Turning the Corner: Two Magic Potions, No More Soft-Pedaling

I've turned the corner!
- Memory: mostly back online
- Klutziness: diminished; some good predictive/evasive actions (but one big spill tonight)
- Energy: much better
- Breath: fine now

And my pen, my flagstaff, has been busy today.
All this clarity and increased energy has been helped by more calories and some quiet space, but it's--I've--received an additional quantum push from this magic potion:

Source: The Raw Food World

I've been hearing about Marine Phytoplankton and its amazing benefits for years. Plankton, whale food, tiniest plant organisms, are the ultimate, direct, bottom-of-foodchain source of those omega fatty acids for which people eat fish oil. Omega oils are so crucial for brain function (and are strongly recommended for people with things like bipolar, schizophrenia, and any depressive or psychotic tendencies). Plus, as an oceanic entity, it's going to be full of thyroid-supporting iodine and other trace minerals So, of course, this is a very expensive product! Out of my range...until recently it was on sale. Last Tuesday, I started taking just four drops with green powder in the mornings, and noticed a sharp difference by the next day. If you've ever had green juice, or wheatgrass, or one of those potions that give you a clear, ringing, bright energy that makes you feel positive and eager to engage with life, this stuff provides that feeling with an additional sense, physically felt too, of acuity in the brain.
I'm still noticing that increase in clarity and energy. Probably also helped me to step over the hurdle of these last couple days.
Holds Unbarred
I'd been panicking about the scale these last few days, distracted from what really needs to happen with the scale. That was the last holdout. I was eating more, but still backing off from my quantity-commitment, still scared to move forward. Then this morning, my therapist brought up the very real possibility I won't make the psych's ultimatum, and that she won't give me grace, and things will change very much. Up until now, I had not let myself imagine that scenario, even as I continued unable to ensure it wouldn't happen. I've been so afraid to move from where I am/was. Now I'm afraid not to get away/there soon enough.
So today, I ate more than I thought possible. (For perspective, I should confess that Phil, while very pleased, did not think it was a phenomenal amount.) I ate close to what I ate in treatment, quantity-wise; to where I'm lightheaded and it hurts. And I'll try for a night-time snack too, like I had to there. At least I can choose my food, which makes it far less unpleasant. Have some chocolate! Eat more honey (which I love, but quit eating when I quit beekeeping)! Actually eat some of those raw energy bars you always make and then stash in the freezer! 
I've got 'til Friday. Wish me luck. A birthday in the family and a packet deadline this week too. Big week!
Friends
The other 'magic potion' mentioned in the title is made of friends. Friends right here in town. Friends with whom I'm in touch via email and Skype. Friends on Facebook. Friends off the grid and out of range but still in heart connection. 
The umbilicus of gratitude.
This past Saturday, I Skyped in to a get-together of classmates from my school years in England. Most of us have known each other since age four or five, or even younger. It was so lovely to see five beautiful women in a room on the other side of the world, all so recognizable as their much younger selves, all enjoying each other and renewing shared stories now decades old.
My friend Rachel told me that her strongest association between me and food is a date with an almond in it. Yes! I was raised on those, I told her; also a pecan in a date. That's the candy my grandparents in Israel would give me, and I've offered it to my cousins' kids there now.
I Facebook posted this picture to Rachel today:

Yes, little almonds, big medjool date. You see the heart of it, though.
I ate the pecan one (!!!! first pecan in a long time) and left the almond one for Phil--sharing even when cramming=expanding, generous bigness.

Integrity Again, and Surrender (but not what you think)

Phil is in Vegas whooping it up with his grandkids. Such a good thing for both sides! He is the funnest grampa imaginable, and it must be so good for him to be held in a space of such simple adoration; to be able to have straightforward fun, lots of laughter.

I'm staying home doing my best. Enjoying the quiet time, clear, deep-cold days, the sunrises and sets, visits with friends who are accepting, gracious, topplingly kind. Working on critical papers, writing, being ok with residual messiness and my fatigue-induced apathy toward it.
After my last appointment, I'm acknowledging that even after I get out of the chasm, there'll be climbing to do.
Which brings me back to integrity.
I was well short of the 'ultimatum' goal even after chugging a gallon of liquid, and since doing that makes a person pretty sick, if it doesn't get you there anyway, seems to be less point (or, point-less). Integrity is wholeness, right? So adding a gallon, or eight pounds, to myself is adding something not truly part of my integral whole, which is just as much out of integrity as if I were to take something away from my wholeness, like if I claimed not to know Latin or Greek.
Water-loading has always seemed such an easy fix, but it's only ever "worked" "partly," and there are times it's made me sick, or simply been implausible because I've miscalculated.
Now that I've (been forced to) come clean with my doctor and therapist; now that it's clear I won't be able to make the 'ultimatum' even if I drink enough to make myself sick; even if I gain for real the safe amount of weight in the time remaining, I'm in a space of surrender. I don't mean the Twelve-Step, spiritual, beatific, state-of-grace surrender, with all chakras lit up and rainbows puffing incense. Wouldn't it be nice if I did mean that; if I had finally reached the point I've been told to aim at all these years?
No, guys. I've been besieged from the outside and ambushed from within. I'm waving the white flag. There are certain limits beyond which I'm not willing to go, certain things I'm not willing to give up, but I'm hardly in a position to bargain for terms, am I? At this point, 100% adherence is mandatory until my psych appointment next Friday, at which time we will discuss my fate. Additionally, I am to go in for a weight today, augmented only by being an afternoon weight rather than first thing morning, with no extra liquid to strain (to stain) my integrity.
Ridiculous, eh, all this focus on my weight. It's all a matter of perspective. See my little pet parsley, a tree in the sunset?

A Happy Thanksgiving to all, in integrity.

"She Looks Ten Years Older" -- Consequences, and the Bind

Although what follows is about consequences of illness/addiction, I hope it will be of interest to writers as well as people interested in healing and honesty.
Every writer learns to manage a multiplicity of points of view: to think within her own head, and within the head of someone observing her, and within the head of someone she's observing. Any person could do with this same ability. Any person who's aging, or sick, or struggling with an addiction, could do with learning this, too. People in this category are precisely the people who can maintain an unrealistic perception of ourselves (yes, I include myself) and our abilities. For example, Phil's dad fell off ladders and into creeks in his later years, because his perception of himself as all-capable physically never got updated as he became eighty-something with blown-out knees and a triple bypass; which is why my grandma, formerly super-active, is beyond bitter and frustrated at her confinement to a wheelchair.

once you're in the vortex...

So, to forestall any backsliding from me based on claims that there's nothing wrong, that everyone's making much ado about nothing, that bmi guides are arbitrary and silly and what are you talking about 'dangerous,' I'm going to lay it out there. There are consequences to the 'mandatory intervention range' prize, and I'm going to share them here--the ones I can remember (see below)--as part of holding myself accountable. 
These are things I am not willing to admit to anyone out loud. I'm admitting them not out of narcissism but a desire for clarity and completeness, and to help.
There's also a major bind, which I'll also mention.

Consequences
- Physical strength is a prime area of mistaken self-perception. I can do all my regular bodyweight exercises fairly well, so I'm just as strong as ever, right? But stepping out of my own borders, I'm having trouble opening heavy doors, or lifting 15lbs above my head, carrying big grocery bags, etc.
- Soreness, fatigue. Yes, my muscles get and stay more sore. Yes, I get really tired. And I'm not abusing stimulants as I was in the spring, so no getting around it.

- Memory loss--I'm famous for my memory, and have always been glad to rely upon it. Lately, though, I've felt like an Alzheimer's patient, between finding myself somewhere and wondering what I'm doing there, and losing a word, and not remembering what comes next in a process. All short-term memory stuff. But yesterday I cried when I couldn't remember a friend's phone number and had to look it up. OK, it's just one digit I couldn't remember, but really, phone numbers are a package deal...
- Logical awareness and balance--as in my body, so in my head. A level of meta-awareness remains, where I can hear that what I'm saying makes no sense; but my logic, usually impeccable, isn't straight at times. I stare down the depths of a conversation and see a whirlpool in a drinking straw, and am helpless to squeeze things back up. That's a good part of why I'm writing this post, as I can logic myself out of doing all kinds of things I should be doing.
- Spatial awareness and balance--my goodness, I have become the most laughable klutz. If I pick something up, it's almost a given that I'll drop it. If it's anywhere near me, I'll run into it or tip it, or bruise myself on it. Sometimes I lose my ability to touch-type, or even type the semblance of the right order of letters.
I often get lightheaded when I stand up, or bend over. When doing my signature kitchen dance (no, not "chicken dance," even though I'm mixing up my words too these days ;) ) -- normally, I'll whirl from one area to another, picking up, setting down...I've actually put my butt down more than once.

- I'm in ketosis, holy grail of Low-Carb dieters; not on purpose. Some consequences of ketosis:
  - horrible breath. Can you imagine how mortifying that is?
  - worsened hallucinations. Yes, I have them normally anyway, but more frequent, more scary; consistently in several senses (visual, auditory, tactile at least). There's actually a bit of research recommending ketogenic diets for folks with bipolar 2 but the psychotic piece is a specifically cited reason why it's not for bipolar 1's.
  - stress on the kidneys (who have already been extremely and repeatedly stressed)
  - some heart-stress-type stuff--see, I never normally go away from my doctor without chapter and verse clarity!

- Hair loss. This wasn't happening earlier this year; grounds for my claims that nothing was wrong. It's falling out like crazy now, and I have pretty long hair.

It gets into everything!
- Hypothyroid--I have this already, as a long-term consequence of this illness/addiction. I hadn't noticed until I saw a picture of myself, though, that my eyebrows are disappearing: a pretty sure sign that I'm not taking enough thyroid med for how hypo my thyroid is.
- Amenorrhea--a given, pretty much my whole life even if you don't count childhood. Pretty convenient, except that it causes estrogen dominance, and the lack of progesterone affects smooth muscle contractions (think: peristalsis) and adrenals (think: containment and resilience) and many other hormonal functions.
- Gut stuff--food allergies and sensitivities worsen; digestion and absorption less effective with impaired peristalsis; irregularity.
- Absorption issues--both of food and of necessary medications, since both brain and gut are missing what they need.
- Adrenals--shot. Jump a foot in the air at anything sudden or loud; find it hard to make on the spot decisions.
- Aging--what a painful irony after all the fruit-and-vegetable eating, all the attention to good herbs and sunshine; hey, and all the calorie restriction. That's supposed to conduce to longevity, isn't it? I've always looked young for my age. Now, I'm being told I look ten years older. I really don't know what to do with that. I've never wanted to be vain about my appearance, but my youthfulness is something I've taken for granted.
- Honorable mentions: intermittent chest pain, impaired judgment in decision making (e.g. drinking a gallon of water preparatory to weigh-in, to make things look better vis-a-vis the ultimatum. Things look very bad. People were fooled as to the quantity but not the act. Three days later, I'm finally not feeling sick from this. Or, going on a long hike without having had lunch. Or, driving while hallucinating to be somewhere I needed not to be hallucinating). Having a hard time seeing the funny side of things, which doesn't help with the extreme relationship difficulty. And more...

The Bind
"Some" of these issues will be helped by gaining "some" weight--less than they say, in my experience. Improving nutritional status is more the key However, some of the physiological issues won't be changed, although they will respond better to medication.
Even more of a bind: weight restoration doesn't deal with the underlying issues. At all. I was barely close to 'fully restored' when I left treatment this time, and I was just uncomfortable. Last time I was in treatment, I left 'fully restored,' which just led to losing a shocking amount of weight in a very short amount of time, together with other 'behaviors,' and running away from any kind of treatment for many years. When I've been at relatively 'normal' weights, my pain and discomfort with that clouded anything else that was going on to the point that it was hard to access underlying issues. I've known friends undergo exactly the same thing, so I'm not just speaking for myself here.
Based on my experience, there has to be a compromise--especially with those of us who are older. A weight range that's lower than 'standard' but still healthy. That will allow us some physiological ease, while removing enough of the 'mind panic' for therapy to actually reach. I think this would be a far more effective strategy than putting people on Zyprexa or Seroquil so that they gain weight behind their own backs and then feel betrayed in the ultimate manner.

Full disclosure and my own bind: when I left treatment, I was just at the top of the 'compromise range' I had proposed to them. Even more reason for me to walk my talk now.

Do I Look Fat? Talking and Not-Talking

I promised more on talking and not-talking in the context of illness/treatment/coming back from treatment. This post has been a little delayed by a cold/flu that's affecting my thinking, and by the arrival of winter here!

What other people do say can be frustrating or triggering. When other people don't say anything, it can lead to my perception that there is nothing to be said, based on which I can feel very lonesome, or triggered, or justified in a return to denial.
More on that in a moment. First, not-talking.
Do I Look Fat?
Yes, it's the old "Does my butt look big in this?" turned sinister. As I mentioned in my last post, no matter how far my eating and weight go south, the awareness I've gained of my words' implications is valuable--even if it came as much from more effective meds as from all that time in treatment. 
Some of the awareness is around body image and other eating disorder-related talk. The little comments about weighing less than that big dog designed to provoke remarks about my size from others. The mentions of how much I ate and consequently how awful I feel, or about how little I'm eating these days...These are games that most people with eating disorders play. They're more sinister than the near-universal "Does my butt look big?" because they're sucking well-meaning friends and loved ones into acquiescence with or anger against the eating disorder, both of which reactions give the e.d. energy. Of course, the closest loved ones hear it the most.
I was horrified when I realized I've been doing this, not constantly but occasionally-regularly, since my teens! How icky!!
I don't do it anymore. I can't say I never ever ever do it, but awareness makes abstinence so much easier. It also lets me imagine being on the receiving end of someone who talks like that. Yes I've had relationships end over it but I'd never really understood why.
I'm Going to Say that Again
Seeing the perspective of the person on the receiving end is the biggest change for me this year, and it almost always has me choose not to say something I would otherwise have said. This includes all the e.d.-related stuff above, but it also includes pretty much every aspect of how I talk. Which impacts how I'm writing also, and since it's a renewed appreciation of audience, I expect it's a positive impact.
-I no longer talk in sprawling sentences that include every possible subclause and alternate circumstance before circling back to the main point. Similarly, I ask straight questions without lots of disjuncts.
-I no longer repeat myself excessively. 
-Miraculously, most of the time I'm able to choose not to say those things that always escalate an awkward discussion into all-out conflict.
-I'm growing awareness of how I can phrase a statement or question to avoid having it imply a whole bunch of other things that may be on my mind but that I don't want on the table.
-I'm working on tone of voice.
Amazing that I've been oblivious to this my whole life. I understand that it's a bipolar thing, and I still mess up and miss sometimes. But since I bit the bullet and finally went on lithium, my eyes opened to a new dimension, like a child getting glasses and finally seeing in sharp outlines.

You Look Great!/You Look Awful--There are Other Options
The weight fluctuations of a person with an eating disorder must baffle the words of their circle of friends, even up here, where a lot can be concealed with layers of clothing. 
The trickiest part of what to say must be due to the perception that eating disorders are self-inflicted, whereas an appearance altered by, say, cancer, is the result of bona fide illness.  
Why are you doing this to yourself? The cliche, of course, being the just snap out of it attitude that can be so frustrating. I've had strangers passing me on the streets of Oakland yell comments along those lines.
Otherwise, people care, people worry, people don't know what to say (and go ask your nearest and dearest what on earth...), people blurt things out (you've gained weight!). People say one thing to you and something else to your loved one (You look great! declared by a guy who, I know, prefers skinny women, who then, out of my hearing, asked my husband why I looked so terrible),

Is there anything good that a person can say? It seems clear that comments about how someone looks or is behaving (eating/not-eating) can never have a constructive result. They either state the speaker's own denial and/or acquiesce in my (or whoever's) denial, or they are hurtful and provoke my opposition. I will admit that if I'm behaving dangerously out of mania or depression, someone ought to intervene. As far as the eating disorder appearance goes, it's good for someone to say I care about you, I'm concerned about you; I pray that you take care of yourself; Please let me know if there is a single thing I can do to help; Please call me anytime you need to. Saying something like that leaves behavior and appearance out of it and expresses care and love.

Looks like Death
All my life I've avoided or tuned out comments on the aesthetic front, whether positive or negative. Haven't taken compliments on my appearance, haven't paid great attention to the opposite. Then years ago, when things were very bad, I met up with friends to go hiking. I hadn't seen them for a while, and only one of them knew that things were 'very bad.' We hiked perhaps more gently and stopped frequently; we enjoyed seeing a troupe of llamas being let out the back of a Dodge caravan when we got back to the parking lot. The day after the hike, one of my friends, a guy, emailed to say how shocked they had been at my appearance. "It's not healthy," he wrote, "and frankly, it's not attractive either." 

Behold my first dip into the shock of juxtaposing beauty with anorexia--and yes, I was very very slow to learn that, especially given the shape of most supermodels out there. But I'll talk more about the aesthetic thing, clueless as I am, in the next post.

Frank Talk about Post-Treatment: (1) Food: A Return to the Exquisite Privateness

What happens when you get out of treatment? First of all, you don't want any special attention as a result of where you've just been; especially, you don't want to appear to be making any special efforts around food. 
Do you?
I didn't. On reflection, actually, some of my fellow travelers took pride in the prospect of showing their loved ones that they were doing things differently, better. So perhaps I just speak for myself. What I do know is that nobody wants the "Oh, you've gained weight! You look great!" comment. I've had that one a few times on previous go-rounds and it is an enforced lesson in grace.

In view of this, I was lucky: the day after I left treatment I went to our MFA residency, at which the majority didn't know me well enough to know where I'd been for the previous ten weeks and probably hadn't noticed my food oddities the year before or remembered them if they had. I left the residency to a freewheeling crazed run of travel and family stuff, during which there were far greater priorities to attend to. My friends and family, most of whom didn't see me until a month or so after I got free anyway, are dazzlingly tactful.

Additionally, I don't talk about it. Not-talking, like talking, is powerful energy.
I'm choosing to talk about it now because I suspect it may be helpful for someone else, and possibly even useful information for people who know me. For this post, I'll talk mostly about the food aspect, but in a later post I'll talk about other aspects of life affected; not least among them, not-talking in a different context.

Being on the outside is not the same as being in treatment. The only reason I state something so obvious is because when you get out of treatment, the otherness is such a shock. Even stepping down from five weeks inpatient on a campus in the middle of nowhere to a day program in a city, with streets and cars and stuff, was overwhelming to the point that I was barely coherent at first. From there to 'total freedom' was another rush of adrenaline. In theory at least, they don't let you out the door of a treatment center without a multifaceted "plan," including an individualized meal-plan (considered the foundation of all growth both metaphorical and literal (!)), a therapist, a doctor, a dietitian and, if necessary, a psychiatrist (it usually is necessary), plus scheduled appointments with each of these. There are always people who fall through the cracks and get home without any of the support system, at which time the meal-plan is down to their discretion alone. Back home is where all the restricting and other 'disordered' habits are at home too. Without some kind of serious support--with it, even--it's easy for the meal-plan to fade from consideration. Last time I got out, I didn't have support and it was a big train-wreck. This time, you've all heard me talk about how much I love my naturopath and therapist. I don't know the psychiatrist as well, but she is formidably impressive.

Within this paradigm, the meal-plan makes a lot of sense. I have to admire it, even if I kick against it. The aim is to ensure you get enough food, while also eating a variety of food and avoiding calorie-counting or other ways to marshal food into controlled units. Most places use some variation on the "exchange" system, so that you should have a prescribed number of servings of carbs, protein, fat at each meal. Different food items in various quantities can be counted as a serving size for different macronutrients. The one many of us found crazymaking was that two teaspoons of nut butter counts as a fat serving, but two tablespoons of nut butter counts as a protein! And you're not allowed to double-count any one food item; in other words, you take nut butter as your protein and you still need your serving(s) of fat. Depending on what food items you chose, you could end up with a meal hundreds of calories more or less. But that's falling back into the regimented thinking, and since the meal plan's designed with the intent that exchanges are not exactly equal, and that you should pick different items at each meal, and that those items should go together: no beans and guacamole with your oatmeal, now!--the point is to relax and recognize that if you vary enough, it all evens out.

On top of this abandon-counting-but-commit-to-variation twister, depending on our weight, some of us leave treatment with supplements on our meal-plans still.

Three cups of coconut cream and three cups of either juice or full-calorie nondairy milk on top of all that food??
Could you do that?
I don't think anyone could make me get that all in in one day outside of treatment, myself included--often enough, it didn't happen in treatment unless a lot of the solid food was 'exchanged' for yet more coconut cream. But the point is, I don't think anyone really expects me to do all that: they are professionals, they recognize it's much tougher 'on the outside.' Most importantly, they recognize this recovery thing is a process. It's not a linear progression of physical and metaphysical growth to lasting happiness and total comfort around food.

I suspect their hope for all of us is that eventually we can eat enough, not too much or too little, in an intuitive way, listening to our bodies, gradually letting go of the 'exchanges' like training wheels, and that we can love our bodies at 'normal' sizes, and be comfortable eating in any situation.

So, where am I in all this? From what I've already said, I'm sure it's pretty clear that I'm not following my meal-plan 100%. But I have wonderful care providers and they're not worried, because they understand that it's a process.
I think of the meal-plan occasionally, and it helps me to evaluate how what I've been doing instead measures up. If I think I ate too much, running what I ate by my theoretical plan helps provide a reality check. Still how you'd express some of my smoothies in terms of carb/protein/fat exchanges is a question without an answer, and these can be quite substantial smoothies.
Some things slide around. I haven't had three cups of it on any day, but the coconut cream has morphed from 'supplement on top of everything else' to 'insurance,' making sure I got at least a certain amount of nutrition down, to not having it at all, to 'insurance' again. Once it's in the mix as insurance, I find it hard not to think that that's all I should have. This is a tricky dance. Right now, I'm committed to three quarter-cups of coconut cream per day. Three quarter-cups is not three cups, but this is a process, and having the commitment in place is like creating a rung on the ladder up to the trapdoor.

Pitfalls and Trapdoors. I mentioned having fallen through some trapdoors in my previous post. Here's some of what I meant. If you feel you may be triggered, please do not read on.

First big trapdoor: going too long without a snack, after an inadequate meal, hiking, and getting low-blood-sugared to that state of stare-eyed, whirly but still able to hold a conversation. This was a trapdoor because it reminded me of that feeling, that emptiness, that exquisite privateness to which I hadn't yet returned. In treatment, I was always so full that even half that amount of food in a day was still overly filling. Getting back to that reminds me of how easy it is to be in that place, how functional I seem to myself to be when I'm like that. If I feel like I'm functional, it's easy to say no need to eat more.
Second trapdoor: restricting/bipolar one-two punch. Letting dinnertime get too late, working too hard and too fast, paying too much attention to the monsters/hallucinations, and getting to the meltdown point. That nothing was smashed, nothing bigger than a piece of paper thrown, is testament to how much better things are now.
Pitfalls: -Counting calories and doing lots of math to determine portion sizes while preparing a meal.
-Poring over recipe books like novels and either making nothing or making lots and stashing it all in the freezer.
-Telling yourself "No"..."No"..."No"...over and over because you're too hungry to focus but have decreed you cannot have a snack.
-Deciding to eat only three (or four, or whatever, plus carrots) specified foods on a particular day.
-Throwing lots of good food away by various mechanisms.
HOWEVER--throwing some food away is actually a good sign for me because of this:
Danger Sign: -Intense fascination with food that's going bad, has fallen on the floor, is about to be thrown away, etc. Learning to feel ok about eating food that isn't about to be tossed--high-grading--was one of the biggest benefits of the enforced abundance of being in treatment.

There is so much more to write, but this is already long, and has taken me so long to write because I really want to be clear and nonjudgmental and as little triggering as possible. Another post soon with some more of the benefits of being 'inside.'

Sliding Scale/Erratum, Two Months, Questions

I'm feeling full of words and lost for words. I finished and sent in my packet that was due the day after my last post. Relief followed, and hot on its heels a bunch of second-guessing, worrying that this or that piece was too long or too short or no good--all the standard stuff! Finding a way to remain in the writerly furrow and simultaneously work in the upcoming work deadlines is a deliciously acute challenge. Phil and I have been hiking the various beaches around town every day. When we first got back, that felt like good exercise and part of an obligation to spend time with Phil. Now, I'm loving the hiking and glad for the spending time with Phil part. There's a chance of snow in the forecast as early as next week.

Two months since getting out of treatment, I said. Apparently it bears repeating. There are some things to be said about it. I tell everyone and myself that I'm doing pretty well, but I've also fallen through a couple of trapdoors. I call them trapdoors, because they seem to go mostly one way--harder to crawl back up! Let's just say there's a certain degree to which I push myself that one isn't able to even approach in treatment, beyond which it's continuously easier to 'go there.' On the other hand, I'm taking my meds very consistently, which I wasn't pre-treatment with many disastrous consequences, and the positive changes brought about by that deserve a post all of their own, if it seems right to do so.

Yes, I'm very unsure about what it is right to post about at this point.

An erratum on my post about daily weigh-ins and the enormous fluctuations that seemed normal:- Turns out, those fluctuations were accented by the fact that I had the scale stashed under our tiny desk and was sliding it out between desk and chair where the floor isn't level and there's barely room for it to sit or me to stand! Since I moved its resting spot to under the fridge, whence I can slide it out and set it on a level surface, I have noted a far smaller fluctuation, although it still does fluctuate. This made me laugh at myself; also cautioned me to guard against panicking about fluctuations since the period of that wave now seems to be smaller. In some ways it makes the whole numerical tyranny seem very ridiculous.

Sliding scale is a funny play on words here, but it got me thinking about how many ways it's applicable in my current situation. 
Being fully in the groove of writing--vs--letting days go by in chores and social obligations and getting no writing in #"unmilked cow". 
Talking to no one all day--vs--talking until my throat hurts
Following my 'meal plan' 100% (have I ever?)--vs--eating almost nothing.
Allowing my appetite to emerge and embracing it--vs--still manipulating it.
Being totally uninterested in food and swearing off preparing for myself any other than the most basic (saving that exclusively for making food for others--vs--reading recipes as if they were novels (something I thought I'd entirely outgrown) and making four or five different Ela-friendly creations in a single afternoon.
Considering myself in the midst of a "process"--vs--thinking I'm out of treatment so we're all good now. 
OR--somewhere in between ??? 

How to write my blog--to change it altogether, to make some subtle changes, what to do?... 
It's essential in my life and valuable in the life of others--vs--it's narcissistic and I should channel my creative writing differently...
That's not so much a 'somewhere in between'-type situation.

This may be partly being a bipolar person, but it's surely partly just being a person, and it is a rocking backward and forward toward settling, like the ball rolling around the rim before dropping into the basket. Perhaps I'll always rock back and forth.

Am I being too indirect?

Looking for some answers, whether they agree or not. I'll take more questions too, if you have 'em.