One of the most hurtin things…

… my dad whom I admire and respect so much can say me about recovery is: “(…) but you are not even trying. Back in 2006 you were trying hard and you achieved to be on your target weight. (…)”

I hate crying infront of my dad. It hurts him. I hate how I am actually tired of trying and not seeing any results. I hate my weight. Lower or higher, whatever. I just hate the fact it is affecting my life so much.

Two notes to self

Note to self: spend more time with kids. They are little big worlds and they enable you forgetting your troubled self, your body will relax and for a while you will be just absorbed in pure presence.

Second note to self: Drink more whine wine (whining later) with friends. You will be able to hug them without feeling your body under their arms. You will feel their body, their presence and the fact they are enjoying your company.

My favourite was Lasse (of course;)

Vocabulary of brain diseases

I’ve just learned three new Magnetic Resonance Imaging words. (About brain arteries and ventricles). They are:

• encase = uzavřít (enclose something in or as if in a case, box); noun is encasement
• encroache = neoprávněně zasáhnout, třeba do mozkové komory huh! (violently invade some teritory, for example brain ventricle); noun is encroachment
• impinge =narazit, zasáhnout, dotknout se (collide, strike, bit similar to encroache); noun is impingement

There are so many things in the world I would love to learn, know, find and be able to do! I just need the extend. Not overdoing everything. Three new words are sometimes enough.

And yes, this post is neither interesting nor much related to ED recovery. Encase, encroache, impinge- I’ve head them in context of brainstem tumor of  a 9-years-old girl.  Well. But anorexia, MRI invisible brain enemy is also able to encase you and encroache your life and impinge on your mind.

Irresolution. Student Movement. Flat City.

Lately the most troublesome and recovery = life complicating feature in my life is irresolution. It’s tiring. And sometimes even excruciating, because after every hard made decision come the good old doubts. Why can’ t I simply accept my decisions and be happy I have so many opportunities in my life?

Today it is 41th anniversary of Soviet Invasion to Czechoslowakia. My dad was in his third year of medicin, active in student movement, fighting for freedom. Neither my dad nor my mum could travel o even study abroad. Thei decision was: to stay or not to stay. To emigrate or not to emigrate.

40 years later, their daugter spend plenty of her holiday time contemplating about another kind of movement, about the fact, that her new city is absolutely FLAT (highest point about 60 meters) and she wouldn’ t be able to run and cycle her crazy uphill routes. instead of looking forward new period of her adult (cough cough) life. God, it sounds so lame. At least the decision about my university is made, now I have to face its consequences.

ED Recovery Blogosphere through the lens of newbie

Although I’ve been journaling and blogging for very long time, I am quite new to ED Recovery Blogosphere. My sister who tried to blog about her recovery as well (but ecently she has entered inpatient teatment for her anorexia) introduced me to this space (which I think helped her a bit to take this final step and let herself admit to IP) and I am glad she did.

I usually just lurk or read the blogs inconsistentely and don´t write much about my and my sis’s recovery (language and social anxiety, you know). But now I would like to express my opinion. — Recently, some Apology Posts  emerged (I don´t want to send a link, because I am not sure, if the authors were comfortable with it. Anyway thanks for inspiation). I think it is absolutely ok to write honestly and not autocensored about all ups and DOWNS. Writing a meltdown post could be very therapeutic not only fo the author, but for the readers, really! It’ s basic principle of numerous self help groups and I think the whole ED Recovery Blogosphere is kind of big selfhelpgroup and it’ s amazing! The fact we can SHARE everything we want to without being ashamed and judged makes the therapeutical work. We don’ t write any Manual for Ideal Recovery, we live it, try it, fight it, share it and eventually we can help someone. Of course it can be triggering and it can be uncomfortable (eading and accepting both blog posts and comments), but world is full of triggers and I think we have to lean how to ignore, fight or accept stuff that is triggering. YES, recovery could be terrifying, but believe me living normal real life is sometimes much more terrifying, triggering and uncomfortable. But YES, it is REAL, it is worth and full of life and opportunities and future and simply it is why we are here. So let´s live it, write about it and give support to each other! x

tension

The fact that the after-wokout-feeling and after-selfinjury-feeling seems to be very similar scares me a bit. My self injury methods never involve blood (“positive” face of OCD-ish behaviours and major fear of infections) and I don´t want to describe them here. I am tired. Already had two super cold showers which sometimes helps, my blood is crystalizing, but the tension is still present.  Trying and trying and tiring and- that´s all.  

These two eatthiscake* looks (not sure which one is dog´s look) makes me try and hope:

* live real life

just some head rounds

I know there are last few days of summer hospital rounds left when I…

…go to bed when it is light outside and wake up when it is dark.

…constantly lack my WHITE underpants and socks.

…remember all my patient´s names even though they are already at home and I want to remember another things.

…am not longer SO afraid of entering my patient´s room.

…during walking to bus I can “meet”/scare couple of rabbits in the park (I´ve seen really tiny dead rabbit-child last thursday:( on the biking path).

…think there is no better and at the same time worse idea than me being a doctor.

…have long periods when I actually don´t think about my body.

…say preventively HELLO every time I open ANY doors (my bathroom doors at home or garden gate including).

…making diagnoses in bus/tram/street/library/I even diagnose literature characters.

…realize stronger and stronger how our body/mind is strong and frail at the same time.

23.7.2000 Glass Doors

Through glass doors I am entering Childrens´Psychiatric Clinic.  I have only little backpack, I insisted on it, because I believe, that I won´t be there longer than 10 days or so. I don´t know that the door I am entering (and every door I´ve (not) entered before and I will (not) enter after) will make my life. I am not crying, feel depersonalised, like in some bad novel. I am in admitting room with a girl who looks like some vampire caricature (later I will find out her name is Thea, she´s bulimic and she has really huge heart. However in the first morning in the clinic she scares me a bit). The nurse says something about no drugs and no sex and it feels almost ironic. I am fourteen and I have difficulties with living inside my body, so that sex is probably the last thing on my to-do-list. I am watching the gothic-looking-girl washing her face and getting all her (visible) earrings and piercings out and it is pretty amazing. I wish I could just wash myself off like her, becoming someone brand new. But I can´t. I don´t have any make up, any black lipstick, any earrings, I almost don´t have any body to cover myself with. Anybody. Nobody. The red number on their professional scales. There is no sense in telling them that the dragons in my chest are so heavy, that if their machine could weigh them, it would explode. Except of it I don´t have energy for saying more words than required. In couple of hours I will have more energy in one meal than I used to have in one day.

9 years later I have sometimes this feeling that the only thing I´ve learned in the clinic was hold my breath and go through some doors which are supposed to be right for me. Unfortunately, they don´t imprint me the normal feelings in front /behind the door. Because it is not only the doors, but the space between them what makes our life a life.

I´ve finished Khaled Hosseini´s book about afghanian women. It seems not only like another world, but like completely another time. 1979…2001.  I know it is pathetic but I feel ashamed when reading about people starving in 21st century and someone like me – at the same time – being in the clinic and strugling with refeeding myself.

Summer vacuum

I am at home this week, reading like mad, both medical books and fiction. When I was really ill, I often wished so much books had some kind of energy and I could live of it.

I am also preparing slowly for next three weeks in white coat, pretty excited and unsure at the same time. But I think the excitement is slightly bigger. I am happy I will be there with two friends from my class. Or – being exact-  from my ex-class. And today´s little treasures:

1. Drawing highways and moles (and not being sure what is what) with our 3-years-old neighbor.

2. Reading Khaleid Hosseini´s book A Thousand Splendid Suns.

Good and bad fears

People are only rare afraid of what they should be afraid of.

I’ve had several panic attacs in my life. Well actually I could count them on both my hands, but it was enough to be aware of them. The anxiety was absolutely debilitating, penetrating to my bone marrow and to my brain, leaving me trapped nside of me. I thought I am going to die or to become insane. Maybe you know it. It was MUCH stronger emotion than quite rational fear when I was laying in my bed with palpitatons, when my hair were coming out in tufts or when doctors said me that there is possibility I will never be able to have a child. I WAS afraid, but this kind of fear was never so deep and real.

As a med students me, my sister, my classmates, we are all little bit hypochondric. Or rather a combination of hypochondric and dissimulating. Everyone of us believed at least once that he/she had some (usually very rare and improbable) medical condition. On the other hand we are so unconnected from our bodies, we are pushing ourselves, we are putting exams and work over our health. I know too many people abusing some stimulants, overeating or not eating propper food, not getting enough sleep, being APPARENTELY unhealthy…

Once I had hematoma under my toe nail (probably due to extreme running) and I was convinced it is acrolentiginous melanoma (one of rarest and most aggressive types of melanoma). I made a sign on my toe and checked it anxiously every day. But come on, of course I didn´t stop my phrenetic running and destroying my body.

It is weird. We are afraid of getting sick, of dying, but on the wrong places.

And sometimes, we are afraid of living.

I think this combination makes recovery (and not only recovery from an ED, but from many other conditions, habits and traps) so hard. Fear is useful, maybe essential. With anxiety I am not sure, but it is probably normal part of the emotion spectrum. But how do we decide what is WORTH being afraid of in the time where a DANGER is so relative?

I wish I learn how to discriminate between worth and worthless (or sick) fears!

Today’ s little treasures:

1. Apricots everywhere! I made 4 jars of jam (or marmelade? I am allways confused with these terms:))
2. The after-rain-air. I love it!
3. Jakub´s CD. Thanks!