I was driving down a few towns tonight to hang out with C (the best friend). In traffic it takes about an hour to get here from my house. Lately I've been having a lot of anxiety before I see her because I know she's watching. I'm afraid she's trying to evaluate me and how I'm doing. It's a double edge sword because as I was getting dressed to come, it was quite the task choosing the right outfit for my night in with my best friend, I found myself scared that she would look at me and think I was losing weight and that I wasn't doing well. But I was also scared that she wouldn't be worried, which would mean I wasn't getting thinner, which in essence to me means I'm fat. I think that's the hardest part right now is that I don't want anyone to worry but I want to be thin enough to warrant worry. I hate thinking about what people would think if they knew I was ED... "She doesn't look like she has an eating disorder." The idea of it kills me.
I stress the most about C because she's the only friend who's ever cut me off because of my eating disorder and the only one I can't fool. It was two years ago when I relapsed after doing really well for quite a while. I've been EDNOS since about the age of 13. It's pretty much accepted by all psychological professionals that have worked with me that I've never been normal about food. So pretty much I'm a lifer. I don't think my psychologist or psychiatrist have much hope that I'll fully recover. I think they at most hope to help me get better and not get worse (currently my psychologist thinks my ED is getting out of control again). Almost three years ago I relapsed into severe anorexic behaviors with bulimia as a crutch. I went from about 130 to 95 in two months. I'm 5'0'' so 95 is actually within my normal/healthy weight range (though the lower end) and I did medically need to lose a little weight (though my methods are not well received). It was mainly the drastic change that messed everything up.
If I hadn't let myself get fat then things would have been different. I've always been best at hiding my restriction. But as it was, everyone close to me knew what was up. Really I was a mess, I admit it. I was in a severe depression cycle and binge drinking all the time and virtually not eating or sleeping. A perfect recipe for crazy. C felt backed into a corner and in her frustration and worry about not being able to help me (because I would need to want help for that to work) she decided that just going on business as usual was enabling me (thanks BA in psych). So she basically said get help or you're cut off. We didn't speak f0r like 3 months.
I don't think she ever expected me to choose the ED... I did. I probably always will. I'm better at putting up a front of recovering now though. I'm working on it. That's what I tell everyone and it keeps everyone off my back. I'm 105 now and was at 115 a few months ago. I really let myself plump again. Eyebrows are raised because the loss was noticed; every loss is noticed now. But no one can really say anything because I'm not actually under weight. And I am going to therapy.
I'm going to a lot of therapy, for me. I see my psychiatrist once every two months. I take my meds for migraines, depression, anxiety, and sleep like I'm directed and am learning how to express my feelings and to accept having feelings in the first place. The last appointment went badly. I lost ten pounds between sessions. She noticed. It was uncomfortable enough to send me researching the criteria to commit someone. I feel like she was evaluating me and considering it. I'm pretty sure I'd have to be like 80 pounds for a judge to rule in her favor though. I actually like her pretty well other than our rough last meeting. She's smart which is rare in this field. I can't tell you how many therapist I've had that I was not only in general significantly more intelligent but also specifically in the area of psychology and I only have my bachelors in Psych.
I see S twice a month. She's my psychologist and the first one I've ever actually liked. Well there was that one in college but she was a grad student and I probably liked her because we never talked about the ED. That wasn't because she was a bad therapist, but because I was having suicidal thoughts and that pretty much put all other issues to the side. S is good though. I'm very uncomfortable still even though she's good at her job. I hate going. I go because honestly it's the only thing that keeps everyone out of my hair. I'm not really going to get better. I hope one day I'll want to get better.
I can't put into words how I feel when I make it through the day without eating anything. It shouldn't make me feel this good but it does. And so it makes me feel like shit when I do eat. And then I purge which I hate, but it's the crutch I don't think I could ever let go of. I love anorexia and hate bulimia, but I could stop starving... I can't stop purging. I can't be full. It physically makes me uncomfortable. It's all I can think about until I get it out. I can't work, read, watch TV, carry on a conversation. All I can think about is how much I need to get rid of the food. I don't binge. Not by definition. To me any meal is a binge. I ate a hot dog from the cafeteria at lunch today because kids were in my room and I don't want them to see me not eat. I purged it a couple hours later at the first chance I had. It was too much. How pathetic is that? Teacher running to a bathroom to throw up a hot dog...
I hate the bulimia. I want it gone, but I really don't think I will ever get rid of it for good. And this fact makes me very sad. I could stop restricting, but I don't want to. I love it and I need it. I weigh 105 and it's too much. I need an inch off my arms, two at least off my waist, and like three off my hips/butt. At least down to 95. I think I could be happy at 95...
This is the other reason I was near an anxiety attack on my drive to C's. I was rehearsing in my head what I would say if/when she asked me how things were going. I thought I'd tell her therapy was still hard. That I was not looking forward to January's visit with the shrink after our last run in. And I was going to throw in the fact that S put her foot down and is insisting on a dietitian in January. She's been pushing it since June. Reading between the lines, I'm out of excuses with grad school being done next week and I don't think she'll keep seeing me long if I don't start going. This is actually a good pacifying fact for friends. It sent me into panic when I thought about the reality of going.
I can't see a dietitian. I'm not done losing weight. She'll make a meal plan and I can't follow it. I hate not following the rules and feeling like I'm failing. I'm setting myself up for failure. I don't want to go. But finding a new therapist sucks so much...
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