Bad News — Especially for an anorexic

TRIGGER WARNING — Numbers are in this post.

I found out today that I am at least 10 pounds overweight, and most likely, because I am small-framed, about 30 pounds.

I need to lose 30 pounds.

I am speechless.

I knew I was heading in this direction, but of course no one wanted to say anything to me. Who wants to say to a recovering anorexic — the eating disorder voice is still very strong — that she needs to lose weight. I wouldn't.

But weight does effect health, and now I am in the position that I need to lose instead of gain.

I had hoped that I might be able to move past weight. I had hoped that this, all of this, wouldn't be a focal point of my life.

I had hoped to achieve recovery, but right now it feels as out of grasped as when I was at my thinnest.

I can't believe this.

I am so upset.

Is complete recovery from an eating disorder even possible?

In 2007, an inexplicably irrational and frightening disease entered my life — anorexia nervosa. I was familiar with it, of course, although I did not have any close friends who struggled with anorexia or any other eating disorder, at least that I knew of.

My first contact with anorexia was with a two-sentence entry in my Abnormal Psychology textbook. It was the 1980s, and eating disorders just weren't getting a lot of attention. My next encounter with anorexia was in the early 1990s, when I was hospitalized at the University of Michigan Hospitals after a particularly bad bout with depression and anxiety. There was a young woman there, very thin and pale, who was on complete bed rest. I later found out that she had anorexia. I scoffed, eating my bacon eggs, that anyone would willingly starve herself.

Little did I know that years later, that woman would be me.

I developed anorexia after a bout with another frightening disease, hypoparathyroidism, caused me to lose a significant amount of weight. I found that I liked being that thin, and thus was kicked into anorexia and five years of utter hell.

There have been many fits and starts during my recovery, when I would go so far, only to jerk back and start clinging to anorexia like it was my best friend. I became a serial patient at my ED doctor's hospital, being admitted eight times between 2008 and 2012.

I still sometimes ask myself, will there be a ninth admission?

I started working seriously on recovery after my last hospitalization. I was discharged on 1 January 2012, and days later, I slammed my scale against the trash can and tossed it out. I have not owned a scale since.

But eating disorder thoughts still come and go, some fleetingly, others taking hold until I feel as if I am smothering.

Fat. Not so fat. Cellulite. Dimples............fatttttttttttttt.....oh so fat!!!!!!!! I wouldn't be caught.dead.in.a.bikini, said in a clinched tone. FAT FAT FAT FAT FAT, SCREAMING AT ME, GOD PLEASE STOP THESE THOUGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Of course, anorexia isn't really about weight and food and body image. And yet it is. My life is pretty stressful right now. I'm looking for full-time work after finishing graduate school. My living situation isn't idea. I feel like a failure after the twin disasters in December and June.

It is characteristic of me to turn inward, churning up self-hatred, berating myself for actually nourishing myself as a normal human being, hating myself for no longer being a size XX.

But all of this leads me to think, will I ever be completely recovered?

I mean, the truth is, I am at the high end of the acceptable weight for my age and height. I do need to lose some weight. I am risking my health, or I was, with all the sugar and simple carbs I've been ingesting.

So how does a recovered anorexic — if I am truly recovered — address possible health issues and the need to lose weight? How do I do it safely, or is it simply not possible?

Or will this simply trigger another relapse? Can I safely maintain my healthy, get to a healthy weight, without inviting anorexia back in?

Does anyone ever really recover from an eating disorder?

An Open Letter to Sen. John Moolenaar, R-Midland

One of an ongoing series of letters I am writing to Michigan legislators about the lack of suitable employment in the state. When I receive an answer from one of the legislators, I will post it here.


Hi John,

I hope this finds you doing well. I wanted to share with my experiences since I left the Daily News, and hopefully help you understand some of the issues currently facing college graduates in this state.

After I left the Midland Daily News in 2009, I attended graduate school and completed my master's degree in English Composition and Communication in August 2012. Cheryl Wade — I'm sure you remember her — also left the paper to go to graduate school, and she received her master's in rehabilitation counseling.

Both Cheryl and myself have years of experience in journalism, and I have five more years experience as a social worker. We both are intelligent, talented, and known to be very hard workers.

And we both are unemployed. Cheryl is currently working full-time without pay as a counselor for a women's center in Lansing, where she did her internship. I am freelancing for the paper while I look for full-time work.

Next week, Cheryl will fly to Kentucky to interview for a position as a rehabilitation counselor there. You see, she has applied to numerous positions, but nothing has stuck. She has tried to find a job in Michigan — she loves Michigan and has family and friends here. But she thinks one year is enough, as I'm sure you will agree.

Today I applied for a job in Kentucky. I also want to stay in Michigan — it is my home state, and I also have family and friends here. But I did not earn my graduate degree to simply live on unemployment and whatever freelance or low-paying options I might be able to find.

My question to you and all state legislators is what are all of you going to do to stop this "brain drain" from continuing in Michigan?

Some day, the economy will stabilize here in Michigan. Some day, professionals will retire and positions will open up. What will this state do when it turns around to hire new people, only to find the best and the brightest gone, employing their talents and skills in other states, because their state had nothing for them?

Angela

An Open Letter to the Democratic Party

In response to the many e-mails soliciting my financial support.

Dear Democratic Party,

I have been a staunch supporter of the Democratic Party since I was 18. I have supported the party on several occasions, but I now am unable to. Why, you ask? Because in spite of having three degrees and 14 years experience in my field, I am unemployed and now anxiously awaiting whether my unemployment will be approved. I am part of a generation - or perhaps two generations - of Americans who bought into the hype that having an education meant having a better life, when in reality many of us are struggling worse than our person who had either a high school diploma or less. Where do we fit into the grand scheme of things? How can we build any kind of life? Why has our government failed to recognize an entire group of people -educated, literate, and hard working - that are languishing, either unemployed or underemployed and working at jobs that require little or no training.

Why is the DCC concerned about this? Does the party not realize what a horrible, tragic waste of intelligence and talent this is?

Sincerely,
Angela E. Gambrel

An Open Letter to Employers

We're smart, well-read, irreverent, funny, hard workers, and highly educated.

And we are unemployed.

Ever since the economic bubble bursted in 2008, this country has experienced a level of unemployment previously unknown. Yes, I know that there have been periods in which more people have been unemployed — the Great Depression of the 1930s and the Reagan Era of the 1980s come to mind — but I would venture to say that there has never been a time period when so many highly intelligent, well-educated people have struggled to find gainful employment.

There was a time when having an education was key to a better life. But that is no more.

Now the key to having a better life, or at least to being gainfully employed, is ... well, I'm not sure what the key is. Somebody please tell me if you know.

Myself and others did everything right. We graduated from high school. We went onto college or university. We worked hard and earned a degree, and some of us even went back and earned a master's degree. For all intents and purposes, we should be at least somewhere near the middle of the economic strata.

This from the National Center for Education Statistics: "For young adults ages 25-34 who worked full time throughout a full year, higher educational attainment was associated with higher median earnings."

This from the United States Census Bureau: "Workers 18 and over sporting bachelors degrees earn an average of $51,206, while those with a high school diploma earn $27,915. But wait, there's more. Workers with an advanced degree make an average of $74,602, and those without a high school diploma average $18,734."

Really? Really!?! Let's see. In 1991, I graduated with a bachelor's degree in Psychology. I was hired as a mental health therapist/case manager — a position that required at the minimum a bachelor's degree — at a yearly salary of $25,500.

Okay, so that was more than 20 years ago. Let's move forward. I went back to school to pursue my dream of being a writer, and graduated with my second bachelor's degree, this one in English/Imaginative Writing, in 1998. I was hired as an intern reporter/staff writer in 1999 — also a position that required at least a bachelor's degree — at $11 an hour, or $19,800 yearly.

Clearly I was not playing the game right, as I was going down the economic ladder with each subsequent degree.

I so loved being a journalist — the writing, meeting people, feeling that I was doing something that really mattered — that I ignored the fact that people out of high school were making more than me.

Then I got sick, as long-term readers of this blog know, with anorexia. I had to take a three-month sick leave due to the affects of starving myself, and I wondered if I would ever work again. I ate and ate and ate some more, and was able to return to work, only to be faced with a buyout offer upon my return.

I looked at this as an opportunity, a chance to pursue my dream of earning my master's degree and furthering my career. I took the buyout and returned to school, and was awarded my master's in English Composition and Communication.

This was in August 2012. And my income? $0

Okay, now I have to admit that I haven't spent all of my time since graduating searching for full-time work. I took the entire summer off last year and did some other things this past fall. At the end of February, I relocated in hopes of finding more opportunities.

Job hunting has turned out to be an eye-opening, soul-crushing experience. It is a game with no clear winners, because when I get a job, that means one, two, three, or more people lose out. It is a game that causes you to suppress the best parts of yourself, while bringing to light some of your worst traits. Traits such as competitiveness and jealousy and plain old back-stabbing.

Because everyone else is playing the game, and by God, you better figure out how to play it or be crushed and thrown to the side.

It seems like something mean-spirited and ugly has been set loose, like the life of each one of us has been diminished, and that we are only here to interface and produce and perform.

And I'm afraid for this society, at what it means for all of us.

Thank you (Again)

I am humbled and honored that my blog has been named one of The Best Eating Disorder Health Blogs of 2013 by Healthline. This is the second year that The Spirit Within has been named, and it still amazes me that what started out as an attempt to write my way out of anorexia nervosa has inspired and helped others struggling with an eating disorder.


This is what Healthline wrote about The Spirit Within:

"The Spirit Within, created by Angela Elain Gambrel, takes a biblical approach to helping readers overcome eating disorders.

Forty-seven-year-old Gambrel describes herself as “in recovery from anorexia,” yet she refuses to let that label define her. Instead, she uses her blog to provide regular doses of inspiration to others who are suffering from eating disorders."

I am forever grateful that I could use my writing skills to help others, and also to help myself.

Perspective

In many ways, the past six years have been very difficult. First I almost died from lithium poisoning. Then I developed horrible migraines and high blood pressure, coupled with unexplainable weight loss, only to find out - nearly a year later - that these and other symptoms were caused by hyperparathyroidism...

I remember that day. It was hot, and I was struggling to get through work. My doctor told me she suspected hyperparathyroidism, based upon my symptoms and  PTH levels. My first thought was, "What they hell is that?"

I had become thin, so thin, thinner than I had been since I was a teenager. At the time, I didn't like being that thin. I thought, "I hope David doesn't expect me to diet in order to maintain this ridiculously low weight."

Why didn't I just hold onto that thought? What would the past six years have been like, if only?

I'm tired. Depressed. Aggravated. And did I mention tired?

I've been thinking what a soul-sucking activity it is to look for a job. That the past four years have been soul-sucking. I almost died of ______. Fill in the blank. Lithium poisoning. Hyperparathyroidism.

Anorexia nervosa.

I mean, come on! Who in the hell develops anorexia in her forties? I do.

I could dissect the past six years into tiny little pieces, and still not get it.

But for all my depression and struggles, for all my fears and anxieties, I still have it pretty good.

This was on my Facebook newsfeed this morning: A Syrian Refugee Wedding. An article about a 15-year-old girl in a Syrian refugee camp getting married. To avoid prostitution and rape. To make her life better.

Marriage at 15? Really? Is this the world we live in?

And she was considered old; the story states that many of the refugee girls are married off at the age of ten or younger.

I confess that my perspective has been somewhat narrow, and selfish. I want to work. Being unemployed sucks, especially for a Type-A personality such as myself. (The joke used to be that I didn't know how to vacation, or relax. I'm working on it.)

But I'm 47, and I'm free. I'm able to make my own choices, albeit some of them have been stupid. But they are mine.

My family did not have to marry me off at 15 or 10 or 8  in order to protect me from rape and a possible life of prostitution. I did not have to leave school at the age of 9. I am able to read and learn, and just be.

This is my vow: I dig myself out of this hole I'm in, and then do whatever is in my power to help others. It could be as simple as creating awareness, or as profound as writing pieces that shine the light on the atrocities of the world.

If I lose my ability to care, I've lost everything.

Maundy Thursday

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." John 3:16

I knelt down and slowly, gently, poured the water on her feet. I thought of Jesus and his disciples, and how our Lord humbled himself to show His love, even to the one who would betray him.

What were his thoughts as he washed the dusty feet of his followers? Did his heart break, knowing that one would soon betray him? Did his heart swell with love?

Did he know that one day, thousands of years later, I would humble myself and wash the feet of a stranger?

I imagined Jesus and the Twelve Disciples traveling the dusty roads of Israel. It was hot and dry, but they walked with purpose and they walked with love.

It is Holy Week. A time when the veil between God and man is torn, a time in which I often can feel God's presence both in and around me.

And yet, at times, doubts plague me. Why?

The last three months have been both a time of turmoil and a time of reflection. What place do I have in this world? Where do I fit into the whole picture? How do I live my life for the glory of God, to the purpose He has for me?

And what about pain?

I know these are not unique thoughts. But these thought hammer me at night.

Sometimes I'm frightened. I pray for strength. I pray to know all the answers.

Of course, that is impossible. I will not know until the day I die. And maybe not even then.

I think about placing my feet into the basin. The lady — whose name I do not recall — pouring warm water over them. How relaxing. How humbling that another human being did that for me.

And Jesus was there.

You can be free

To all who are reading this:

You can be free.
I am.
And I am amazed and grateful.

I never thought I could be free of anorexia.
But my psychiatrist, my family, and my friends believed in me. God believed in me. And it happened.
I am free.
Anorexia is dead.

Please, all of you out there.
Please fight.
You can be free.
You can live again.
And thrive.

I know.
I am thriving.
I love life now.

Thank you.

Thanksgiving and Recovery

Thanksgiving and Recovery

Two years of Surviving ED

Two years of Surviving ED

The Gift of Recovery

The Gift of Recovery

In which she chooses life

I know I haven't written in a while. It's just...some days I'm full on-board with recovery, and some days it gets tiresome.

So many things still stand in the way of full recovery. A picture in a magazine, a spoken word misinterpreted, a half-remembered longing triggered...

What is it about this illness, anorexia, that makes it so hard to let go? Why have so many people, including me, start strongly on recovery, only to succumb to its siren call yet again? What does it even mean?

What did — does? — anorexia mean to me? As time passes and memory fades, it is easier to see the positive aspects of self-starvation. And yes, there were positives, or its allure would have faded long ago.

It becomes easier to remember only the positives, and frankly, harder to remember the pain of it all. So I have to dredge up the pain in order to save myself, and dampen any incipient enthusiasm for that which could still kill me if I am not careful.

What is it about this illness — one that destroys all life and love and ambition, boiling down existence to mere fear and self-hatred — that makes one cling to it, screaming inside that it is the only thing that could possibly understand, the only thing that can save one from nothingness?

Now I have life and friendships and a bright future. Why would I even consider giving those up for the abyss? Why would I let days of loneliness and anxiety take me down that path? Why would I even invite it at all?

It would have been so easy. Sick, unable to eat. The perfect excuse. The perfect reason to go back.

But no. I still choose life, even if it is hard and frightening. Because I would rather be frightened than dead.

Book review: Animals (A Novel)

This odd little book explores the horrors of factory farming through the eyes of Sam, a deaf boy who is declared a mongrel and sent to a chattel processing facility to be processed as food. The horrors of how we process meat comes through through the sheer banality of this tale. This book is NOT for the faint of heart, and will change the way you think about food. It also raises questions about what makes us human. Thought-provoking and a must-read.

Determined to Die? Suicide and Anorexia Nervosa | Surviving ED

Determined to Die? Suicide and Anorexia Nervosa | Surviving ED

The Physical Aspects of Anorexia Disorder Recovery | Surviving ED

The Physical Aspects of Anorexia Disorder Recovery | Surviving ED

Rediscovering Life After Anorexia | Surviving ED

Rediscovering Life After Anorexia | Surviving ED

Facing The Fearsome Scale | Surviving ED

Facing The Fearsome Scale | Surviving ED

Lost hope

This is hard...but, I've been struggling with depression for several months now. It started slowly, insidiously; sneaking up on me. Little forays into my happiness, striking at my self-confidence and laughing at my hopes.

I am happy.
Happy.
But...you don't deserve to be happy.
Why not?
Because.

The sun is shining and I am embracing it, twirling around.
My heart soars
Life has never been better.
I can do anything.
Anything.

I have finally become free...

That is what you think.
Icy streams surrounding me
Slowly choking out the happiness
Blackness filling my days

But....I was happy.

For weeks, I've struggled with everything.
First, eating. I'll either not eat, or not eat healthily.
It is if I don't deserve full nutrition, full recovery.
I don't want to always think about food.
Guilt.
Shame.
Aggravation.
FAT.
It is weird. Sometimes I can eat without free.
But then FEAR comes roaring back.
Each.and.every.time

Then there is this thing called life.
Cleaning. Laundry. Bills. Answering e-mails. Grocery shopping. Talking to people. Calling family. Visiting. Attending church. Volunteer work.....
AHHHH!!!
I can't do this.

So I stay up until 2, 3, 4 a.m.
Too afraid to got to bed.
Mindlessly wandering the Internet.
No thoughts.
It feels like a binge.
A binge of the online world.
Designed to cross-circute my emotions.

Emotions?
Do I even have any?
Why can't I cry?

Oh, I will sometimes squeeze out a few hypocritical tears.
Look, I am crying. I feel sad. I feel...
Numbness.

So I isolate.
This passive-agressive approach to life at full-tilt.
My cell phone voicemail full.
A week's worth of mail stuffed inside the mailbox.
Does the mailman think I'm dead?
Does he even notice?

Days sat huddling in my house,
I am embarrassed to be in my nightgown at 2, 3 in the afternoon.
I wish I had a drink.
Or two.
Or three...
Then I could oh-so-fashionbly sip my glass(es) of wine while twirling said nightgown.
I wouldn't be a loser, then.
Instead, I could say that something important kept me up and by God I deserved to sleep until noon, 1, 2 p.m.!
And the wine would seductively slide down my throat.

I sometimes miss starving.
The feelings of emptiness.
Dizziness.
Heart racing.
Sick, isn't it.

Sometimes I think if one more person tells me I look good, I'm going to fucking scream.
Look good=you're fat
I mean, does anyone ever ask someone if she has gained weight?

I sit, hopeless, in front of my computer.
Too scared to move.
Frozen.
I want to throw myself on my knees and beg God to take this feeling away, take it all away and open me to new life.

A life that is tantalizingly out of reach.
My fingers hovering, trying to grasp it before it falls apart.

Love
Worthwhile work
Friends
Family
Laughter

I feel unworthy. Lonely. Full of hopelessness.
I admitted that to my psychiatrist the other day (of course after he already called me out on it.)

I feel as if my dreams have fallen apart.
Damn it, I'll just admit it — I am envious of women whose spouses have stood by them, whose husbands cherish and love them...till death do they part.
Husbands who have KEPT their vows, who believe that the words meant something, not just to be thrown away like so much trash, like scrapping gum off of the bottom of a shoe.

What is wrong with me???
Why can't I inspire that kind of devotion?

Will love ever be a part of my life again?
Romantic love, I mean.

And...will laughter and happiness and fulfillment and all the hopes and dreams that threaten to bubble up and overwhelm me ever become part of my life?

In the meantime, my world continues to crash around me. Dishes are again piled in the sink. Laundry is half-done. The upstairs needs to be vacuumed. Three weeks worth of garbage sit in the garage. There are piles everywhere.
I mean, where does this crap come from, anyway??? Is there a clutter fairy who drops off junk at my house at an alarming rate?
Books. Books everywhere.
I mean, I love books. But I don't love tripping over them every five seconds.
Bottles of nail polish on my desk, clothes piled on the dryer, threatening to topple. The spare bedroom crammed with an overturned Christmas tree, complete with bulbs still attached.
My bicycle remains untouched, my bow and arrow no longer getting any practice time.
Months worth of vestry minutes untyped.
You get the picture.

Then, I sleep until 10:30 a.m. on Friday. The day I need to drive more than two hours to my psychiatrist's office.
Who needs nine, ten hours of sleep?
I do.
Because sleep has become my escape.
Really, I would stay in bed all day if I felt like I could.
Nothing can touch me when I'm in bed.
Sort of like nothing could touch me when I had anorexia.

I miss...
I miss me.
Me.
I feel as if I want too much.
Please God, are my wishes and dreams unattainable?

I know that only I can move forward and reclaim my life.
Then why is it so hard?

I want more...

Thank you

I am stunned, honored, and somewhat amazed to have my blog named as one of the 18 Best Eating Disorder Blogs of 2012.

This is what Healthline had to say about The Spirit Within:

Angela Gambrel knows from experience the difficulty of fighting an eating disorder. Her blog details her slow but steady recovery from anorexia and her endeavor to find happiness, acceptance, and beauty in herself and the world. Thoughtful, relatable, and moving, Angela’s bravery and dedication offers hope and encouragement for others in recovery.

This inspiring woman refuses to let her eating disorder define her, and she is working hard to use it to build a future of helping others in her situation. Kudos to Angela for her efforts and her writing!

Wow! I can't believe I've actually helped others with what started out as simply a way to reach out and connect with the eating disorder community.

Thank you to all of you read this blog, and continue to inspire me along the path of recovery!

Please click the box to check out the other named blogs, and be inspired!