No Longer a Patient--Aftershocks, Heartstrings and Playing with Food

This is the first day for almost ten weeks that I'm not in treatment. Today is many other things too, but it's hard for me not to see it mostly in terms of that milestone--except for the fact that it's also the day I head over to PLU for my MFA program residency! How's that for a transition? From Foie Gras Farm to Sandwich Academy direct to my beloved MFA program...


I confess, although I've been eagerly counting the days until the squeezing of this constricting experience plunge me into the light and sound and freedom of regular existence, I have some apprehension as well. When I arrived here, straight from the desert isolation of Foie Gras Farm, it was like emerging into the light after being down a mine. Streets with cars driving them, buildings, the experience of going into a store, a new program organization to get the hang of--all these were overwhelming. But even here, we're not quite on the loose, and I suspect that being on my own cognizance around food, medication compliance, and various other issues, will offer some similar overwhelm if only to a lesser degree. And that's without the glad ecstatic overwhelm of being at Residency.


Add to the ambivalence the fact that, as always, it's the people that make the program. Because we had evenings and weekends free, and many people went home at those times, we didn't get quite as intensely close as at Foie Gras Farm, where we were all squished up against each other 24/7. But for those of us out-of-towners who stayed at the Annex, there was the opportunity to get to know one another better, and there were a couple of wonderful people I got to share space with there, with whom I'm looking forward to continuing friendship, and whom I'll be missing right in my heart these next days.


Am I ready to be out on my own cognizance? I hope so. I certainly have 'treatment fatigue.' There's little danger that I'll fail to take my meds, because I don't want to be crazy at the Residency and it would be a bad time to play doctor. The food? Granted that's always a challenge for me in this kind of situation, my intention is to take better care of myself in that area, including smarter shopping later today in preparation. My metabolism is chugging along right now, so there's no way I'll go back to my previous patterns.


Just a couple random thoughts about the food thing. I haven't been very forthcoming in my descriptions of what went on in the institutions where I've spent basically my whole summer, partly because there are some folks who read this that might draw adverse conclusions from what I say. However, there are going to be communal meals at the Residency, so let me say something about the associations there. The hardwood floors and black tables at the Sandwich Academy represent excellent planning, as both of them make any of the throwing food on the floor/trying to hide it on the table-type efforts instantly obvious and thus futile. On my first day, there was such a mess all around me, very obviously around me, not blending into anything--just embarrassing. However, those hardwood floors are also an excellent acoustic device for amplifying the clomp-clomp-clomp of feet in heels as the 'meal monitor' patrols the tables, alert to pounce on someone to correct their behavior. Behaviors deemed worthy of correction were not only things like hiding nuts in your leggings or attempting to purloin plastic cutlery with ill intent; there was also a strong emphasis on 'normalizing' food behavior, both choice of food and how it was eaten.


So, don't eat that with silverware; eat that with silverware; don't eat the bits that fell out of your sandwich--eat the sandwich first; no, you can't eat that open-face, you have to put the whole thing together, even though gluten free bread doesn't stay together and what's in there isn't typical sandwich fare and the whole thing's going to implode as soon as you pick it up; don't take two bites off of the spoon; don't eat that with the spoon; no, you can't have sauce with that rubbery tofu and dried-out rice: that's not normalized... Very frustrating, very stressful. There were days I'd break out in a sweat every time I heard feet clomping; times when every time someone made a move toward me, I'd jump, wondering what I'd done this time. My thought, of course, was that if their main concern was to get me to put the food inside me, they should let me do so in whatever way worked for me. Looking back, though, why was it that the person getting corrected for trying to lose excess food was also the person doing the 'wrong' things with her food? It's hard to find dignity in one's 30's and being corrected for table manners and sneakery.


Where that leaves me, going into a situation where we eat together a lot, is very self-conscious indeed. Relieved that there will be no clomping around and embarrassing correction in front of everyone; anxious as ever about seeming weird/not normalized if I bring some different food to a meal because of my allergies; worried about making sure I don't play with my food in weird ways or put weird things together; mortified to think of some of the weird ways I ate at Residency last year--one favorite lunch that I recall was salad drenched in hot sauce, covered with spirulina I'd brought from home, which stayed powdery and painted my face green because there was no dressing to damp it down. My face is red now!

Well, This is Embarrassing...How did we get here? (Fifty First Weeks)

Fifty First Weeks: this week my "fresh start" will be a move toward more transparency. Since I seem to be crashing and burning for all to see, I might as well own it and quit soft-pedaling, in hopes that my sharing from within the situation might be of help to others. This is uncharted ground, so I'm learning every step. Perhaps I'll still manage to pull a phoenix out of the ashes.

Blossoming currants. The birds always get any fruit.

I'm as thirsty as ashes

I hadn't thought anything of it until a conversation on Friday brought home to me how narrow my food choices have become in contrast (see below), but I'm drinking enough to float the Ark!

I waken parched.
First thing every morning, I drink a pint of warm lemon water with some powdered supplements in it (MSM, lysine, magnesium). Then, after working out, I make Phil's coffee, and I make myself a quart of one kind of herbal tea and a two-quart thermos of another kind. The quart jar gets topped up several times over the course of the morning. I've probably drunk a gallon by lunchtime, and continue through into the evening. I seldom have to wake up to pee at night.

Now, it's true that this has all been my pattern for many months, but I think the quart jar gets topped up more often these days, more extra tea gets brewed in the afternoons, more stevia sodas get drunk... Whenever I hike, I have problems with thirst. Never hunger.

Kudos to me, though: for the past eight days, none of this liquid has been caffeinated and I haven't taken any caffeine pills either! Small victories!

I can't eat that...but I know all about it

Over with friends on Friday, I was asked "Do you eat quinoa?"--they'd fixed it with me in mind. I thought for a moment and responded honestly, "I do eat quinoa in theory, but I only eat it at your house (or anyone else who made it with me in mind)." "It is plant in nature," said my friend--i.e. a good candidate for Ela-food, and mentioned he'd been eating more of it lately to soothe some stomach issues. Off I went, enumerating the nutritional virtues of quinoa, why it's so good for you--for him...I caught myself spouting nutritional information about different foods a couple times that evening.

Perhaps because my friend was so sweet about it, I was forcibly struck by the truth of the fact that theoretically I can eat quinoa, that I know it has nutritional benefits, but I won't eat more than a tablespoon of it at a friend's house, and will usually avoid even that. Yes, this is partly because I don't know what else got put in there, and partly because I don't like to eat heavy in the evenings, but it's mostly, as I admitted in the conversation, "too calorie dense." Same story for beans, sweet potatoes, other starches. I won't eat nuts except a little coconut or seeds except chia/hemp/flax and I can't remember when I last ate flax or hemp other than in protein powder. With the possible exception of sweet potatoes and chia/hemp/flax/coconut, these are all things I definitely feel better off without. But who am I going to be able to convince of that, when I can't eat gluten/dairy/soy/animal product to begin with?

A few months back, I was eating quinoa for breakfast--this is an old blog pic!

OK, it was less than a quarter cup of quinoa buried in turmeric-water and fruit, and OK, if I had even a teaspoon too much of that breakfast, I would spend the whole morning trying to keep it down, even after I nixed the banana, which was making me sick. So, true, I wouldn't dream of going back to quinoa for breakfast. I'm so happy not to be spending my mornings nauseous, as I did when this was breakfast, when chia pudding was breakfast (even made with one tablespoon of chia seeds), when carrot slaw with my favorite protein powder (which unfortunately makes me sick in more than minuscule quantities) was breakfast, when...you get the picture.

Nowadays, this is a more typical breakfast.

It's a few wild blackcurrants with spirulina and a whole teaspoon of molasses, with some stevia, and some psyllium to thicken the whole thing up. Maybe some fruit or dried fruit on the side. I'm using my nutritional knowledge, see, and trying to make sure I get some iron in. I don't want another iron shot after the one ten days ago--my butt hurt for almost a week! Spirulina and molasses are both great iron sources, and dark berries probably have some too. I'm pounding the nettle tea and eating nettles--sometimes the breakfast pictured above has had nettles in place of the currants.

I say this is great, I adore not being nauseous all morning. But realistically, if I go to any treatment center, they're not going to let me have that kind of breakfast! They're going to want me to have something more like the first breakfast, at least. Makes me nauseous just to contemplate. How will I manage with crappy institutional food and none of my normal superfoods--spirulina and chlorella--and supplements that keep me functioning so well?

It's a brutal paradox--I know so much about the nutritional properties of so many foods, but apparently am unable to feed myself sufficient quantities to stay out of trouble. Obviously, it's a matter of degree. Ordinarily, I do great on way less than anyone else around me. But maybe way, way, way less is too much "less"! Since the idea of going away to a treatment center is both so horrifying to me and apparently almost impossibly complicated to arrange, it troubles me that I'm apparently unable to work back up even to avoid the horror. I couldn't even explain why I can't. Hoping to find a way out. Hoping something will give before I have to deal with it that way.

Phil and I sat down this morning and brainstormed a little about how I ended up in this situation. Not surprisingly, the overwork of the past several months was a major culprit, but of course there are others. A long manic episode, the left-field caffeine addiction, some self esteem issues maybe...My mum immediately asked whether it had anything to do with the trip to Israel last November. One of my old great aunts, who hadn't seen me since I was 70 or 80lbs, greeted me delightedly with "You're fat!" Naturally, I was extremely upset... But I don't think that's the 'cause' of this situation, although I can't deny that it's crossed my mind, in Hebrew, to tell my great aunt I'm not fat anymore.

Let me know if this is too much information and you want me to return to my usual, more guarded sharing. I'll listen to any feedback I receive.
Thank you to everyone for all your friendship. My deepest thanks to those who are giving Phil support. This situation is hard on him: he's so used to being so good at helping people, and he feels helpless and frustrated.