i haven't wrote aboout my eating disorder for a little while now, however that doesn't mean my issues surrounding my weight/ food have magically disappeared- unfortunately those ed voices inside my head still taunt me on a regular basis...sometimes they influence me more significantly than other times, but for the last couple of months i have mostly been successful at ignorning them...that is until yesterday when three little words sent me into a temporary frenzy.
i had an appointment with my psychiatrist whom i hadn't seen in four weeks. i like NP- he's a little more down to earth than some psychiatrists i've encountered and we get along well. earlier in the year when i spent a solid six months or more refusing to take medication due to overwhelming anxiety that i'd potentially gain weight NP was patient and understanding. every session we'd discuss the benefits of taking an anti-depressant versus the drawbacks and i'd leave agreeing to at least trial something. in the beginning there were a few meds that he urged me to try, however as time passed and i still refused to commit to anything he wasn't as concerned about what brand of SSRI/SNRI i was taking, more that i was actually taking something, anything for longer than a few days (yes i'm the first to admit i'm a difficult patient, but i really don't mean to be). every time i'd return to see him i'd confess that i either hadn't filled the prescription at all or my anxiety had got the better of me and i'd given up on the meds.
finally, after an enormous amount of reassurance i found the courage deep within to start taking the medication properly and have done so for the last ten weeks or so now. the weight issue has still played on my mind and i've been tempted to discontinue the treatment as i've done numerous times before but have stuck it out for the sake of my sanity and quality of life.
during my worst ed phases (which may last for only days or weeks on end) my scales are basically glued to the bottom of my feet. i weigh myself up to seven or eight times per day- first thing in the morning, after eating or drinking, after going to the toilet and last thing at night. i realise this is madness, but in some warped way constantly weighing myself defuses my anxiety and provides me with a sense of control. i've been relieved to see that thus far the anti-depressants haven't negatively affected my weight. of course the number fluctuates 1-2kgs throughout the course of a month due to my hormones etc, and during the period of time i was pregnant i seemed to be quite bloated, but overall i still weigh the same as i did several months ago which has caused me to become increasingly lax with my daily weighing rituals. in fact, until yesterday i hadn't weighed myself in a fortnight or so which is some kind of record for me.
for anyone suffering from an ed, certain 'things' may trigger obsessive thoughts, self-loathing, destructive behaviour etc. for me one of these triggers is being told any variation of "you're looking well". now please understand that the logical rhiannon knows that receiving a comment of this nature is usually meant as a compliment not a criticism, however the ed rhiannon automatically associates looking well with weight gain. upon entering NP's consulting room yesterday, one of the first things he uttered was "you're looking well, rhiannon". perhaps it was the fact that i actually applied a full face of makeup when i usually attend psych appointments looking like death, or perhaps it was the light bronze shade i have turned from sitting out in the sun lately-i don't know, his comment could have been based on a number of observations, however, my mind immediately started to jump to conclusions that he must think my frame is starting to look fuller...healthy...fat.
over the course of an hour we discussed my progress and what my goals are for the coming year etc, but not my weight. i struggled to pay him my full attention because all i could think about was how much i was itching to get home and jump on those scales to ensure that i hadn't gained and his comment was based on something other than my figure.
sure enough the first thing i did once safely home was weigh myself. i stepped on those dreaded scales silently repeating to myself "please be light, please be light" but expecting to see the worst. to my surprise the dial read dead on 50kgs- i hadn't gained, thank god. relief washed over me and my mind was at ease once again. it's moments like these that emphasise to me just how much of a grip my ed has on me, despite at times fading into the background. it's crazy that a number on a set of scales can dictate my anxiety level, mood and self-esteem.
in other news, tomorrow i have to attend a family lunch for my nonno's 80th birthday. it's being held at a local restaurant and not only will my immediate family be there but extended family too. this will be the first time i've attended a family event since april- throughout winter i was too sick to go out and tried to avoid people at all costs. i'm quite nervous as i don't really want to engage in conversation about my current state with relatives i hardly see and i'm pretty ashamed that i'm not doing anything productive with myself right now. luckily B will be there with me for support and i can always count on my younger sister to calm my nerves with her sense of humour which is nothing short of hilarious.
