NEDA Week 2012: Part Three

Like I said yesterday, there is much more to my story than I am touching on in these posts. But for those of you who have read my story year after year, I’m sure you don’t need every detail again. For those of you who haven’t, read 2010 or 2011’s recap for a more in-depth overview of my treatment. What I will say again is that for a long time, I went through treatment without really caring about whether or not I succeeded. This way, I was in treatment so I could say, “What do you want me to do? I’m trying to get better! I’m in treatment, for Pete’s Sake!!” without actually having to gain weight. It was a win/win. Finally, there was a moment when I realized that within months, I’d be moving to Texas without my Therapist and Nutritionist who heard me whine and complain and vent for the past year and a half. I knew I had to get my butt in gear and either get better or deal with this disorder for the rest of my life. I chose the former. Long story short: I finally listened to what they said, I finally put their words into action, and I finally started to get better. When I moved to Texas, I felt like I was actually better…not perfect, but better. I have no idea how I would have succeeded in recovery here in Texas without the wonderful support I got from Children’s Hospital Eating Disorder Clinic in Omaha. Luckily, I didn’t have to find out because just a couple short months after moving here, I got knocked up. Getting pregnant essentially thrust me into a solid recovery because I had to eat in order to keep my baby healthy. After 9 months of healthy eating, I felt like I was in a pattern of good behaviors. I lost most of the baby weight (I was still underweight when I got pregnant) in a healthy way. Sure, there were tough days but at least I could point to Jack and tell myself, “THAT is why you look like this. It was worth it. You’ll lose it.” And I did. I think what is hardest is that I don’t know that I will ever be just okay with my body. When I was 103 pounds, I felt HUGE. When I was pregnant, I felt HUGE (okay, I was huge…but you get my point). A year after having Jack: HUGE. Now here I am, about to celebrate Jack’s 2^nd birthday and I feel, you guessed it: HUGE. Okay, maybe not huge but I don’t feel good about myself at all.

Part of this kidney disorder that I was recently diagnosed with is that I have to take quite a few medications in order to stay well. Taking 5 horse pills each morning on an empty stomach requires a BIG breakfast in order to quell off nausea—a breakfast that consists of more than the regular granola bar or kolache I’m used to grabbing as I run out the door. And when the supplements alone didn’t get my body where it needed to be, I went on a High Magnesium diet in order to try and get my body to absorb magnesium. But high magnesium foods, while healthy, aren’t good for the whole “keeping weight constant” thing. I’ve added about 500 calories a day in almonds, hemp hearts and quinoa alone. Yes, those are all GREAT foods but 50 almonds (a decent serving of magnesium) contain much more calories than my normal snack of a grapefruit or a granola bar. Anyway, all that to say that I’ve gained a few pounds in the last couple months and I just feel like crap about myself. I look back at pictures from this time last year and think, “I look GOOD! I’d had a baby just a year prior and look at me! I looked GOOD! I wish I looked like that now.” Isn’t that funny? Isn’t it funny that at this time a year ago, I felt horrible about myself and here I am now, just a few pounds heavier, thinking, “I wish I looked like that again!” I remember doing that when I was at my skinniest too…I’d look at pictures of myself on my wedding day and think, “I looked good!” despite the fact that I weighed about 20 pounds more on my wedding day than I did at my skinniest. Oh, Molly, will you ever be okay with yourself? No, probably not.

NEDA Week 2012: Part Two

Like I said yesterday, I’m not really sure where to start these posts. If you haven’t already heard my story, you can read about it HERE and HERE. Long story short: I wanted to lose weight, I joined a reputable and healthy weight loss program where I got down to a good weight. As you know, losing weight takes time though. So after months and months of seeing the scale move just a pound or two each week, it was really hard to all of a sudden see it stay stagnant at my goal weight. So I decided I’d lose just a couple more pounds. And then just a couple more. And maybe just a few more…until I was asking an acquaintance of mine (who happened to be a doctor) to write me a doctor’s note that said that so-and-so pounds was a healthy weight for me because if he didn’t, the program wouldn’t let me come back unless I gained a few pounds. And even then, I would sit in the parking lot before weigh ins chugging giant cups of water in order to “put on weight” before weigh ins so that I was within the “healthy per the doctor” range. Eventually, even my water trick didn’t work and I ended up being asked not to return until I put on a few pounds. So instead, I just didn’t return. After about a year of weighing myself multiple times a day, waking up at 4:30 to exercise before class, and feeling fat even in my Size 0 jeans, a family friend urged me to enter treatment for anorexia. I didn’t think I was anorexic but I did think I was unhappy and I figured that treatment would maybe have some trick to teach me to be okay with my body—even if it was a fat one (in my head, of course). I most certainly didn’t think they’d tell me I was anorexic. After all, I still ate cheeseburgers and fries with reckless abandon. Granted, I wouldn’t eat (or would barely eat) for the next two or three days but hey! I’d never heard of an anorexic who ate cheeseburgers at all so clearly I was okay. Before my first appointment, I went out and bought the book, Life Without Ed because I had heard that it was a good starting point for someone who may have an eating disorder. I remember sitting in the bathtub reading portions of the book and thinking, “Well yeah, I do that too….but that doesn’t mean I’m anorexic. I’m too fat to have an eating disorder!” Page after page, I’d hear of another familiar “trick” or habit and I’d think, “That’s quite the coincidence…I do that too…it’s funny that I do things that anorexic girls do.” Even then, it didn’t click that the reason I did those things was because I was anorexic.

When I went into my first appointment at the Eating Disorder clinic, I looked around at the other girls in there. I remember thinking that every one of them was judging me and wondering why this fatty was so delusional to think that I could be a member of their elite anorexic club—clearly I was too big to have an eating disorder, who was I kidding? So when they took all my measurements and I was told point blank, “Well, you’re clinically anorexic.” I was shocked. And also a little proud…because if I was anorexic, that meant I was at least kind of skinny. And that was quite the accomplishment for a little nutball like myself.

NEDA Week 2012: Part One

It’s that time of year again…the time where my blog becomes all about eating disorders for a week. Yep, I know you’re excited. In truth, neither am I. I’ve had “NEDA Week” on my calendar for months now. I kept telling myself I’d sit down one of these days and write out my five posts for this important week. Yet day after day, I’d think about writing the post and decide to go to bed, watch TV, do anything but write down my thoughts on my struggle with anorexia. I felt like you’ve all heard my story and if you haven’t, I could just link to my posts from NEDA Week 2010 or NEDA Week 2011 and call it a day…or a week, as the case may be. But I also know that based on what I’ve learned from Google Analytics, quite a few people find this blog by googling things like “Am I anorexic?” and “Husband of an anorexic.” It’s important to me to share my story because if people are coming here from google trying to find answers about what anorexia is, how to deal with someone with anorexia, and what recovery looks like from the “other” side, I want to be a voice for that. So even though this is kind of a tough time in my recovery journey, I think it’s worth it.

I hope that you’ll read all five posts this week and I hope that you’ll share them with your friends, your blog readers, your twitter peeps, whatever…because in all honesty, everyone wants to find meaning in their struggles. For me, I like to think that the reason I went through this was to help other people. So I hope you’ll share my story so that it might be able to help other people realize that they may have a problem, that they should get help, and that recovery is worth it. Because after all, everybody knows somebody.

Hor

As I noted in my first New Orleans post, one of the chief reasons we chose NOLA for our little family vacay was due to a girl named Stephanie. Steph and I attended the same middle school where we weren’t the best of friends—in fact, we kind of didn’t like each other. She was apparently jealous of me because I got the lead as Mamie in the hit musical, “You Ain’t Nothin’ But a Warewolf” despite the fact that my singing sounded like cats dying in an alley while hers sounded like angels fluttering amongst fluffy white clouds. I didn’t like her because I one day tried to compliment her Les Mis t-shirt (yeah, you read that right) and she kind of ignored me. Then one day in High School, we became friends. Not sure how it happened but all of a sudden, she and I were inseparable—Shayla, Steph and I became the three amigos. Of course, just a couple months later Shayla and I up and moved to the South while Stephanie stayed behind in the Good Life state of Nebraska.

Steph and I kept in touch the first year I lived in Texas—writing emails, IMing into the wee hours of the night, and writing letters. The summer after I moved, she flew down and stayed with me for 2 whole weeks. It was glorious! I still hadn’t made any good friends here in Texas and it was so comforting to have 2 weeks of uninterrupted friendship with a girl who just made friendship feel comfortable and effortless. While she was here, she introduced me to a lovely little boy band—Plus One—perhaps you’ve heard of them? No? Probably because while the Backstreet Boys were singing about blonde highlights and hot ladies, Plus One was belting out tunes about how great Jesus is. Yep, I got on the Christian Boy Band train…what of it? Anyway, that CD she brought to Texas would all but change my life. Steph and I had never really talked about our faith—we were both just two goodie two shoes kind of girls…I was good because I was supposed to be. But Steph was good for another reason…and I wanted to know more about it.  Long story short, by the end of her trip to Texas, Jesus was constantly on my mind. For the first time in my life, I actually wanted to learn from the sermons I heard each Sunday. Stephanie served as a catalyst for my faith life…and that is kind of something that cements a friend straight into the “forever” category.

But our friendship wasn’t all musicals and Jesus. See, Steph recently married a handsome young lad by the name of Carlos. Note: what you can’t see in these pictures is Carlos’ piercing eyes…just trust me, those eyes are gonna getcha.

(photo credit: Laura Rockett Photography)

However, prior to her marriage to Carlos (aka “The Eyes”), Steph’s last name was Horak….and for some reason, we all called her “Hor”…and thought it was perfectly acceptable. Even after I began loving the Baby Jesus somethin’ fierce, I’d still call her up and be all, “Hey Hor! How’s it going?” Even my dad called her that…still does, as a matter of fact. One day, Stephanie called me and the conversation essentially went like this:

Her: Hey Molly. What’s up?

Me: Hey Hor! How are you?

Her: Umm…fine.

Me: What’s wrong. Hor?

Her: Umm…what?

Me: C’mon Hor, why are you being so weird?

Me: Umm…Molly, why do you keep calling me that word?

Yeah, the risk of calling one of your friends by a nickname that is also associated with an insult is that before the days of Caller ID, you may think you’re talking to your friend Hor when you are actually talking to your Prim and Proper friend, Leslee. Oops. Leslee still teases me about that, “Remember that time when you kept calling me a whore?”

Anyway, Stephanie moved to New Orleans shortly after Hurricane Katrina in order to do volunteer work for Campus Crusade for Christ. After seeing a need, she decided to stay in NOLA and join the police force. Just a short few years later, my pal Steph is a Detective with the NOPD—what I’m saying is she’s a big shot. When we came into town, Steph was such a sweetheart—even though she and her husband Carlos (who is also a cop) work terribly long hours leading up to and during Mardi Gras, they both made time for us. Steph showed us some Katrina damage, took us on a tour of parts of NOLA we would have never seen otherwise, showed us a super cool cemetery, entertained Jack, toted us to the airport (even though we had enough luggage to fill up a cessna), took us to my favorite meal of our trip, and basically just lifted my spirits and just reminded me why I’ll always hold her so near and dear to my heart. The two days we got to see her were my two favorite days of our trip. I didn’t take many pictures of those days but trust me, they were good ones. She’s a fantastic girl and I’m so lucky that I worked up the guts to talk to her all those years ago…even after my initial icebreaker about French Revolution musicals didn’t go over so hot.

Steph, THANK YOU! Seeing you was so fantastic and it was so gracious of you to play tour guide and chauffer to us while we were in town. You are such a good friend and I am so lucky that we’ve stayed in touch all these years later. I love you so very much!! And it’s true, you are my soul tattoooooooooo!!

Takin’ It Easy in the Big Easy! (part duex)

We consider ourselves pretty lucky: we were able to see many parts of New Orleans that most tourists never see…like the inside of the New Orleans Urgent Care clinic and the inside of the CVS pharmacy. That’s right, kiddo’s fever and constant coughing/vomiting got us worried enough to make a trip to the doctor. Turns out he had a rough cough that was causing him to puke and an ear infection…again. Looks like tubes may be in his future.

After Jack started feeling better, we got back out into the city. Our last couple days in New Orleans, we were able to go see the Mississippi, ride on a street car (other than the one we took to the pharmacy), hit up the Louisiana Children’s Museum, and make another trip to Café du Monde.

There are no words to describe how much I love these two boys. And when they hold hands? I melt.

Pumpin’ iron at the Children’s Museum. Never too early to get started in an exercise routine…

Get out of the way! I have to take after my pal Detective Steph and go get them bad guys!

What is this? What is going on?

Wait just a cotton pickin’ second—is this a giant bubble?

THAT WAS AMAZING!!!

Now we enter the “Tiny World” portion of the museum. Here we have Jack making me a meal in his pint-sized kitchen.

But of course he first needs to shop for his ingredients…

The kid likes him some produce.

Checking out….

The old man wasn’t working fast enough so Jack had to take over.

And now time for some arts & crafts

The completed project: an Abe Lincoln hat and beard

Jack fitted himself for glasses at the museum’s eye shop.

We then headed out for a few more touristy activities we missed out on while Jack was sick. I had another Bloody Mary because 1) we were on vacation, 2) I could, and 3) They put pickled green beans in their Bloody Marys there in NOLA. I have a soft spot for pickled vegetables.

The oysters at Acme Oyster House.

If you don’t want to see me shoveling raw oysters in my mouth, look away now. And for the avoidance of any doubt, Bloody Mary + Raw Oysters = I’m Not Pregnant. Sorry folks…

We walked a couple blocks on Bourbon Street because it seemed like something we should do. Yikes! I thought Bourbon Street was akin to Sixth Street in Austin—maybe a few crazy bars at night but fine during the day. I did NOT expect so many nudie bars. Needless to say, I was the only one with a stroller on that street.

Me and my Baby on Bourbon Street. What WHAT?!?!

Jack stood and watched this entire train go by…for like 10 minutes. Every time we’d walk up and stand next to him, he’d push us to the other side of the sidewalk and say, “No Mommy! No Daddy!” Mr. Independent. They grow up so fast! What happened to my little baby boy who wanted me around? Looks like I’ll need to have another baby to satisfy my desire to be needed…now if only I could stop eating raw shellfish and drinking alcohol with pickled vegetables submerged in it…

Our only family picture from the trip. John’s got reflections on his glasses, I look bloated, and Jack is deadpan. But whatever, it’s our family—imperfect but happy as all get out. We like it like this.

Jack kept stealing the beignets away from John and saying, “No Daddy!” and then putting the donut back on the plate for him to eat later. He may not have wanted it right now but that didn’t mean that John could have it. Eventually he let John eat one—such a giver, that Jack.

One more day of NOLA fun to come. Stay tuned!

Takin’ it Easy in the Big Easy!

Last week, the Campbell family took a good old fashioned family vacation. A few months ago, John and I decided that we should take advantage of the whole “kids under two fly free” thing before Jack turned two. Luckily, Southwest had a fare sale just a couple weeks later and we were able to score two cheap flights to New Orleans. John has always wanted to see New Orleans and my dear friend Stephanie has lived there for the past few years—we always wanted to get out to see her and now seemed like as good of a time as any. So the Campbells were off to our first vacation as just the three of us!

We landed on Saturday and spent the day walking around the area near our hotel. We found the best sandwich place ever (Cochon Butcher) and took a quick trip to the Gap to find a pair of gloves for Jack.

the pork belly sandwich at Cochon Butcher with cucumber and mint, house made potato chips

the bbq pork sandwich with coleslaw and the best potato salad I’ve ever tasted

Apparently we found the coldest week ever to visit NOLA because we couldn’t find a single pair of gloves…either they were all sold out or NOLA Gaps just don’t have very high demands for baby gloves. Anyhow, we bought some socks and slapped them on Jack’s hands, told him they were mittens, and called it a day. Oh, and then John took the stroller on a too-small escalator and almost killed all of us. Kid you not, it got stuck at the very top of the escalator and we were all trapped. The woman behind us (who started out a ways behind us) suddenly was right on top of me as John and I “climbed stairs” in place while trying our darndest to push the stroller (with our kid in it) off the belt. We are still not 100% sure what happened…the stroller just barely fit and I think when we got to the top, the rubber stroller wheel got caught in the belt. Finally, as the entire mall full of people was up against us saying things like, “Oh no!” and “We’re about to be in some serious trouble here!!!” as John and I pushed with all our might to get the stroller unstuck, the wheel popped off and we were free! John was able to wiggle the wheel out of the belt and we literally ran away as the security guard came to inspect the hijinks. Parents of the year right here! I blame John…I told him I wanted to take the elevator. His exact words were, “Nah, let’s risk it.” Good risk, John.

We woke up the next morning and headed out to the famous Sunday Brunch at Brennan’s. That was truly the best Bloody Mary of my life.

John also enjoyed his libation.

Jack was a big fan of the drinks at Brennans too. His favorite? Agua.

You guys, that’s lump crab meat…with a poached egg on top….drizzled with hollandaise. My pants never fit the same again…

Jack enjoyed his berries and bananas…but what does he know? He was a fan of the free hotel breakfast just as well.

Jack was a treat at Brennan’s…except when he grabbed himself in the middle of breakfast and yelled “MY PEE PEE!!!” at the top of his lungs. I have no idea where he learned that or where it came from…but of all places for it to come out, I’m glad it happened at Brennan’s. Those stuffy people needed to crack a smile.

After brunch, we headed to the Aquarium of the Americas. Jack was a delight—running from one exhibit to the other yelling: “Fishies! SWIMMING!” and “Snake! Sleeping!!” He was SO thrilled to be able to run around and see everything. And we were thrilled to watch him.

There was this cool thing called “Parakeet Pointe” where you could feed the parakeets from this little stick with some seed. Jack wasn’t sure at first. The parakeets were probably not sure at first either. Surely they could sense that John wasn’t good with parakeets.

Eventually he loosened up a bit and before we knew it, he was feeding the birds all by himself.

We eventually tried to leave but I was like freakin’ Cinderella…these birds kept landing on my arms, my shoulder, my hand…they wouldn’t leave me alone. Finally, I gave my stick to some old lady standing nearby and made a bee line for the door. Parakeets are fun, but let’s not fool around: the Campbells aren’t cut out for parakeet ownership. I needed to get out of there before one of them snuck into my diaper bag to come home with us.

Jack took a stroller snooze while we walked to our next destination; Café du Monde. Yeah, those are socks on his hands and a pacifier in his mouth—what of it? You’ll be happy to know that Jack is now paci-free. The morning after we returned home, Jack and I threw away all his pacifiers together and had a discussion about what a big boy he is…I was shocked at how well he did. For a kid hooked on his “meh” he sure was content throwing it in the garbage.

When we woke him up for beignet, he was not a happy camper. Until he tasted the heavenly goodness that awaited him. Then all was right with world.

Seriously? You woke me up for THIS?

Ha ha, this looks funny.

Mmm...this is pretty good.

Maybe I'll just take a little bite….

Holy Buffalo! THIS IS INCREDIBLE!

I need to eat this every day of my life.

Life is good!

Our first full day in New Orleans was a success! Fancy brunch, aquarium and parakeets, stroller nap and French Quarter walk, sugar-covered beignets. Yes, it was a good day. Until the inevitable happened, of course. We ended the day with a quick nap all together in bed. When Jack woke up, he was burning hot. We decided to forego dinner and just order pizza to our room. We spent the rest of the evening trying to keep his fever under control and cleaning up toddler puke. Ah, nothing like a  vacation to get away and relax!