothing quite as magical as inspiring young children with something you are passionate about! But from a personal health point of view, it was a disaster zone which should have been roped off with red tape.

Releasing a party popper in slow motion in the BBC Tent

When I returned to Sheffield on Sunday, I was so exhausted that the last stretch to my flat seemed to take forever. Several times I literally stopped dead in the street, staring blankly at my feet until I could persuade them to move again.

So I couldn’t be too surprised to see that there had been no change on the scales this morning.

Learning open heart surgery in the Live Operating Theatre

Which means that, although my only desire is to sleep, sleep, sleep - I must pick myself up and start the real challenge. I have scarcely more than two months to save my PhD. Whilst I stayed with my parents during my time at the BBF, we had several hard talks together and I was forcibly confronted with the fact that I am a continual source of worry for them, and will be until things are drastically different. I realise now that all my “plans” and “changes” so far have been based on the “rules” for healthy people. But now I know that when you are recovering from an eating disorder, all the rules go out of the window. It is no longer a case of any calories going in being used mainly for basal metabolism and any additional physical activity. On the contrary, the body is in a severe deficit with a backlog of repairs to address. I don’t know how much damage, if any, I have on the inside which is preventing me from putting on weight. But as my diet so far hasn’t worked, I have to presume that there is some.

After trawling the internet, I came across some calorie figures. One young lady described how she put on a pound a week on 2,500 calories a day, with no exercise. So for starters, I have to make sure that I am eating that amount every day at least. If I want to carry on exercising, then I will have to eat more on those days to compensate.

Who knew what you could build from newspaper?!

I start this new plan today. It will be tough: this morning I “indulged” in a spin class so I have a bit of a deficit to make up. But the push has to turn to a shove now. It’s the only way I can start to break the grip of this vile and fickle illness. And if this plan still doesn’t work….then I will have to be more drastic still and tear up my gym membership card!

I’ll let you know how this week goes…thanks for sharing it with me.

I will be writing a blog post about my Big Bang Fair experience for my other blog, Science as a Destiny if you are interested!

Banging Around back in Birmingham...

Why do I leave things to the last minute? I hate the feeling of being on an express train hurtling ever faster through the days, with the constant mantra playing through my mind Time Running Out, Time Running Out....

I now have less than two and a half months to put on a stone to make my target weight or I will lose my PhD.

Those words look so frightening... you must wonder why I don't simply GET A MOVE ON ALREADY!!! 

Please understand that back in October, I had NO idea how hard this would be or how long it would take. After all,the pervasive message in society is that it is all too easy to put on weight and that we could all do with losing a few pounds. I feel that anyone would put on weight with the amount I am eating - it's so much volume, I seem to do nothing but eat! But then there are three points which I have come to realise through family, friends and the incredible Internet community:

1. A lot of what I eat is just water and cellulose

2. I do not know how much of a backlog my body has of internal repairs to address before it can put on fat deposits.

3. Even the diet I eat now might be 'restrictive' for the exercise schedule I keep up.

With anorexia, the rules for weight gain go out of the window. All the 'wisdom' I had followed before was based on healthy people, who can say with reasonable accuracy "If I add in 500 extra calories each day on top of my normal diet, I can expect to gain half a pound a week,etc'. But in this condition, the rules go out of the window. I have seen the oft quoted figure that anorexics need 3,000 calories a day to even START gaining weight...and that is with NO EXERCISE WHATSOEVER.

Yesterday, I checked my weight again. STILL no change. 

Something in me is starting to snap. I have felt very depressed at work recently, hating myself for letting this vile, vicious little voice of negativity keep me from doing what I want, doing what I love. WHY do I listen to it??! It does not want me to be happy, it does not wish me well - it mocks me, keeping me in a job washing test tubes and cleaning up bacteria when I could be doing my own research! WHY am I so naive to think that anything good can come out of this??

Will I give up exercise? Will I chuck in another 500 calories? I have to do SOMETHING and soon...

But for this week, I am back at my parents house whilst I volunteer for the Big Bang Science Fair at the NEC. Normally, I would have got up extra early to fit in a cardio HIIT workout before a full day of work giving science demonstrations to endless kids with manic energy. But yesterday's result gave me the imepus to give myself a blanket ban on exercise during this visit. After all, the work itself is exhausting!

I need to take a serious think about what BIG change I will make when I go back to sheffield though. And it HAS TO BE DONE. Or I need to stop telling people that I am halfway through a PhD. 

Phew, one day in and I am already exhausted. But then, I have fitted countless pacemakers today....yes,the organs are real but don't worry - they are from pigs, not people!

Thanks for reading

A update on The Walk...

They do say that time passes more quickly as you get older, but spring has really caught me unawares this year so I am a little behind in planning my big challenge for the summer. But after confronting   some stark realities, I have made a difficult decision.

At 268 miles, with some of the toughest ascent in the country, I think the Penine Way may be a bit more than I can realistically take on. Besides this, the sheer length of the route would make logistics very tricky ( especially as I almost certainly wouldn't be strong enough to carry any camping gear), but the key factor for me is the weather. Whilst I don't mind ( and even expect!) a bit of rain during the British Summer, it's the wind that does it for me. My last walking weekend away ended in diasaster when we attempted a ramble in a howling gale. I literally couldn't stand up against it, and managed only ten paces at a time before being blown over into the heather. In the end, a strong gentleman had to take me by the arm and escort me most of the way home. As many parts of the Penine Way are exposed and remote, high winds would likely be quite an issue at times. Clearly, I have to get some more ballast first! As such, I won't be attempting the Penine Way this summer. But I haven't given up on my dream to walk it one day; hopefully it will be a splendid way to reconnect with the real world again after writing my thesis!

So, it's going to be Offa's Dyke instead, a 177 mile route that roughly follows the English-Welsh border. It may be a considerable drop in distance, but it still packs in 28000 foot of ascent, roughly the height of Everest. I will be starting a page soon detailing my planned stages and I have an exciting training walk lined up in the Lake District in May/June so will be posting on that soon, if only so you can avoid your holiday on the same week as it's bound to rain!

But I would like to extend an invitation now to all of you who have had the care and compassion to follow this blog to join me in walking any of the sections of the trail. If you fancy a day's ramble in the glorious  English-Welsh countryside, it would be wonderful to have your company. I'm prepared to go it alone, but I have learnt that recovery is a journey that may start with yourself, but that will ultimately involve so many people. 

Maybe in a year or two...

Meanwhile, I had a bit of worrying news last week....according to my last blood test, my blood glucose levels were abnormally low at 1.8 ( normally, it should be at least 4) . And yet I hadn't even fasted, having eaten my usual breakfast. At first I dismissed this, thinking it was a mistake but then I began to wonder....perhaps those little things that have been nagging me for a while now - feeling a bit nauseous sometimes in the mornings, my heart fluttering a bit if I get up too suddenly, feeling so tired at times that I just slump against the wall at the bottom of the stairs- perhaps these weren't simply due to lack of sleep after all. It has unnerved me as one of the conditions for my return to my PhD is that my bloods are stable. M suggested it may be because I eat a lot of fruit, and fructose can cause a spike in insulin levels. It's something I'm going to have to keep an eye on. Fingers crossed the next test will be clear.

I hope you are enjoying a restful weekend, ready for the week ahead. Thank you for reading.

This CAN'T go on....

Another rollercoaster week, flickering past with both happy highs and terrible lows...

First up - today's weight check. I was confident that I would see some progress - there had to be, with all this food I'm eating! But the scales had only moved imperceptibly, perhaps not at all. I thought I had seen a slight increase but at the clinic today my weight measurement was recorded the same as my last visit - two weeks ago. After chucking in a "colossal" amount of extra fuel....no real change.

So the problem has to be the exercise. And I find it so so hard to break the gym habit. I can manage one full day's rest a week but have struggled to make it two. The trouble is, I rationalise that "weight training isn't as hard as cardio so my weight training session counts as a rest really...". It may not even come down to a case of how much I do or don't do exactly. As I have come to believe, intense exercise puts the body into a state of "stress", as it cannot differentiate between a fierce workout in the gym and being chased by a lion. If I constantly subject my body to this treatment, without building in adequate time for recovery, how can I expect it to relax enough to start investing in laying down reserves of fat and muscle again?

It was easier to cope with when I just blindly obeyed the voice that compelled me to march to the gym every day. But now that I am aware of time running out, part of me is starting to fight it. Monday evenings are the worst - I come back from a long day at work, tired, exhausted and yearning for sleep but no, to the gym I must go for "a few weights and a bit of cardio" - and this was meant to be my rest day! I usually end up sobbing on the floor of the changing rooms until I finally give in, so spent that all I can do is go through the motions on the machines until I can finally go home, embarrassed and feeling utterly degraded.

I am fed up with feeling how pointless and futile my life is - how pointless and futile I, MYSELF, have made it. I am now at the point where I cannot even IMAGINE how it is to be free from incessantly worrying about food and whether calories in = calories out. I go to the gym and work out just so I can eat, but I don't even enjoy food anymore. I feel as though I am just putting food in my mouth for the sake of it. There is no taste anymore. Even the ice cream cone I had for supper last night (calorie counted of course!) just tasted of cardboard mush.

Last weekend, I went to see the film "He named me Malala" about the Pakistani schoolgirl who was shot by the Taliban for demanding that girls be allowed to go to school. Her courageous story put me to shame. I was seized with such a yearning to live for a cause bigger than me, to be able to selflessly dedicate my life to a cause as she has done. Oh, how can I live with myself , I with everything handed to me on a plate, in this land of opportunities - and who have retreated into a self-absorbed world of consumption?

But I still hope that my diet plan WILL have an effect in time - after all, I don't know what, if any, internal organ damage needs to be addressed before any fat deposits can go on. If there is no change come next week though, I need to make myself uncomfortable. I keep telling myself that I might feel bad for missing a gym session but I will feel a whole lot worse if I lose my PhD! In the meantime, I am going to arrange a system with the instructors at the gym so that I check in and out with them each time. That way, they can make sure I can't be tempted to keep adding more things to my workout sessions: I do what I tell them in advance I will do, then LEAVE.

Phew! With all that, I will have to post my update on the walk later on this week. But I will leave you with this picture, which I found last time I went home. I drew it during my last relapse as a reminder of those darkest nights when I would lie in bed, bone pressing on bone, yearning to sink into the oblivion of blissful sleep but knowing I would wake up with aches all over from where the mattress pressed into my frame.

I can't go there again. I WON'T.

Truth, lies, progress and...cake

Aside from one meltdown in the gym,the time since my last post has been pretty positive. It's been one week today since I introduced my 'improved diet' and when I checked my weight this morning, the scales had crept up a little...so I am finally making progress in the RIGHT direction! But I can't fool myself into thinking that everything will just follow on naturally from here, I need to keep my eye on the clock to make sure I arrive at the target on time. I only have three months left and, as the countdown shows, time is ticking away...

And how have I been coping with the changes? I have generally been managing my bigger breakfasts and lunches, even though I feel it is a lot of food - and more nutrient dense than my usual bowls of 'rabbit food'- fruit and salad. But I won't be continuing with the 'post workout recovery drinks" for purely practical reasons. At the end of the day, I have to make sure any changes are ones that I can manage over the long term and it's quite a faff to prepare these from scratch each time, as I don't have enough fridge space to keep ready made ones. Then there's the fact that I usually exercise either just before breakfast or dinner so don't feel much like a milky drink then anyway! 

A big achievement though, has been to stop calorie counting my 'after lunch treat' and base this simply on portion size, just like I used to do, rather than poring over the nutritional information on the packet with a calculator. It is so lovely to be a bit more relaxed around this 'daily indulgence' as it opens the door to spontaneity.  For instance, I've been fortunate to have one or two events on this week ( see my other blog for details-  http://scienceasadestiny.blogspot.co.uk) and it was so lovely to simply be able to help myself to one of the little brownies on the lunchtime buffet, without worrying that I couldn't work out exactly how many calories were within that gorgeously fudge interior. And it meant I could make a cake! I haven't baked anything for a long time and had forgotten how much I enjoy the creativity of putting different ingredients together. Not quite MasterChef standard but that's not really the point is it?!

A pastry-free version of Bakewell Tart - and with strawberries instead of jam! 

On the other hand, so far I haven't cut down much on the cardio but I have a long overdue session booked in with M to get my focus back on swapping some of the spinning for building myself up with the weights.

I've also been trying to get a handle on my thoughts and have been going through the CBT notes from my last relapse. When I was in Church in Sunday, it suddenly struck me that this whole illness, despite being primarily manifest to outsiders as a physical disease, has all been caused by my listening to lies inside my head. And that is not so very different to those who struggle and suffer with any addiction - gambling, spending, pornography. We listen to a voice that tells us these things will make us feel valued or better or more able to cope with things - that they will ease some part of our suffering and feelings of inadequacy. But even if they do, it is only for a short while and at their heart, they are all false: promises built on lies.

It reminded me of when Jesus was tempted by Satan, the 'Father of Lies', in the desert and how he confronted his deceit by standing on the truth: It is written...It's time I started to do the same, and base my life and actions on truths that will not change rather than false promises. In that moment , I prayed for peace and suddenly felt a blissful serenity, where I was free from worry and anxiety and negative compulsions. Since then of course, the world and its worries have returned but I have felt generally more peaceful over the past few days.

So it has been a positive month so far, apart from having to make a difficult decision. But I will save that for the next post. I hope March so far has been kind to you too.

A time to rest...

This week, I returned from a visit to my parents that was incredibly restorative, yet still challenging at times. As I stated in my previous post, I set myself the challenge of not working out at all during my stay and I'm amazed that I actually managed to achieve it, except for one, gentle, untimed run - felt more like a stroll round, compared with the hills of Sheffield! I managed to snatch a bit of much-needed rest and we did some wonderfully unexciting, wonderfully normal things together. An amble along the canal to a café. A trip to the cinema to see "Dad's Army". Even a meal at Nandos - which I enjoyed immensely, despite overdoing it on the spicy sauces and giving my weak stomach grief that night...

But it was sad how often the conversation turned to "my problem". My parents have been in this situation too many times before - watching me talk defiantly about "when I go back to do my PhD" but not seeing me make any real progress towards that aim. My Dad especially has given up on me. It fills me with shame that they cannot trust my word anymore. If your solemn promises have no integrity to them, I feel I can't be much of a person. If I can't even give them my word....what can I give them to appease their worries at this point in time?

So far, they have been right to doubt me. I was prepared to see my weight go up after my  "holiday of excessive laziness" but it didn't budge. So I still have over a stone to put on. Was I unconsciously compensating for the lack of activity by eating a little less, trimming down the higher-calorie snacks and treats? Or did my metabolism just ride the change in activity?

It's time to get moving. I have 98 days left to reach the target weight.

Fortunately, just before I went away, one of the instructors at the gym got in touch to say that she had been reading my blog and just happened to be a qualified dietician. I seized on her offer to give my diet an MOT and have been pouring over her advice ever since. Although I don't think I can implement all her recommendations all at once, I have come up with a plan to start:

1. Reintroduce TWO complete rest days a week (a rest day does NOT involve "lifting a few weights")
2. Increase breakfast by ~ 200 calories.
3. Have a milky recovery drink on the days I work out ~ 200 kcal. I tried my first home-made version today: coconut milk with a sachet of hot chocolate and a dollop of peanut butter dissolved in it...First thought: Oh WOW this tastes like REAL food! Second thought: Maybe I should use smooth, not crunchy, peanut butter next time...
4. Weigh myself each week and REVIEW THE PLAN AS NEEDED

Bunny goes for the vegetarian menu at Nandos

Seeing my parents again has reminded me that I am not just doing this for me. I have every reason to change and none to stay like this. Whilst at home, I read a fascinating article about the Japanese adventurer Yuichiro Miura, who climbed Everest aged 80 after enduring five heart operations. I think it is fitting to end this post with a few of his words:

"You need a target - however big or small - and to build your health and fitness towards it. It is not necessary to climb a mountain. It can be anything. I climbed Mount Everest three times and each time experienced a health problem for elderly people. But I could cure them because I had a goal. That gave me motivation to fight and beat my illnesses and injuries."

From The Telegraph Magazine, Saturday 2nd January 2016.

From one obsession to another...

Many people warn me that my "recovery strategy" is focused too much on covering up the symptoms of anorexia, rather than addressing the root cause. For myself, I feel that I have so little time to achieve the target to stop me losing my PhD, that weight gain HAS to be the prime focus. However, I do accept that this leaves me at the risk of my insecurities latching on to different obsessive behaviour to become the 'latest' coping mechanism.

It's easy to feel that your recovery is uniquely personal, and that your mind is a whirling tempest of emotions that others cannot possibly imagine. One of the sobering things about the internet is that it forces you to realise that there is a whole community of people out there who have experienced exactly the same feelings as you are and have trod  exactly the same path. I thought I could beat anorexia by channeling my restrictive willpower into a quest for physical prowess - I will respect my body from now on! Through hard workouts and conscious nutrition, I will turn it into a machine that can do anything! I now realise that this is a classic case of anorexia turned into orthorexia- an obsession with exercise and healthy eating. In fact, there is a very good account of the stereotypical 'phases of recovery' described here: http://letsrecover.tumblr.com/post/80466146533/recovery-levels

At the moment, I would put myself at level 5 or 6 . What's truly scary to me is that, as the author says of many levels "you can move up from here, or move down or stay here until you die". That is the choice I am facing - I know if I do not act, I can become locked into this new restrictive life with its own fears for ever.

Besides orthorexia, many recovering anorexics fall into the other extreme trap of binge- purging (bulimia). It is the fear of this happening to me which is the main reason why i cannot relax around high calorie foods: although I do allow myself my scheduled treats of chocolate and cake, I rigorously keep these within controlled calorie limits. It's also why I cannot bulk- buy such 'scary' foods, for example, a whole tub of ice cream. Who knows - I might lose control and turn into an ugly pig, stuffing myself until I was sick...

Even apparently good intentions and behaviours can become dangerous obsessions. I'd like to think I have a green conscience, and recently started reading 'The Ethical Food Bible'. This has forced me to confront a lot of issues which I do believe we should be more aware of - food miles, carbon footprints of different foods, animal welfare, fair trade... But I have noticed that it has triggered feelings which could easily spark a new obsession. I should be vegetarian - the carbon footprint of meat is unjustifiable! I must not eat foods containing Palm Oil - it's destroying the rainforest! Shame on me for not buying FairTrade bananas! And yet there are so many dilemmas - is it better to be a carnivore but eat British-only meat, rather than a vegetarian that dines on vegetables flow in from halfway across the world? Does it matter if something is not FairTrade if I buy it from a small independent rather than a supermarket? In the end, I had to conclude that the only truly 'ethical diet' would be to live on what I could grow in my back garden!

When I described these feelings to a good friend in a similar position in their recovery, she wisely advised me that I must pick my own battles. Recovery, after all should be about learning how to embrace previously restricted foods again.  When I am fully better, then I can make more refinements, based on my ethics and values.

So for now, I will concentrate on the issues that I feel most strongly about:

- I don't eat cows and rarely eat pigs.

- I try to buy my fruit and vegetables from Sheffield Indoor Market, rather than supermarkets, to support independent ( and extremely hard working!) traders

- I try to buy 'sustainable fish' ( with the MSC label if possible ) and avoid anything caught in a net - I can't bear the thought that my dinner was caught in a device which snares so much bycatch which is then discarded. Unfortunately, this means giving up mackerel ( seems you have to live on the coast to find anything line-caught) so I have stated to have pole and line caught tuna instead. 

- I will try and buy more FairTrade products, including bananas, and avoid products with Palm Oil where this is not too impossible. 

I hope my greener friends will not think these attempts too pitiful but for now, food is too much enough of an issue as it is!

Meltdown

It's been a trying week where I have felt blessed at times, but at others in the utter pits of despair.

I was fortunate to see several good friends this week (some completely unexpectedly!) and received great encouragement . Although they (and probably you too) must be frustrated at how helpless I am, I believe that their words of sense and reason are finally beginning to sink in on some level. It's as though every word of support that has been given to me is beginning to mass together, like an army mustering its forces. I have had moments of such clarity where I see the futility of my life- how sick and shallow it has become- and I feel deep shame at myself. At those times, I feel that I could be so close to being able to use that disgust and willpower to finally break free.

It happened on Wednesday, coming back from work on the tram. Cold, tired and fed up after a lonely day mostly by myself (it's half term so its quiet at the college), I suddenly felt so resentful of having to go to the gym that evening. And then it came out of the blue- why bother? Most people go home in the evening to unwind and that is perfectly acceptable. And I have to gain weight after all - with no time to lose! I am perfectly within my rights to "have a night off".

The "voice" was taken aback at this, but quickly recovered. Ah...yes, ok...it said. So you won't go to the gym tonight....then how are you going to feel when you come to eat your meal? How will I make you feel? Guilty, lazy, gross, disgusting FAT FAT FAT..."

Forty-five minutes later, I was plugging away at the Sci-fit machine before moving on to the rowing machine. But then - disaster! I strained something in my calf. It was time to move on to my treadmill hill intervals, but my calf was screaming in agony. I physically couldn't move any more. I stopped the treadmill, unable to continue and the screen swam as my eyes filled with tears.

Nonono this can't be happening, this CAN'T ...I've still got another twenty minutes to do, I can't stop, I can't go home until I've done this, I can't, can't, can't...

I started the conveyor again, but had to pull up after less than a minute. What have I done? What if I've really blown it and can't exercise tomorrow? Or for the rest of this week?!!!

I couldn't possibly continue. The best thing to do would be to stop and hope I recovered by tomorrow. But I just...couldn't...move. The voice was holding me there, urging me that I had to continue, that to stop off now would be surrender. And then I just broke down completely, falling onto the console, sobbing uncontrollably. Oh what have I become, that my life is reduced to the gym, eating and being constantly exhausted through never having enough sleep?! There are people right now fleeing persecution and wars, and THIS is what I am concerned about?!

I stood there sobbing for about ten minutes until a concerned onlooker went to get help. Not wanting to cause a fuss, I finally slipped off, did a few arm weights to "console myself" and shamefacedly crept home.

Fortunately the leg healed. I decided not to do my planned routine on the treadmill on Friday and to instead use one of the spin bikes. I had checked the timetable - there wasn't a class on so the bikes should be free. I was just finishing my weights when a group of chatting students marched up the stairs and headed for the bikes.

Oh. No.

I rushed over to the bikes but could hardly get my words out.

"What's going on - I thought there wasn't a class...?"

"It's a private session - they've been booked for a training squad. "

My chest started to close in and I began to hyperventilate. I broke down and wept, pleading with them - surely, surely, there must just be one bike free, please one little bike that's all I ask, then I can do my wretched workout and finally go home, oh please I'm so tired, I just want to go home, to sleep, please..."

No chance - they were fully booked. I was getting more and more desperate, working myself up into a panic. But I was saved - one of the girls couldn't make it. So whilst the chatting group had their class, I crouched in the midst of them, hunched over my bike, going through the routine I have drawn up for myself.

Two utter lows. Two occasions I am very ashamed of. If only I had the courage to say "You know what? My leg hurts, why not give it a rest tonight?" Or even to not go to the gym in the first place after a miserable day at work...

Things need to change. I am going home this coming week for a few days to see my parents. I want to set myself the challenge of not "working out" during that time. It would be a gift to my parents, to show them that I am truly committed to regaining my PhD, as I know my latest posts would suggest otherwise. Maybe I might try a little run or cycle to "clear my head" but no gym, no cardio, no torture machines. Just rest, and quality time together.

I've written it now so the challenge is on!

I will let you know how I get on. Wish me luck...

Drawing Battlelines

I was a bit taken aback by some of the strong reactions I received from my last post. I hope you do not think that I am trying to dramatize my life, that I get some cheap 'thrill' out of making my situation sound shocking. That is not why I write this blog. In fact, I'm always surprised to realise that people are actually reading it! Often the hurt or confusion in my mind feels so hopeless, like a solid mass pressing down on the part of me that tries to be rational, that I have to write it out to feel any release from it. .

Several people have expressed doubts that I will recover because I am "doing it for my PhD" and not for me. I realise that it does look as though I am obsessed with getting back onto my course against all costs, and not focused on becoming 'truly well'. But I would like to clarify a few things here. I KNOW that there is EVERY reason to get better and none to stay like this! For health, for vitality, for life! To get better would be to have the energy to do the things I want to do, to travel, to walk in the mountains, to love and care for my family and friends with a furious vigour! To get better would mean that I wasn't a burden and a source of worry for others, especially my mother - a thought which kills me inside. To get better is to be able to give glory to and serve the God I believe in. No one wants me to stay like this. Not even me.

But on my own, thinking only of myself, I can't act. I can't "do it for me" because I don't know what "me" is. I don't feel like a "young woman" - I always struggle to remember (and really believe!) how old I am. In my mind, I place myself in a vague miasma between my childhood and teenage years; in many respects, that is what my body is. But more than that, I don't even feel like a proper person, an entity with valid thoughts and ambitions that can be counted among others. I feel like a void, a dead space of selfish, black, self-consumed thoughts. I feel like the scum under a person's shoe. To think of all the opportunities I have which are denied to so many and look how ungrateful I am...I am nothing.

But I must have a stubborn streak, to exercise the negative self-will day by day that keeps me here. However, I can use it if I feel that something I hold dear will be taken from me. I suppose part of me takes the love of my family for granted - I know they would support me even if I fail again, though it would disappoint them naturally. If I don't make my targets though, I will lose the PhD. End of. And I can't live with myself, in any job, if I knew I had the chance to earn a doctorate, to dedicate part of my life to my own research project, but threw it all away because of an illness in my head! So in a sense, "doing it for my PhD", IS to do it for myself. This illness has taken so much from me - I need to draw a line where it cannot cross. And that line will be my PhD because the ultimatum has been set - meet the grade or lose it forever. It seems that stark choices like this are the only thing that can shock me into action. Whether I see the extra food I eat and the rest days from the gym as being the ticket back to university, the source of health and nourishment or a means to stop people worrying...what does it matter as long as I DO it? True happiness can come later, I have to get physically better first!

Yesterday, I met a wise friend who is in a similar situation to me who kindly listened to my  disjointed outpourings with great patience. We talked figures, looked over diet plans, compared tactics. I realised that I have only four months left to do what took me the best part of a year when I had to put on weight to get back to my undergraduate degree. I really don't know if I can do it. So many times in the past I have underestimated just HOW MUCH food it takes to gain weight at this level! And yet I am in aguish at the thought of even having an extra quarter of an avocado for lunch.

Because that is where I am going to start - bulking up my lunches a little. At the moment, I tend to have a big salad with a fillet of white fish or a bit of avocado. Plenty of vitamins and nutrients but not many calories! So, I am going for some "bigger hitters" - oily fish, a WHOLE avocado, maybe a bit of cheese...But I am sure it will take more than this.

I will go back to University. And when I graduate, there's going to be one epic party - and you're invited!

Is there any hope?

"Now don't be surprised when you see that you've put on weight - remember that's OK, it's part of the plan, and we have been eating TO put on weight, all those extra calories per day - you've been eating like a pig, so brace yourself, don't get upset when you see it's gone up...remember, it's for your PhD..."

This was the conversation I had with myself when I stepped on the scales this morning. It's been over two weeks since I last checked my weight and since then I have carried on eating an extra 300 calories a day on top of my normal diet. Unfortunately, I haven't been so good at managing the 'two complete rest days each week from the gym', often popping over to 'do a few weights' or a bit of cardio. It doesn't help that I live so close - I can see it from my window, after all! But I honestly had no idea what was going on with my weight in the meantime. I had quite a few episodes of stomach bloating - which made me feel enormous and convinced me that I have gained a tonne of weight. The worst day was sparked off by a packet of spicy fermented mushrooms, which I used to love to stir into spinach with a bit of ricotta cheese. Sadly, it looks as though my stomach just simply cannot handle any level of spice these days, so this meal ( along with most curries ) is off the cards now. And then on several days I was paranoid that my legs were grossly swollen - elephantine even -compared with the svelte figures around me in the gym. Possibly this was caused by a touch of oedema ( water retention ) as this has been quite a problem in the past. So, there was a strong case in my mind that I had gained a little at least.

And yet there were also subtle signs that my weight might have dropped. My skin has taken a turn for the worse - my hands are permanently cracked and bleeding, despite me carrying moisturiser everywhere. Sitting on hard surfaces has become noticeably more painful ...and I woke this morning with my hips aching just from lying in bed. I haven't experienced that since my very 'dark days' and it was a worrying sign. But nothing could have prepared me for the result.

I have lost even more weight.

And the worst part......

......a secret, shameful, hateful part of me was pleased.

So, I am now even further away from getting back to my PhD.

And what did I do today?

I went to town to do my weekly big shop, staggering back with bags of fruit, vegetables, fish - in short, very healthy but very low calorie foods for the week ahead. And later...well I had booked a place on the evening spin cycle class so I had to go didn't I? Had to go and slog it out for over an hour on the bike doing hills, sprints, power surges....

I feel trapped. If I go under six stone, I know part of me will give up. It will just seem an impossible task in too short a time. I have got nothing to lose now and EVERYTHING to fight for but I still can't seem to break the cycle! Whywywhywhy???!!!

In Touching the Void, mountaineer Joe Simpson recounts how, after breaking his leg then falling into a crevasse, he crawled down the mountainside of Siula Grande in agony over several days to return to camp. He describes how, even in the midst of unimaginable pain, an inner voice compelled him, forbidding him to rest and driving him on. I can relate to that exactly - only my voice is turned against my happiness, even my own survival. Each day it compels me to exercise, to not eat more than my allotted portion, to distract myself from the fact that things have to change.  It can't see past the short term of each day, convincing me that it is better to obey the voice and to avoid the guilt that would otherwise ensue. It deceives me in thinking that getting through this day is the only thing that matters, hiding over the fact that there is a longer term plan which I need to keep.

And I know that the short-term guilt of missing the gym one day would not AT ALL COMPARE with how I would hate myself when I am thrown out of the University for good.

I had better get to bed. It's cardio tomorrow morning....and maybe a few weights at the end of the session.

Help.

Finally it's over! The sugar challenge ends

Part of me would like to say that, after my week-long experiment of having less than 10g of refined sugar a day, I have decided to carry on treading this 'virtuous path'. But no, I'm quite ready to take the first exit point, if only to give my poor stomach a break. One thing I have learnt is that I definitely don't DO Weetabix!

I was surprised at how little I craved that absent sweet 'sugar hit', but I think that, over time, the monotony of my diet would have depressed me. I had half-hoped that, when I reintroduced my treats, I would have an enhanced sugar taste, making them taste all the sweeter...but this hasn't happened. Perhaps if I had kept it up for longer, my tastes would have changed but I don't particularly want to find out!

Yet I did notice a definite change in my energy levels. The mid-afternoon slump was greatly diminished and I felt less nauseous when my alarm jerked me out of bed each morning, after too little sleep once again.  But on the flip slide I have been generally a bit more drained and weary this week and feeling forced to go to the gym most days feels a real drudge. However I can't say for sure whether this is due to a lack of ready glucose for my muscles, chronic sleep deprivation or overdoing it...I have noticed that I am developing a problem because I don't rank a weight-training workout as highly as a cardio one. As a result, I have occasionally "just done a few weights" on a rest day, feeling that these don't really count as proper exercise. It was such a momentous change to introduce two rest days a week and my hold is beginning to slip. I know this is dangerous - once it becomes habitual to work out almost every day, it rapidly becomes almost impossible for me to tolerate a day off without feeling grossly fat and lazy.

I'm shattered - time for bed! Thanks for reading!

Feeding some of my leftover Weetabix to our new "pets" at work...

Update on the no-sugar challenge: Day 5

I'm really struggling a bit now. My stomach has decided that it definitely doesn't like Weetabix and I have spent most of today feeling bloated, which makes it difficult to know if I am actually hungry or not. I can't afford to only eat when I feel like it though, so am having to "eat by the clock". I'm looking forward to giving my innards a break when the week is up, even though there is an argument to be had in persevering for another week to see if the symptoms improve. But I'm also getting a bit fed up with the monotony and my mood has been rather flat - although whether that is due to stress, sleep deprivation or sugar craving, it's hard to tell. My legs have been aching more than usual as well - could it be that they aren't getting the usual glycogen replenishment that high-glucose foods so readily supply?

On the other hand, my sense of taste seems to have been subtly enhanced, making meals with beetroot or olives more interesting! But still can't do much about those Weetabix...

Speaking of which, I'd better go and prepare supper... Night Night

Roll on Day 7!

Update 1 on the (almost) zero added sugar challenge

Day three already! I can't quite believe how time has flown and how, so far, I haven't experienced too many withdrawal cravings for my usual daily sugar fixes. That said, it hasn't all been plain sailing...



The stomach upset I mentioned in my first post persisted through much of yesterday and I was on the verge of packing the whole experiment in, but suddenly it cleared up in the evening. Still no idea what set it off - it could have been anything from a raw pepper to a dodgy apple. And I found that my energy levels had been slightly more constant during the afternoon at work - or was that just the usual rush of adrenaline that comes from the "Friday feeling"?

A very new kind of supper for me...

I'm coping better with the Weetabix than I thought I would. Instead of making me too bloated, sometimes I actually still feel hungry afterwards! As for the almond milk, I can't detect any subtle, nutty influence - do I just have a highly unrefined palate? At the moment, the main annoyance is the sheer monotony of it all...as I haven't found many alternatives, it is going to be Weetabix every night, with fresh fruit. I have been tempted several times to sprinkle a handful of raisins or dried cranberries on top but one of the "rules" of this game is that I can't add any more dried fruit to my daily diet: although the sugars ARE natural, they are concentrated in a highly unnatural way. I'm used to being able to choose from a plethora of delightful options (which can be a problem in itself sometimes - I may write at a future stage how "food choices" often put me in a panic) but I remind myself that many people in the world get limited or even no choice when it comes to their meals and it can only do me moral good to taste their experiences.

Guess which one is my version?

But I have come up with something new tonight - my own take on a "low sugar" cheesecake! Only three ingredients - Ryvita crackers for the base, with mashed banana and cream cheese for the filling. Then pop into the freezer - simples! I can't comment on the taste yet, but at 200 calories, it is comparable to the WeightWatchers version but with less than a tenth of the amount of refined sugar: < 2g verses > 21.5g.



At the moment though, I think it's going to feel wonderful to be able to reintroduce the "sweet treats" when this challenge ends. If there are any Weetabix left, I can see them being fed to the locusts at work...

My Life...only now with no aded sugar!

Let the challenge commence! For one week, I have decided to try and kick my unhealthy “addiction” to sweet treats.

When M, my trainer, set me the “calorie counting” exercise, I was shocked to discover how the largest proportion of my daily calorie intake came from the two treats I allowed myself – one after lunch and supper before bed. I’m afraid these weren’t usually “healthy indulgences”, but more along the lines of cake, chocolate and flavoured yoghurts (all portion-controlled, of course). In fact, my “after lunch treat” was typically a higher calorie load than my “main lunch” (a box of salad with a protein). With my insatiable thirst for knowledge on all things nutrition, I have been reading a lot recently about how refined sugar has replaced fat as public enemy number one. It is almost criminal how much sugar is innocuously secreted into processed food – everything from yoghurt, pasta sauces and bread let alone the dessert aisle. There is increasing evidence that overloading our bodies with readily-available glucose, rather than the more natural complex sugars which take longer to break down and be released, promotes insulin resistance and hence diabetes and obesity.

Just some of my sugar-loaded "little indulgences"...

And once you start looking, sugar is EVERYWHERE. According to the World Health Organisation, we should aim to keep our intake of refined sugar to 25g or under each day. When I totted up the amount in my “treats”, I was often surpassing 100g a day! Surprisingly, it was often the low calorie/WeightWatchers versions that were the worst offenders. Perhaps it’s something you’d like to try – using the nutritional information on your food packets to calculate your daily “sugar load”? You may be surprised…meanwhile here are some examples:

 Galaxy Cake Bar - 13.6 g

Special K "Biscuit Moments" - only 99 calories but 6.8g sugar

Libertie Greek-Style yoghurt 100g - 13.1 g

Cadbury Caramel "Pot of Joy" 70g - 18.2 g

Rolo pudding 70g - 17.4 g

So I have set myself the challenge of seeing if, for one week, I can reduce my daily intake of refined sugar to less than 10g. This immediately puts most of my usual treats off the cards! It will be hard – these are the food treats I look forward to the most all day, the ones which are earned through those miserable hours in the gym on the spin bike and weights. But I want to see if I can, if not completely eradicate, then at least “tone down” my sweet tooth and go on with a little less sugar in my life. Perhaps my mood will be less irritable, my sleep deeper and my afternoons free of the typical sudden energy drain around 4.00 ‘ o clock?

And in with the new....

But I can’t afford to cut any calories out – so how to make up the difference? A milky drink perhaps – but even milk often has a tonne of sugar added – although I have found a good almond milk brand. Nuts, a good healthy choice, but I find too many of these upset my digestion. Cheese? Perhaps a little, but I’m nervous about the high fat content. It’s here that not eating starchy carbs (bread, rice, potato, pasta, etc.) makes things particularly awkward. So I have settled on replacing my after-lunch snack with rice crackers with mashed banana/peanut butter and as for my supper, I am going to be brave and try Weetabix with milk. Although I have struggled with cereals in the past (and porridge is a definite no-no for my innards), a friend of mine at a similar stage of recovery swears by her “cereal suppers” and I found Weetabix to be one of the easier foods to manage when I was in hospital. I’m keen to see how my body responds – will I have maddening cravings? Will I feel bloated and sick? Will I gain weight through having to eat a slightly larger volume of food?

Although I was excited to start this challenge - and invested a lot of time wandering supermarket aisles, checking labels – I’m already struggling on Day 1. Something I ate earlier upset me and now my stomach feels like an inflated balloon and I still have to force those Weetabix down. Not a good start….

….But, as they say on MasterMind, “I’ve started so I will finish”. And I will be posting updates here on how I go. Stay tuned!

First test - how did it go?

Everyone knows that you lose weight by eating less and doing more. So, coming from the opposite direction, this means I have to put more IN...especially if I'm not prepared to give up exercise.

But how much? You might wonder why I don't just tuck in with gay abandon, indulging in a super-deluxe foodie fest and cleaning out the ice-cream maker at Pizza Express? Two main reasons why I can't - over the years, my eating habits have become increasingly restricted by my rigid rules - rules that have become entrenched so deeply now that to betray them is to bring on sudden, swift, unmerciless shame and guilt. Which would be one thing if it stayed in my head, but it breaks out in an physical, squirming discomfort - awful bloated stomach, churning guts - that makes me feel fat, obese, so so greedy.... Which makes it even harder to eat, so that the cycle can only be broken by a "cleansing" period of fasting.

Then there is the fact that simply chucking a load of calories into a starved body can bring on Refeeding Syndrome - potentially lethal and the reason why severe cases of anorexia are treated in hospital or an inpatient unit. Perhaps in a future post, I will describe my own frightening experience of this.

But the weight has to go on if I want to get back to my PhD! In the end, M and I settled on adding an extra 310 calories each day on top of my existing diet - even on rest days (eek!). This was based on the conventional wisdom that an extra 500 calories each day adds up to a pound of weight gain each week. However, the optimal calorie increase to promote muscle gain over fat (which is the whole point of the weight training!) is 125 extra a day (for women). But I can't afford to go at this rate to meet my targets in time - hence we reached this compromise.

Consulting my "Nutrition Bible"

300 calories might not sound a lot.....yet many of my salad-based "main meals" often fail to add up to this. If I'm don't want to increase the volume of what I eat, I need to target the calorie-dense "big hitters". I also need to think about what works practically, in terms of fitting in with my working day. In this sense, nuts are a godsend - high in calories, yes, but also packed with the good fats that health shops rave about, besides many vital vitamins and minerals that are hard to find elsewhere.

Some other forms that 300 calories can take include:

3 Freddo bars

10 rice crackers or Ryvita

~ 50g of peanut butter

3 eggs

A "diet" ready meal (WeightWatchers or Be Good to Yourself range)

100g raisins

3 kilograms of cucumber

As I don't own a cucumber farm, I've taken to having an apple and a handful of nuts on the tram home on "work days" and a hot cross bun with a bit of cheese on non-work days (generally I don't eat bread but can make an exception when it is sweet and the calorie count is on the packet...).

When I started doing this, almost two weeks ago, I was convinced that I would see a noticeable difference the next time I stepped on the scales. Yet I got mixed reactions to my "big change". Whilst some friends congratulated me on taking such a "brave step", one of the specialists at the Medical Centre was adamant that it would take much MUCH more. And I had been surprised at how well I had managed - no bloating or feeling unbearably full. If anything, my body felt more hungry, as though I have woken a dormant creature that now prowls about inside me, anticipating the next "meal"...

If I'm getting distracted, then Mandeville brings the snack trolley along...

Today I decided that enough time had passed for any effects to start to show. Bleary-eyed at six in the morning, before eating or drinking anything, I checked my weight.

No change.

I can't believe this, even as I write this. I don't want anyone else to believe it either, as it simply can't be true. So I will check again on Thursday. I am still convinced (and bracing myself!) that I will see that the numbers have crept up. Then I can simply carry on with the plan. Yes, I just didn't leave enough time to see a difference, that's all. Simple.

But if not....back to the drawing board and - who knows? - my whole value system from exercise may be under threat. Things may have to get much more uncomfortable...

In my next post, I will also be announcing a different sort of food challenge I am taking on, one which you might like to try! Thanks for reading, may you have a blessed week to come.

A whole new "Weight-Game"...

A couple of months ago, whenever conversation turned to gym workouts and fitness routines, I would always say “Oh no, I never do anything with weights – it just looks like pure TORTURE!” So how is it that I have learnt a whole new lexicon of words – dumbbell squats, deadlifts, point of failure, eccentric contraction – and can often be found lurking in the free weights zone or on the leg press? I have finally been introduced to the gleaming silver machines which I used to simply march past on my way to spin classes and can appreciate exactly which muscles they target. My weight-training programme has begun in earnest and – to my great surprise – I have rather taken to it.

I was initially apprehensive when my trainer, M ,outlined his plans for me and he could sense my reluctance. The trouble is, I am addicted to the “Cardio-High” that I get from spinning, high intensity interval training (HIIT) and (before my hip gave up) running. I love that feeling of post-workout exertion – breath coming out in rasps, chest burning as though it had been scoured with a wire brush, legs heavy with fatigued legs....I could go home happy, confident that I had earned my food for that day. I worried that weight training wouldn’t give me the same feeling of having “worked hard” – how could I be confident that I had done enough? Would I feel guilty that I hadn't "earned" the right to eat?

I wonder why they call it a "dead-lift"?

What convinced me in the end was M’s assurance that weight training was essential to promote lean muscle gain over fat deposition as I increased the calories in my diet. After all, if I HAVE to put on weight to go back to University, I want it to the right sort! And it certainly wouldn't hurt me to have a bit more muscle, especially on my arms. During my worst years of starvation, I carried on running so my legs were spared a lot of deterioration - so my body turned to my arms as a source of protein. They dwindled away to nothing yet my wind was so warped, I couldn't even see the difference in the mirror. Even now, they remain pathetically weak. I'm fed up of being the "damsel in distress" who always needs a strong gent to help her get her bag onto the luggage rack on the train!

So two times a week, I go through my exercises under M's direction. Leg extension, rear-rows, leg curl, pull-downs, etc. Apparently, my technique is good....a shame that the weights are so pitifully low! I feel such a weed next to the "big boys"...especially when the Sheffield Eagles Rugby Squad troop in. Some of them can shift weights twice as heavy as my entire body!

On the read-row...who would have thought it?

But I can only improve and I have already managed to "up the weight" for a few exercises. Then again, I do have a long way to go before I even have a semblance of the strength of a "normal" person. And meanwhile, I have been struggling to manage a "weights-only" routine and often end up doing a bit of cardio to get a bit of "burn"...

Yet it does show that it is possible to change your mindset, even in the depths of this disease. It's a skill I will have to put in place once the weight goes on and I struggle to cope with this...

Healthy new year?

A Happy New Year to you all!

I hope you have had a very peaceful and relaxing Christmas. As I mentioned in my last post, the festive season, with its onslaught of excess, always fills me with trepidation but , on balance, I seemed to cope better with things this year than I thought I would. It was wonderful to rediscover the pleasure of social eating again with my family, with food becoming a lesser issue at each mealtime, giving way to the flow of conversation and making plans for the coming days. 

But there were challenges. I find it hard to stomach seeing others be so relaxed around food ( as they should perfectly well  be!) from the post country walk " oh go on then let's have a mince pie" to absently digging into one of the open boxes of chocolates left scattered about. Meanwhile, separated from the gym, I devised punishing Cardio HIIT routines to perform in the sitting room with the help of an interval timer on my iPad. Dragging myself through this, when no one else in the house is the least concerned about getting enough exercise in that day, does become gruelling. 

I didn't make any specific New Year resolutions: my objective is clear enough but the actions I will have to make each day to get there are likely to change throughout my recovery. But I was inspired to make a different sort of 'Christmas Tree'. No tinsel or baubles but the names of friends, family, loved ones - all the people who I know are on my side, who love me as I am ( unfathomable as that is!), who read this blog, who have sent me messages of support, who just, basically, care. You may very well be on there - I have more names to add but ran out of leaves! When the voice of anorexia is strong, making me baulk at 'putting more in' or having a day off from the gym, I will look to it as a reminder that, if I can't do it for myself, I have enough people to do it for instead! 

Since coming back to Sheffield, I have started working with M, my trainer at the gym, in earnest. The first thing he wanted me to do was to add up all the calories I consumed in a typical day to get some idea of where we were starting at. It's a bit of a faff with scales and calories charts, but as a scientist I have found it fascinating and it has become addictive! It's at times like these when I am so grateful for the requirements for food manufacturers to put so much nutritional information on their packaging! But it has also been an eye opener.... My meal plan is a little topsy turvey to say the least. The cliches about the  weight- loss lettuce diet are true : salad really doesn't have many calories in it! Some of my 'main meals' came to less than 300 kcal, less even than some of my 'snacks'! Whilst this will help me to identify key areas for improvement, there was an unfortunate consequence. I always used to have some dried dates with my breakfast but this exercise made me realise how LOADED they are in calories. At 350 kcal per 100g, they are on a par with chocolate! Since learning this, I cannot face eating them or even having them in the house. I find them so moorish, the thought of being able to help myself freely to them terrifies me. It's the same reason I can't buy ice cream in bulk, even though it is cheaper than individual portions: it gives the possibility that I can help myself to more than my allowed quota. I have tried swapping the dates for a trail mix, but this probably isn't making up the calorie difference...

A sad note to end on but at least I have a 'base plan' for moving forward. Thank you for reading this far ! I will be writing soon about my new exercise plan and getting to grips with weight training, another new learning curve for me!

I wish you all a healthy and happy new year

Christmas Wishes...

This week I weighed myself for the first time since making the 'momentous' ( for me at least ) decision to have two days away from the gym each week. I braced myself, saying that I had to expect it to have gone up, but that this would be OKAY because I had taken a deliberate step towards this, hence I was still in control. But it was still quite a few moments before I could open my eyes after stepping on the scales.

And....no change. I checked again and again but the line hadn't moved. There are several reasons why this could be the case - a bad reaction to an injection earlier in the week which gave me a mini- outbreak of flu, feeling dreadfully sick over the weekend which put me off my food.... But the short answer is, it looks like I haven't done enough. 

According to the media, it is all too easy to put on weight, but it is like a complete guessing game for me. I have forgotten just how much my body can take in and use to perform at its best, before any 'excess calories' even begin to turn to fat. The body is wonderfully flexible - if you starve it of fuel, it will slow down to compensate, the metabolism will become depressed so that you can keep 'ticking over' on a lower budget. I think of it like a fire, and the difference you see when a stack of kindling is suddenly thrown on it - the flames whoosh up and the beast becomes alive! Right now, I am more like the glowing embers left when nearly all has turned to ash. I've forgotten just how alive I could feel and don't know how much 'kindling' it willt take to get me back up to my optimal level.

The worst part of it all was that part of me was secretly pleased that I hadn't put on weight. The old pressures and guilt are still there, like rot, even though part of me wants to cry every time I go in to work at my new job, knowing it isn't my research PhD. These two opposite parts of me, tugging my resolve in different directions, are ones that I've lived with for so long that the thought of trying to untangle them and challenge the wrong one simply exhausts me.

Thank you for reading this over the festive season, when you doubtlessly have many preparations of your own to do. I hope you and all your family have a truly blessed Christmas and that you feel the Joy and wonder of the festival of Christ's Birth. You might wonder how I cope at this time with the onslaught of excess and the suggestion that we eat like kings every day. I do struggle, but I am also fascinated by it all - amazed that anyone could eat such rich food without worry, as part of a social celebration. I often glance through the Christmas food catalogues, or linger by the supermarket 'Festive Fayre' shelves - just looking at it all. But if you offered me a bowl of Christmas pudding, a platter of calorific canapés, a Yuletide eggnog.... I couldn't touch it for the sudden nausea of fear it would induce. Everything at this time of year seems to,be s loaded bombshell of untrackable calories...

So what do I want for Christmas? I'd like to be able to end each day without the conviction that, no matter what else I had 'achieved ' that day, there was still something fundamentally wrong that I hadn't addressed, that was keeping me back from where I want to be. I suppose that means I want the strength to challenge myself, to go through the pain and discomfort and reach the other side.

Merry Christmas!

Loosing the numbers game...

One of the paradoxes of anorexia is that the restrictive rules and habits  it entails are typically done day after day because the sufferer believes it is the only way to feel 'safe'. Even as these behaviours become more and more oppressive, they have to be done in order to feel anywhere near comfortable. The trouble is, life doesn't recognise this and when this delicate framework of living is struck, it doesn't just wobble, it all comes crashing down like a pack of cards. As it did to me last week...

I've mentioned before that part of my recovery had to include developing a better approach to exercise. I really do struggle with this, as I find it all too easy to let my workout schedule snowball out of control.... The trouble is, the only way to improve your fitness is to challenge yourself, and push yourself a little bit harder. So if I do a slightly more intense workout one week, I soon feel that this has to be my 'new' workout and that to revert to the original at any time would be to 'make it easy' for myself.

Similarly, I have to be disciplined about taking designated days off because if I don't do this for whatever reason one week, then it soon becomes 'normal' to not have a rest day - suddenly to go just one day without working out is  lazy and would thus be a source of guilt and shame. Oh dear...there is a reason why God ordained the Sabbath as a day of rest!

Object of my obsessions...

It seems I have a special ( if somewhat useless and self destructive) talent for turning something into an obsession. The latest one began when the Spin bikes in the gym were  upgraded . I liked the new models at first - a sleek, red and black design - but unfortunately each one now had a computer screen which informs you how many calories you are burning. At first I used to just note the total figure down out of curiosity ( I know these things aren't 100% accurate but I reasoned that, as long as the settings were the same, I could use it to compare the intensities of different workouts, and see which instructors gave the 'best value'). But this opened the door for an insidious anxiety to develop...Soon I would be disappointed if I didn't burn XXX number of calories after each session. I worked out the average number of calories I would have to burn each minute to reach this target and so would always have my eye on the dial, constantly checking, not able to lose myself with the music and rhythm of movement. If I still wasn't satisfied at the end of the session, I would carry on a bit longer, whilst the rest of the group were cooling down. And of course, the target was always moving, getting higher and higher as I became obsessed with reaching higher numbers. There was no leeway or room for error; as soon as I got on the bike, I had to start pumping away, to make the numbers start climbing...

So there I was, caught in my trap : as long as the numbers added up, I could feel safe and would be able to eat without worrying too much that day. Never mind that it made me dread my workouts and I had lost any joy there was in the sessions. And of course, something happened to throw a spanner in the works and it all came falling down...

One day I climbed aboard and just COULDN'T get the pedals to move like I used to. I couldn't get the calorie counter high enough, I wasn't going to make my target and I began to panic - if I don't make the target, then I won't have worked hard enough, I will feel guilty and lazy and how can I eat then???! I tried and tried to push the pedals faster but the numbers obstinately wouldn't budge. I broke down and burst into tears making myself completely unable to do anything, let alone an hour of climbs, sprints and intervals. Goodness knows what everyone else thought - that someone had dies perhaps. The instructor managed to calm me down but I was almost too ashamed to admit what the problem was. She understood enough though, and told me that an engineer had been servicing the bikes earlier in the week and it is likely that he tightened the resistances on all of them. 

In the end I managed to complete the session, judging how hard I was working by how much I sweated and the intensity I felt in my legs. How I used to do spin, in other words, on the old bikes.

But it's an illustration in how focused my life is on numbers ( calories, weights, times, etc) and how this is stealing any REAL feeling of being alive....I don't know if I can ever get to a state where I don't particularly care about what the numbers on the scale are as long as I feel strong and my body is able to do all that I threw at it in the course of a busy, fulfilled life. Instead, I have been given a target weight to go back to university and I am determined in my mind to not 'exceed' the target : I will do what I need to, but no more. Imagine if I actually let my body decide what was the best weight for me, and let the numbers go?

I don't know if I'm strong enough for that but this recovery at least has to involve me building a relationship with my body again, to replace a fixation on numbers.

I wonder what numbers are the bane of other people's existence?