Years ago, I read Marya Hornbacher's memoir, Wasted, about her experiences with anorexia and bulimia. It's the sort of book that makes you really want to avoid developing an eating disorder. She's a very good writer, and I'd recommend her work simply because of that, but I'd also recommend it because it's an important story to read. Sometimes, having read her story was one of the things that kept me from going off the deep end when I was in the darker parts of my depression.
Depression isn't as much of a problem right now as it has been in the past. I've gotten off my medication because I'm pregnant, and the anticipated problems with stopping the medication didn't happen, which was a really great thing. But I've been remembering Wasted recently, because morning sickness has been enough to put me off vomiting for life. I finally caved yesterday and got the prescription for an anti-nausea drug filled. It doesn't help completely, but at least I'm no longer throwing up everything I eat or drink. Just some of it. That's a lot better than what was happening yesterday, when I couldn't even keep water down. I keep telling myself this has to be worth it, but at this point, I think childbirth sounds better than pregnancy. At least labour doesn't last nine months. Unless pregnancy suddenly changes, I'm probably not going to be one of those women who wax lyrical about how wonderful and magical pregnancy is. If someone tries to tell me that right now, I'll probably feel like punching them (although I would refrain, since this is Canada).
This was supposed to be going somewhere. Oh, yes. One thing Hornbacher mentions is the way being deprived of food makes you obsess about it. My being sick is about the cocktail of hormones bouncing around my system, rather than the complex reasons that might drive me to an eating disorder, but I have not been exempt to thinking about food. I'll be lying in bed, falling asleep, and suddenly think, despite the nausea, "I want a doughnut!" Or I spend a while looking at recipes on Pinterest. Or wishing I felt well enough to bake the chocolate chip cookies I want to eat, but know won't go over so well.
There are things I plan to make once my stomach settles. I want to learn how to make pho, and there're a couple desserts I've been longing to try. I even found a recipe for Beef Kimbap, which is one of the Korean versions of sushi (or sushi is the Japanese version of kimbap--people aren't really sure). And it is sushi I'm allowed to eat--everything in it is cooked. That's one of the things I miss most, really. I like alcohol, but it's easier to cut that out. Alcohol's expensive and it tended to interact with my anti-depressants to make me even more prone to drowsiness and sleep disturbance, so I didn't have it often before I was pregnant. But it's hard to say goodbye to sushi until after the baby's born, because I feel that fish tastes best when it is raw. And there are at least half-a-dozen good sushi places within an easy walking distance of our home (i.e., several blocks). More sushi places than Starbucks, and there are a lot of Starbucks around here. After we went to go see The Hobbit on Saturday, we went for sushi, because I hadn't eaten in hours (that's a long movie, and I'd been sick beforehand). I got teriyaki, and J. got sushi. I did eat a couple of his California rolls--those are okay--but I've been craving sashimi, and my plan is, once I'm able to manage a dinner out after the baby's born (or failing that, we'll do take-out), I'll get a chirashi-don from our favourite sushi place. Nothing but rice topped with lots of fish.
In the meantime, in the absence of some of my favourite foods, I'm making blueberry muffins. I'm using this recipe, which looks fantastic, so now I need to go to the store for buttermilk.