I wanted to blog yesterday, but by the end of the day I was so emotionally exhausted that all I wanted to do was sleep. And I slept for a good 9 hours.
I'm not going to lie, yesterday was the worst day I've had in a long time. Everything started off fine. I was a little nervous about my appointment with my psychologist, as I haven't seen her in a while and I was worried it might be awkward.
To be honest though, what I was most worried about was getting weighed. You see, there's been a lot of pressure from the people around me for me to gain weight. My family puts a lot of pressure on this point, and since there hasn't been any really noticeable progress till now, they were starting to "strongly suggest" hospitalization. So yes, anxiety levels were getting up there, but once I got into my psychologist office I was fine. I honestly forgot how nice she was! I know it's her job and all, but I feel like she's genuinely interested in me. Maybe I'm just an unusual case so I'm interesting. Who knows? In any case we had a good conversation and I felt relaxed afterwards.
Then I had a "hallway hit-up" with my GP, who seems to be the most insensitive person on the planet. We have a semi "nonprofessional" relationship because she's my aunts best friend (I only found this out later, after I had been "referred" to her by my aunt). After discussing "my situation" with my aunt they decided to strongly recommend an ED clinic because of my "lack of progress". For one, this doctor hasn't seen me in a month, so she isn't aware of any progress (or lack of it). For two it's horribly unprofessional of her to discuss my personal medical matters with my aunt.
Well I'm rather upset by this to say the least and then I go to get weighed. Beep - the number reads 3 kg heavier then I was last month. Broken down that doesn't sound bad, but for an ED person that saw that number MUCH lower last time it was shocking. Still, I refused to let myself get too rattled and returned home.
That evening my aunt comes in saying she just got off the phone with my aunt, telling her to convince me to go into IP. She starts telling me this in front of a bunch of people, at the most inappropriate time ever. At that point I just had a panic/depression attack. My last hospitalization was one of the worst experiences of my life, mainly because of a lack of professionalism and competence by the staff there , so it triggered a lot of negative emotions for me. That combined with the "big" weight gain I had nearly put me over the edge.
I tried to talk to my family about it, but no one seemed to understand me and my feelings. I cried till I fell asleep and I woke up still depressed. But then I realized that I need to put the past and fears of IP behind me. I need to use my voice and tell my doctor (as difficult as this may be) that the way she is handling my situation is inappropriate. As far as weight gain, I am more then that number. To be honest I've been at this weight for so long that I've almost come to identify with that number. But gained weight = good. I can't start restricting just because that number was higher. I need to listen to the logical part of my brain that tells me
a) I haven't gained all that weight in a week just because I upped my calorie intake.
b) I will not keep gaining forever till I am obese.
c) This weight gain is not "wasted" just because I might go to IP. Relapsing now won't make things better or keep me out of there.
So I am not going to change a thing with my eating regiment this week, although I get hit with thoughts of "this is too much food" at every turn. This is not too much food, this is what my body needs. This is what gaining weight will give me:
- a prettier, healthier body
- more energy
- warmth (for the freezing months ahead)
- permission to exercise
- general health
- reassurance to the people around me that I am making progress in conquering my ED
- the ability to go to University next year
I need to read this list over and over every time I want to restrict. Limiting my food will do nothing but harm me in the end. These thoughts are only thoughts and it's time to start challenging them. It's time for me to start taking my own advice and living it. This is a test- a test of my dedication to recovery, a test of my inner strength, a test of how I handle anxiety and negative emotions. I will pass this test! I am strong enough. I will smile through my tears and forge ahead.
Strength doesn't always roar, sometimes strength is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow, and never, ever, ever give up".