Juggling Life

A Surefire Way to Incite my Ire

I am part of a Facebook support group, Mothers Against Eating Disorders; it is a powerful community of empathetic and educated women. It was someone on that page that put this article, A Surefire Way to Give your Kid an Eating Disorder on my radar. The author is a total idiot and self-promoter who also happens to be a Licensed Clinical Social Worker which means that there are likely people who think she knows what she's talking about. She does not.

I don't mind when people I meet only possess erroneous information about eating disorders. That was me before I got educated. So, no problem, I am happy to educate you. I am honored to educate you.

But this therapist is rehashing old, disproven, tired tropes and people may be harmed by listening to her rather than getting evidence-based treatment.

I never did one single thing on her list of "surefire ways to give your kid an eating disorder." My family has been certified happy, healthy, loving, supportive and eminently functional by multiple clinicans. Sure kids with eating disorders come from parents and home like the ones she describes; that's because kids with eating disorders come from all different types of families. 

As was eloquently asked in the comments of that post, would a person DARE to write an article about surefire ways to give your kid cancer?  Absolutely not. Even though some kids with cancer have horrible parents and terrible home lives.

Correlation does not equal causation. It's science. Michelle Lewis, LCSW ought to investigate it.

 

 

Time Warp Tuesday: It is still Tuesday, right?

Late posting on this one because I was enjoying a farewell dinner for Bugs, who is off to Denmark for a semester abroad. All the young people at the table have jobs in the food-service industry, so the stories were wicked funny. Still chuckling over Bear having to bite her tongue to not reply, "Pardon me for assuming you were literate" when a customer asked how he was supposed to know that the dish advertised as spicy would be spicy. Everyone should work with the public at least once in their lives--it really does give you perspective.

This week hop over to see Janet, Heidi, Gary, and Karen. Special thanks to Karen for inspiring my photo choices for this week. Since time has been short, I asked Social Butterfly to snap these pics--they're in a large room-divider type frame, one on top of the other.

My boys were born in the early nineties, when bicycle shorts were all the rage. I think they both looked adorable in this outfit and bald is really a look that works for a baby :)

 

MVP (with Mr. Fix-it), circa 1990

 

 

Danger Boy, Circa 1993

 

 

 

 

Keeping Calm and Carrying On, You?

I am operating at about 80% full health. I really need to exercise and tomorrow may be the day I do it. Or maybe not. We'll see. 

Social Butterfly is doing well; she's certainly eating great, though it looks like we're going to have do the same major-calories-per-day routine we did before to put back on that lost weight. 3,500 calories a day is only fun if you're on vacation and it involves two margaritas and a piece of chocolate cake (stop me if you've heard that one before).

I had a lovely night in Thursday night--Indian takeout and Champagne--with OMomK Thursday night, so that was fun.

I have been taking on small-to-medium projects having to do with our upcoming accreditation visit (Monday and Tuesday). Corporate was a bit behind getting the draft catalog for this year to us, so it needed to be proofed against the syllabi and the big boss (wisely) thought I would be perfect for that job and asked nicely and offered to pay OT, so of course I said yes. I'm fairly sure nobody thought it would take 12 hours, but then I'm not sure they are used to my level of proofreading. In fact I know they're not because a few people were slack-jawed as the read my corrections. "P. 74 VN103 Sentence 3: unneeded comma after the word perform. P. 74 VN104 Sentence 4: Course catalog says perform while syllabus says performs." I left work at 10:35 p.m. exhausted, half-blind and with that weird starving, but not really hungry feeling that comes of having eating Chex mix and Reese's peanut butter cups for supper.

My sister-in-law from Minnesota has been trying to get to San Diego since the wee hours of this morning because a family friend that was more like a grandfather to her passed away (not unexpectedly, but still sad) and finally, with weather delays, mechanical failures and who knows what else it became apparent Los Angeles was as far as she was going to get today, so her brother (not hubs, but another one) is going to get her tonight as he's an hour closer to L.A. than we are. Mr. Fix-it will bring her south in the morning. While I feel her pain, it has been somewhat entertaining to watch this Planes, Trains and Automoblies experience unfold on Facebook. Not so much if you're living it, I'm sure.

Mr. Fix-it came home from Salt Lake City under the weather himself and I hope we're not in vicious pass-it-back-and-forth cycle, cause I really don't feel like going down again. Plus, we are getting way behind on our movie viewing and the Oscars are on the way.

That's my week in review; I've got bigger, more existential thoughts swirling, but I'm still too tired to write-write. 

 

 

 

 

Time Warp Tuesday: Let's Do this Thing!

I'm getting back in the swing today, no matter what. Karen, Gary, Susan, Heidi (she's a twofer as I didn't do it last week) and Navhelowife are all in, too.

This week's photo is from a vacation that was so long ago that even I look like a kid in the picture!

 

Mammoth Lakes Vacay, Summer 1997

 Things this picture makes me think of:

That baby is in eight grade. Eighth grade! WTH? 

A week might just be one day too long for three different families to spend in one condo. 

We had a blast most of the time and I'm sure glad we did it. 

One of the men in this picture turned out to be a douchebag of epic proportions; If we had know then what we know now, I thinking his ex-wife and I would have gone a little Dixie Chick's Earl on his ass.

If you bring a city girl from Jersey into a hiking situation, you'll want to warn her that while body powder might make you feel less glow-y in the heat, it will also attract every biting, stinging insect in the woods.

When people pick up this photo for a closer look, they almost always ask, "Is Social Butterfly . . . naked?"

Why yes, she is sans clothing. We were all packed up and ready to go and there was an unfortunate situation with a fudgsicle or push-up. After all, who really needs close when they're just going to be sitting in the car for the next six hours. 

I picked this photo today because I just got home from a great old-friends-catching-up night out with the guy in this photo that was not the douchebag. He and his wife are planning a move back to San Diego and I am thrilled. So. Many. Good. Times. 

Why it takes a visitor from Ohio to compel me to get down to the beach and sip a cocktail while watching the sunset, I do not know.

 

We Can Haz Flexibility: A (Still Amazingly Hopeful) Social Butterfly Update

I need to preface this by saying everything I said last Sunday was true and some of it may have been prescient.

This? Is ALSO what recovery looks like.

On Saturday morning, I woke up to this text.

I texted back, she called, we talked.

Her analysis of what happened is that she got so comfortable with food and enjoying it that the anorexic thoughts came rushing back with a vengeance.  It started happening as she checked her bags to go back to school last Sunday. She's been eating 1,000 calories a day and lost 3 lbs. 

She told us. SHE TOLD US! 

She decided she needed to come home and I concurred. As she said, "If I am at home, knowing that you will make me eat will make it easy for me to decide to eat. I need that right now." We discussed when and concluded there was no time like the present.

By 7 a.m., I was shaking Mr. Fix-it awake. "Honey, honey, wake up. I'll explain later, but go take a shower. You need to drive to Flagstaff and bring Social Butterfly home."

Bless that man, he was on the road in 45 minutes. They got home in the early wee hours of Sunday and the picture above was what I saw in the morning. 

Because the semester just started we should not have to pay tuition and I'm hopeful on the housing. She was going to pick her ski pass today, so I might even be able to get them to roll it over to next year. 

The great news is that she recognized what she needed and was brave enough to ask for it. It truly is all anyone can want from someone in recovery--and, really, something more people in the world should do.

None of us are worried about her taking a semester off--it's a medical emergency, she'll go back, and since she started kindergarten at 4 years old, she's not even going to end up behind her peers.

The biggest thing I was worried about was how she would fill her time (she will start with a therapist and maybe a group, but that's a couple of hours a week max). She texted her former employer this morning with her availability to work and she went to work from 2-8 today. The local community college starts on 1/28 and has barely any open courses, but they do have Physical Anthropology and it's in the morning, so it won't even infringe on her work schedule. 

I know there are some that would look on this as a failure of some sort, or sad, but I really consider it an amazing success and while there is some bittersweet as far as her not finishing the year at NAU, c'est la vie. It will all be fine in the end. It will be better than fine.

 

 

 

From Bad to Worse to Really Awful

I started the week under the weather and proceeded to develop really terrible cold symptoms. It's just a cold, but seriously? During the holidays when work was slow and Grownup Girl and Mr. Fix-it were down for the count, I was healthy as can be. This week, with a new class starting, three days with students and accreditation looming, was just not good timing. Though the doctor's appointment I already had was well-timed since I was able to get a nice supply of Robitussin with codeiene. Let's not talk about the fact that that doctor's visit resulted in a colonscopy order. Oy. Story for another day. 

That opening paragraph was because I couldn't lead with the really awful. It turns out there is also no way to transition to the really awful.

I had a student who dropped from my program some months ago and was set to re-enter on Tuesday. He was a very smart and very troubled young man--a former Marine who suffered from PTSD. His interest in my program was solely to allow him to access his GI bill--specifcally the housing allowance. He was very frank about that. In his first go-round his attendance and academic performance were such that he was dropped.

I was vocally, vociferiously against having him come back to my program. Because we are a place that believes in second chances (which I think is a very good thing in general), I was overruled. It was no secret that I was upset, but I also had accepted that he was coming back because what are you going to do? You make your concerns known and then you play the hand you're dealt.

Still, when he didn't show up on the appointed day, I was not only relieved, but happy. All the problems I anticipated his presence in my class, my program and my life (I foresaw a serious ethical dilemma for myself when it came to placing him on an internship site) evaporated. In my typical aforementioned vocal and vociferous style I expressed my pleasure, with maybe a hint of I was right about all the issues I'd raised. 

That was Tuesday. I gave him no further thought until a former student who was a close friend of that young man called me Thursday afternoon to let me know his friend had killed himself two days earlier.

Yes, right about the time I was congratulating myself on having dodged a bullet, he was using a bullet to end his troubled, tragic, oh-so-young-still life.

Where am I with this?

Sad, oh-so-sad.

I know that all my reasons for fighting against his reentry were correct (and, in fact, verified by the suicide) and as others have pointed out, who knows what might have happened in terms of other students if someone with that level of instability and access to a firearm had come to school.

Still.

What I am struggling with is that in all my thoughts about this student, I gave short shrift to his pain and the origins of the behaviors with which I had issues. My focus was on how his actions would affect me and the other students. 

This was not my finest moment as a human being and I regret that. 

 

 

 

 

Social Butterfly: An (Amazingly Hopeful) Update

It is astonishing to realize that almost one year to the day (I'm thinking off by about a week), Mr. Fix-it, Social Butterfly and I were in Flagstaff, looking at Northern Arizona University. I'd been taking SB to the doctor because she was having stomach problems and the doctor was thinking it might be lactose intolerance, but she'd also just started her on Prevacid to cover all the bases. I chose a restaurant for dinner that was an upscale healthy pizza place because they also had gourmet salads.

SB had a meltdown at the table--she purported being angry with me for picking a pizza place because of the lactose intolerance issue--over choosing something to order. I pointed out salad after salad after salad that seemed like healthy options she would enjoy. She finally stormed out of the restaurant to go sit in the car. Tired after an 8-hour drive and peeved that we were in the midst of dropping $60 on what was supposed to be a relaxing and delicious meal, but had turned into we-had-no-idea-what, we gave the waiter the distinct impression we were a very unhappy, dysfunctional family. Mr. Fix-it point blank said, "She has an eating disorder," while I allowed that it seemed to be heading that way, but maybe we could pull her back.

I ended up driving to her to the Subway across the road for turkey sub while he settled the bill. I remember telling her, "Your dad thinks you're anorexic; I'm not sure that's true, but you'd better get a grip on eating enough and without all this drama or you will end up that way." The rest of the weekend was enjoyable on the surface, but with an undercurrent of us watching every bite that went into her mouth and her eating just because she knew the sh*t would hit the fan if she didn't.

The next few weeks were a steady and rapid descent into full-blown anorexia and the social withdrawal that accompanies an eating disorder, but thankfully also with lots of doctor's visits to a pediatrician who knows both ED and teenagers and was prepared to be a fierce advocate for us with our insurance, culminating in SB's admittance to the world-renowned UCSD Eating Disorder Treatment Program.

For our part, Mr. Fix-it and I followed a thought process evolution that went like this:

1. Clearly she has a problem; We caught it early, so we'll be fine.
2.  Treatment, absolutely--having caught it so early we'll likely do some outpatient therapy type of treatment--maybe a few nights a week.
3.  Okay, I can see from the website that's not an option, but sure 1/2 days, 5 days a week, we can make that work.
4.  You want to put her in the Partial Hospitilization Program--all day 6 days a week? Good idea--let's do intensive so she only has to miss two or three weeks of school.
5. Thank the universe we are here; early diagnosis or not, ED is a disease that can kill our child, we will stay here as long as we can because this program is giving all of us the tools to save our daughter's life.

It was four months that she was in the program. She never went back to high school. 

Today, she leaves to begin her second semester of college (she's majoring in psychology and women's studies and plans to be a therapist). She maintains her weight independently. She uses all the tools she has (including both medication and her Dialectical Behavioral Therapy Skills) to cope with the anxiety she still sometimes has. The last month has seen her anorexic thinking retreat further and further as she has begun to eat intuitively (something I wasn't even remotely interested in pushing her to do as I felt that her eating what she needed to to keep her weight up was enough, thank you very much) and her social life is as bustling as ever, filled with old friends and new. 

In what was such a full-circle moment that if it were part of a movie plot I would have labeled it predictable and scoffed at the screenwriter's lack of imagination, last night SB suggested a night-before-going-back-to-college farewell dinner at the Mexican restaurant that has been our favorite family restaurant for our entire marriage. 

We all partook of the piping hot chips and outstanding salsa that make the restuarant a local favorite. We discussed how the food was just greasy enough to be delicious, but not so greasy as to be disgusting. We acknowledged it wouldn't be healthy to eat like this every night, but it was just the thing for an occsasional celebratory indulgence. We recognized food for all that it is to people--both nourishment for the body and a social experience that reconnects us with friends and family. We enjoyed our food and each other in the relaxing way that is the reason people go out to eat. It was at once just a regular dinner and yet at the same time so much more--it was a watershed moment.

Please don't take this post to mean I think this journey is over--it is my belief that the road of recovery is one that SB will walk for a long time and possible the rest of her life. This is not a book where you turn the last page and pronounce yourself finished--it is a volume where you way well need to find yourself re-reading Chapter 2 several times over the course of your life. It may be put on a shelf for so long that you think you won't ever look at it again, and one day you find it in your hands. 

My picture of recovery--from anything--is not that you expect to be done for good with whatever it is you're recovering from, but that you are dealing positively and healthfully with your issues and you are leading the life you want to leave. For those that see hopelessness in that, I can only say that I believe--with the experience and wisdom of (almost) a half-century of living--every single person on this Earth has some struggle--whether it shows to the rest of the world or not. 

I share our story for many reasons--the biggest one being that I believe secrecy and shame are tied together in a way that increases suffering and prevents healing. I also hope that our story is told and shared by anyone that reads this blog and sees a family member or friend that they think might have an eating disorder and is able to highlight the message that early intervention--versus denial, minimizing or a wait-and-see attitude--is powerful beyond measure.

If you saw your child drowning in a rip current, you wouldn't wait to see if they could swim out on their own, you would call for lifeguards and do all you could to pull them out--and anyone that has ever taken their child to the beach knows that you don't sit on the sand with your nose in a book while they swim; you watch, ever-vigilant because you are the parent and it is your job to keep your child safe.*

 

Social Butterfly on a hike with Mr. Fix-it, January 11, 2103

 

I am happy to speak with anyone directly about ED and am a master-googler who can help you find resources in your area if you are feeling there is nowhere to turn. Clearly, I'm not a professional, but I am a mother who knows how to get things done :) My email address is jennatjugglinglife@gmail.com.

 

 

*Please know this is not an indictment if, for whatever reason, you did not get your child help immediately or if your parents were not able to get you help. This is a message that looks forward to how I hope ED can be destigmatized and people--parents, teachers, doctors--can become educated on how to proceed. Wherever your are in the process of your recovery or getting help or helping your child, I send you positive vibes from the depths of my heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good Times, Indeed

 

I am about to hop in the shower as the party prep takes place downstairs. The young people are downstairs working right now. One very cool thing is that it appears that in this generation, real men do help with party prep (my husband always has, but he was the oldest of five and the second-in-command to a mother who [like the woman he married] has definite standards for housekeeping).

I will update this with pictures after the party. I'm very excited!

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The Pinup Girl was amazing. The theme of the party was "chemistry"--so perfect for a chem major/pharmacist. In addition to the cupcakes being the periodic table of the elements, she used GuG's textbooks and papers in the decor. My house has never looked this good. The food was simple, but delicious--mini quiches and caprese crostini and for drinks, Champagne with sparkling juices. The games were great fun and not too-showerish if you know what I mean.

It was great fun to see some girls I have not seen in years--they've all been out of high school for almost 10 years. Two of my mother's best friends were present. I can't tell you what that means to me.  

GuG with 3/5 of the bridal party--her half-sister, Social Butterfly and the Pinup Girl. Fun Fact: If you average her sister's and SB's height, that number will be a smidge over 5'll.

GuG's stepmother made the ballcap veil which went perfectly with the Br-I-De lab coat TPG designed--and thank goodness TPG put me out of my misery as I was wracking my brain trying to think of what element "De" could be; she had to take some poetic license on that one.

 

Of course there were presents. GuG's grandmother attached a gift card to a plate that belonged to her great-grandmother--cool idea, no?

This is my very favorite photo of the day. My eyes tear up every time I even think about it. It's been a long time in the making. 

Bear, Bugs, Me, OMomK, SB, GuG--together for the first time in three years. It feels good. Very good.

Ginger and Maryann aka Bear and Social Butterfly

This photo? Kind of takes my breath away. Oh, TWO, you are so missed.

So that was the party. After the party? The after-party, natch.

OMomK keeps a close eye on Mr. Fix-it's pour. This man deserves a medal for always being willing to make one more Chandon run. Seriously.

SB even changed into her New Year's Eve party dress. No idea who or what I am hailing so enthusiastically.

Yes, we did indeed raise the roof. Also? Shorty got low, low, low. I highly recommend Pandora's Kelis Milkshake station if you are in the mood to get jiggy with it. It is a testament to the power of caffeine, extra-strength Tylenol and a flexible arrival time (thank you, universe, for no students today) that I made it to work. As I said on Facebook, I was seriously channeling The Little Engine that Could.

As if all of this was not enough good news, Grownup Girl found out today that her school found a rotation for her in Chicago, so the master plan remains intact. Lest you think as you look at these photos, "She doesn't look in that much pain to me," that is, in fact, a Percocet smile on her lovely face. 

Thank you bloggy peeps for all the good juju you sent. I am convinced it makes a difference. To the readers (yes, plural) that emailed an offer of a place to stay and someone to look out for GuG if she did have to make that Montana drive--you are good people. Thank you so much. To the rest of you--thank you for sharing in my joy. My heart is indeed full.

To The Pinup Girl and Grownup Girl--that tipsy offer of unlimited free babysitting in a few years? It still stands in the sober light of day :)

 

 

 

 

In Sickness? Check.

This holiday season has been generally jolly; we're winding down and getting ready, over the course of the next week to send everyone back from whence they came. It will definitely be bittersweet with a dollop of "my house will be clutter-free to my borderline-OCD standards all the time now!".

Tomorrow is Grownup Girl's San Diego bridal shower. The Pinup Girl is hosting, but at my house as she lives in a studio apartment. All I had to do was make sure the house was clean, so I am very looking forward to the party. GuG's family from her biological dad's side will be there and it is not very often that everyone gets together; as you can imagine, it's complicated--though less so since GuG is an adult.

OMomK and her girls will be here as well as a friend of my mother's who has known GuG her whole life--thank you Facebook for making it so easy for us to stay connected. 

That's the good news. 

The not-so-good news is that GuG got very sick several weeks ago--bad cold accompanied by a terrible cough. She went to the Minute Clinic once and got codeine for the cough, but they gave her a pitiably small amount and even though her mother told her to go in again and get more  and she still had the cough when it ran out. This was no polite cough, it was more a body-wracking event. It was, in fact, a rib-cracking cough. Eventually she did go back and got more codeine--as well as all sorts of antibiotics, some Percocet and an offer of morphine, but the damage was done. To add additional suckage to this turn of events, she finished paying her 2012 insurance deductible on 12/28 and was back at urgent care in the new year working on the 2013 deductible. Sigh.

The silver lining was that because it was a school break, she got a few days to spend in bed in a drugged-out haze. She went back to work today (albeit with Grownup Guy as a driver) because if she doesn't finish her hours she doesn't get her doctorate.

The worse bad news is that she is supposed to fly to Chicago and then drive to Montana and spend two months on an Indian reservation doing her ambulatory pharmacy rotation. All of us, plus the doctor, are skeptical about that being possible what with all the ice-scraping that happens in the dead of winter in Montana. We have fingers crossed (and wouldn't mind a little blogger juju and good thoughts sent our way) that the school will find her a replacement rotation in Chicago--where they have public transportation and she will have a fiance to scrape ice if necessary.

There is a Plan C if the above doesn't work out, but one thing DBT taught me (and if I can learn this, anybody can) is that there is no point in worrying about Plan C until you find out if Plan B is viable. 

I'll let you know how it turns out.

 

 

 

 

Ya' Think?

It's an annual tradition for the past few years that I take my stepsister, Teeny, for dinner and a movie for her birthday sometime over the holidays--her birthday is December 26. The last three years she's driven down here and spent the night. We both look forward to it and sometimes one or both of the girls join us.

Teeny has just finished going through a horrible divorce from a very big jerk.  A cut off your nose to spite your face kind of jerk. Anyway, that is behind her now and she is going to school almost full-time, working part-time and she's doing it with lupus. Yes, I'm damn proud of her. Her goal is to be a Physician's Assistant.

Saturday night we did a little shoe shopping, ate California Pizza Kitchen with Social Butterfly and saw Les Mis. Sunday was cold and rainy and she was more than delighted to spend a relaxed day snuggled in a blanket with her laptop and our high-speed wi-fi while I took down Christmas.

I was in the kitchen making chili (if you missed my PSA on Facebook, contact lens wearers should not chop jalapenos without gloves) when she started telling him about this guy from high school who was her FB friend and had invited her skiing, but she didn't know and what did I think and boy, he had aged well although he had always been a pretty boy.

I came out of the kitchen to look at his profile pic.

This is "aged well" at 46. Ya' think?!

Well, if you're not interested, I said, I can guarantee you I've got a couple of friends who would be more than happy to give him a shot.

Ya' think?!