Time to Bake in the Sunshine State

Consequence.  In different contexts it is either the emphasis on a task being of importance or an event that has happened as a result of undertaking a particular action. Every feat that is executed has repercussions whether they are of benefit or-along with that of others- to our detriment. With the inevitable passage of time, the outcome of each incident flourishes bringing with it an assortment of ensuing emotions. Assessing the potential impact that our actions would make could in theory lead to a more harmonious life void of disappointment, yet there would therefore be no room left for honesty or spontaneity. We would be condemned to exist in a state of mundane contentment, where our day-to-day lives would lack any aspirations or a motivation to challenge or be challenged. In many instances, the process of over thinking will be concluded by the deterrence of what we initially set out to do; we will lose our courage in the faith that we are doing the right thing. The potential- if somewhat foreseeable- arousal of regret that may follow an action would set a limit as to what we are prepared to say or do should we over-anticipate; we can easily dissuade ourselves in a bid for protection from the resulting guilt. Though to this day my mum still regrets the day she shouted out ‘You are Anorexic’ to me, had she stopped and held her tongue, my realisation of how deeply I had succumbed to the Anorexia would not have been apparent- denial would have taken over. Therefore the consequence of this consequential outburst has led me to where I am now a full year later, benefitting from what the experience has taught me and in a much better state of mind in sharing my story and raising awareness.

I have always pessimistically felt that positive momentous occasions present themselves very rarely in my life and since my disorder began I have seldom had reason to celebrate and make the most of situations. However, this past week has been one that will hopefully be pivotal in returning to a sense of normality and will certainly stick in both my mind and that of my dad’s with whom I shared it with. A few months ago I was presented with the opportunity to escort my dad on a business trip to Florida to which I took the brave (to many I may seem selfishly lucky) decision to accept. A rationally minded person would immediately jump at the chance to visit a hot country with no qualms, but as an Anorexia sufferer my thoughts were initially directed to how I would cope with American sized portions and restaurants every evening; a million miles from my comfortable routine. My mind flitted around with the negatives and though I really wanted to go, I was reluctant to let myself look forward to it. My Anorexia found fear around almost every corner regarding this holiday, as I believe it knew that I would be in an environment whereby I would find it easier to conquer it. My first hurdle came with asking for time off work after having had problems in February with my family skiing trip- I felt almost certain I would not have the week authorised. Fortunately this having not been the case, my flight was booked and I was to spend 5 luxurious days in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

The anxieties ripened the more I allowed myself to think about what I had just agreed to take on and therefore before my departure I did not have any expectations of what the short week would entail. I knew my dad was explicitly in Florida on business and this would therefore be his priority meaning I would very much be left to my own devices during the day. The thought of complete independence terrified me, as I would not have the familiar comfort of those close to me to protect me from the darkness of Anorexia; I was scared of being alone. In October I took up my job in retail as a means to distract myself from constantly thinking about food. With the idea that I would be spending numerous hours of my day simply lounging by the pool, I anticipated to be plagued by a constant stream of thoughts on my upcoming and previous meals. I equally fretted over the certainty of jetlag, due to the feeling of tiredness having become psychologically linked with how frail I was when I was hardly feeding myself. The consequence of having nourished myself correctly over the past few months eliminated the potency of these anxieties; they merely became petty nuisances.  I am much stronger now than I give myself credit for and my willingness to be myself again overcame the Anorexia.

Following a disastrous weight loss after last year’s summer holiday, I had my reserves at my capabilities to cope with feeding myself. Though I was able to challenge myself when I went skiing, the public hotel environment would be vastly different to the homely and comfortable one in the mountains. Both my therapist and my mum questioned whether I had any worries about the nutritional aspect of the holiday, but I was adamant that I would not think about it beforehand. I would preserve my ability to be spontaneous instead of opting out from eating something I crave due to the Anorexia having time to deviously hatch its malicious thoughts in my mind and most importantly refrain from the inescapable stress that would have built up. I made myself remember however, that I AM in a lighter place now and further along the path of recovery than I could have ever hoped for at this stage. With this in mind, I could only believe I would defeat my demons and enjoy the holiday to its full potential. What neither I nor my dad were prepared for was quite how much I was able to take advantage of the holiday environment. I was prepared to completely lose my independence surrounding food, having been warned there were no self-catering facilities within my hotel room and so all 3 of my daily meals (not forgetting snacks) would have to be consumed without prior knowledge of its weight or calorie content. This for me was to be a huge leap further than the once a week evening dining out experiences I had been partaking in back home.  I was to eat every meal in front of strangers bearing every quirk I have with my eating habits along with my tendency to eat slowly. Forget all my trivial fears, this was going to be undeniably my BIGGEST challenge yet.

Through the way I was raised, I have always cleared my plate, rarely leaving food that has been served to me go to waste. When I was ill, I would compensate by simply serving myself a far smaller portion and avoided calorie dense foods, maintaining the illusion of clearing my plate. It also enabled me to know exactly how many calories I was having, as for me it was not simply aiming to have as little calories in total as possible, it was also the control from knowing exactly how much I had consumed to the last decimal. Knowing this, I have come to an agreement with my parents that I will eat the same meals as them without weighing my portion providing they serve me an equal helping to their own; so far this has worked with few dilemmas or stress on my part. However, my experience of American restaurants is that of serving plus size portions and so the primary thought was even if I couldn’t entirely finish what was on my plate, how would I know when I had had reasonable amount? Plane food also has a bad reputation with a limit of choice between two hot meals and this being the first of what I felt to be sure of a week of calorie laden meals, I had to seek reassurance from my dad that the portions would be reasonable and I would be served foods I could eat. I left for the airport having had my usual breakfast of porridge and juice and had a pre-prepared snackbowl of nuts and dried fruit and an apple for the plane. Despite my fears of what food was to be presented to me in the plane, I opted to have a skinny cappuccino before boarding and I even brought myself a tube of smarties. This would have been unheard of had I been with other members of my family, as I would not have been able to cope with their joy in my abilities to relinquish my control and indulge. Though I had aimed to eat half the tube of smarties in order to achieve an appropriate number of calories for the day, I managed only 5 before the guilt overwhelmed me. I must remember to congratulate myself however, as this was no small feat.

First Cocktail

Prior to last week, I had not touched a drop of alcohol since my single glass of white wine on Christmas day, due to my notion that they are unnecessary empty calories. To my surprise when my dad and I went for our first meal out upon my arrival, instead of going for the regular celebratory diet coke I chose a large glass of a fruity frozen cocktail (calorie rich with the liquor AND sugary fruit juices). Having little to soak up the alcohol it hit me very quickly and so I lost all inhibitions when ordering my main meal of grilled tuna with shrimp and rice. The food arrived with two big slabs of tuna and 6 prawns. I immediately told my dad I would eat only one single tuna; I ate one and a half, all my rice and prawns, finishing off the meal with a square of a peanut butter chocolate bar. For breakfast I had anticipated there to be a buffet and so I believed I could choose from an array of cereals and fresh fruit and serve myself the portions I wanted. Wrong. We arrived and it was a la carte. Scanning the menu I was extremely worried; the huge portions were to start first thing in the morning as well!! I chose a berry yogurt with granola and my very first banana in a year. I washed each breakfast down with two large glasses of apple juice. I finished everything. What this meant however, was that there was no need for me to have a nut snack before my lunch and so I entered the poolside bar with hunger and enthusiasm by ordering a tuna nicoise salad with dressing and a pina colada on the side. I was really going for it. The evening followed and the knowledge that I had drunk a cocktail meant that I was unable to allow myself to order one that evening. I however did not feel I missed out as I still ordered what I wanted from the menu and ate it all. The next couple of days followed the same breakfast and light lunch routine though I did order a ceasar salad AND ate the parmesan in it as well as a turkey and bacon wrap respectively. The biggest shock came when I decided I wanted a desert. I had to tell my dad my desires before my Anorexia convinced me not to have one, that way I could remain on the path of my cravings. We had ice-creams. Two HUGE scoops (this is not my Anorexia’s exaggeration) and I honestly didn’t think I would finish it before the thoughts stopped the spoon from returning to my mouth, but I managed it with minimal guilt and we returned for ice-cream on the next three days that ensued but only on my insistence!

I hadn’t realised but my dad pointed out that up until this holiday, I had never been able to admit to being hungry. I washed down a daily fruity cocktail and ordered food I WANTED to eat rather than searching high and low on the menu for the meal with the least number of calories. This is the first time in a long time I resisted the Anorexia’s urge to go for the lightest dish available and even had a starter before my main meal. I was eating normally for anyone on holiday. INDULGING! Of course there was the enjoyment too. Though the Americans are extremely accommodating when you order, I was afraid and too embarrassed to ask them to heat up my food when it got cold and so left it to my dad. The first biggest bought of guilt came when I decided to go for the stack of granola blueberry pancakes for my fourth breakfast after they had caught my eye the first morning. I had been putting off ordering them every time but felt that I would somewhat regret not having American pancakes whilst in America. The stack arrived and there were 5 large ones with a huge bowl of maple syrup on the side. My first reaction to my dad was, ‘I won’t eat all of them’ he simply replied that I could eat as much as I wanted. I started off by pouring a minimal amount of syrup to ‘preserve’ the calories but ended up decanting the entire serving on my pancakes… as well as eating all 5 of them. It was after my third however, that the thoughts started. ’What are you doing??’ my Anorexia was yelling inside me but I managed to hold on to myself and what I, Solene wanted and persevered with my breakfast. I even ordered them for a second time for my last breakfast in Florida. 

My reluctance to challenge myself until I am introduced to a different environment is not simply based on the comfort of a daily routine into which you get stuck, but it is down to the idea that if I do then I will be expected if not required to repeat my accomplishments without any underlying issues.  Following an ability to eat ice-cream on holiday, my parents asked me what deserts I would be willing to eat at home, as if it should become normal for me to eat them regularly. I felt somewhat pressurised though they assured me they were not pushing me towards doing anything I was not comfortable with. I find it virtually impossible to directly reveal information verbally, as I find it difficult to cope with a reaction first hand. So I write, preferring to have people asses what I have to say before relaying their thoughts to me. My sister is the only one with whom I have been able to share this vocally, but the consequence of my week of impulsiveness and extravagance has led to an exorbitant weight gain. Each time I ate on holiday, I told myself to simply enjoy it and any weight gained would be that much less to reaching my goal, yet up until now due to experiencing weight gain very slowly, this amount of restoration has scared me. I feel ridiculously guilty for putting so much on in a week and I am afraid to further indulge in case the gaining does not stop past my goal. This is a ridiculous notion I will hopefully soon grow out of, as the benefits of what I managed to achieve on holiday far outweigh my Anorexia’s guilt. Having had my dad constantly relay to my mum all my achievements, they were both in the loop. Their joy was as if I was being born again; seeing me eat and enjoy it had the very same effect on them.