June 13, 2016: I wrote this 5 months ago. Right before I went on this hiatus I have been on for most of the year. And this, this is why……….
Let’s be honest. Right now I could give two shits less about anything. I am only writing to process all of this crap in my mind. Wednesday the 6th , I went in for my usual med check. My psychiatrist noticed my weight and asked me about it. I said I didn’t think much of it. He said I’m underweight.
Then he asked if I saw fat when I looked in the mirror, and if I were smart I would have lied, but I answered in the affirmative….Because I try to refrain from lying…..And I am not smart; apparently. He told me I have an eating disorder.: That I am sick and starving.
Then while I was gone, he apparently shared his concern with my therapist who, upon my return, asked me all sorts of questions about binging and if I had ever been around anyone who binged or binged myself with or without purging.
Ugh. Like I would ever intentionally vomit. Granted, I’ve thought about it, but I’m too much of a puke-a-phobe (technically called emetophobic, for inquiring minds).
I never thought I was bad off. I eat. I mean, I eat. A lot sometimes. Yea, I know my body image is distorted, but too much? I have a fear of gaining weight. I have a fear of being fat, but enough to have an eating disorder? I don’t think so. Well, I didn’t think so. It’s all becoming so reminiscent of that one time, at the psych hospital, where they told me I have Bipolar I Disorder and I told them only crazy people are bipolar.
Shit. Only stupid people get caught. Only stupid people let their weight get so low as to worry their healthcare providers. I do not have an eating disorder.
That’s where I’m at. I did some research on the physical effects of eating disorders. I called and got my last lab results for insurance purposes, so I looked those over too. They are all within normal range. Of course, I had those done December 1 and I cannot remember what I actually weighed then. But whose counting? I weighed myself this morning, twice, and both times 125 lbs came up. I weighed myself tonight and got 125.4 lbs. So I know I’m down to 125. Normally I would be super excited! I’ve waited a long time to weigh this much.
Only took a 6 week binge on Mania and subsequent depression and anxiety to bring forth whatever disordered eating tendencies were lurking below the surface…Go me!
I mean, WTF. Who says that shit?
I told my therapist that I am fine and would not be ready for treatment until I weighed at least 118 lbs because that is what I weighed when I married my husband….heeeeyyy…. speaking of that, I wonder if I could fit into my wedding dress again!? Probably not.
Honestly people, now that I look at it, I may have to concede that I might have an eating disorder. I see physical effects starting to mount and I am so tired of feeling sick all the time. ALLLLL THE TIME. I really thought there must be something wrong with me physically and maybe I need to go to the doctor because I am losing weight; because I cannot eat more than three or four bites without gagging; because I am cold all the time…like shivering violently cold….like I sit in front of a space heater every waking moment that I am not in my impossibly hot car or in the hot shower; because I have lost any amount of boob I once had; because I have more hair growing on my face than I think should be there; because my heart flutters oddly in my chest at random times and I catch it racing when I am just sitting. Because everything makes me nauseous.
And because although I can see my collar bones all the time and my tendons in my neck and my ribcage and hipbones… I still see fat: in my arms, around my thighs and bottom, in my mid-drift. I see fat under my chin and even some in my face. I still feel fat and overweight. I still have this urge to lose more weight, to see how far down I can go. I hate food. I hate the hungry feeling a little more though, so I eat, until it abates; or I drink something, preferably hot, because that seems more filling.
I told my husband and my boss. Both of them said, “Just eat”. Okay. My hubby told me that he was going to make me cook from now on. I said fine. But I still cannot bring myself to eat very much. It just makes me want to gag. Even now, I can tell I need to go eat something because I am beginning to feel weak and nauseous but nothing sounds good.
Maybe this is a self-loathing behavior. It is definitely self-defeating. Whatever it is, I’m so over it right now.
June 13, 2016:
I’ve debated being open about all of this because honestly, I’m still not sure I accept that I have this disease. I’m still not convinced that I am that sick. I spent March and April in a treatment facility in Denver, Colorado, but we fought insurance the whole time I was there so instead of being able to completely focus on my health, I worried about how much time I had left and whether or not each day was going to be my last. I did learn some things about this disease, but I have found it impossibly hard to apply these facts to myself and to learn from them.
It doesn’t help that I fell off the band wagon finally with the mania thing and kept falling right off a cliff into the deepest depression I’ve experienced in many a year. I’ll take the raving mania over the sour depression I’m experiencing any day. It is slowly getting better. It feels like two steps forward, four steps back some days, but I am not as bad off as I was a month ago. It has literally been crippling and now I have this disease to deal with on top of the sour depression.
Anorexia Nervosa and Avoidant Restrictive Food Intake Disorder. That is my diagnosis. I’m told it’s a deadly disease, but I always thought I had it under control. I thought what I was experiencing was completely normal. Everyone wants to be thinner than they are, right? Everyone watches what they eat, right? No one is satisfied with the way they look, right? No? Well, I honestly did not know that. I thought I was normal.
Oh, Kelsi, when will you learn that you will never be “normal”? It wasn’t until I went to treatment that I really began to suffer from the disease. It wasn’t until I tried to stop it, that it grew out of control and became a raging monster. And now, that’s where I am: alone, dealing with this raging monster inside of me who is trying his hardest to consume me and currently succeeding. So, please excuse the lack of words this year (I have hesitated to share my disordered thoughts because I do not want this website to be thought of as “Pro-Ana” as it is NOT and NEVER will be). I am struggling to regain control of my life, myself, and most of all, my mind.