It’s been a while, and there is a reason for that. A few things happened in succession that took over:

I started my new job and I have been caught up with that.

I had my last weekly appointment with my therapist and won’t see her for another month: this means I am in recovery

I have an email in my inbox from the dietitian asking if I can come for a review in 2 weeks.

I could just stop now and pretend it’s all over, it was an episode that has now concluded. I was depressed and not eating. I’m ok now.

I don’t want to go to the dietitian appointment because I know that I have only gained less than a kilo. I weigh myself every morning and it’s still in a place where I feel ok (50kg). Yesterday I was 51 kg and it coloured my whole day. So I wouldn’t say things are ok here, not at all.

But maybe 50kg is where it is going to stay. As I’ve said before- it’s reasonably healthy and it’s enough food to sustain me. Whatever I’m bored with it.

Things are ok mood wise. The new job is all consuming but relatively stress free so far. I need to try and keep it that way. Already I’m not taking breaks and staying late but that is what my new boss does so I feel I have to follow suit. Or I could be mature and strong about it and let him know what way I will do things. I need to do this otherwise I will be heading down danger road again. The depression and sick leave from work seems like a distant memory now. It’s almost like I can’t comprehend it. But it could happen again. It happened once so it could happen again and I need to make sure it does not.

Or I could just pretend it ever happened and move on?

Tug of war- letting go of restricting.

We go one way, then we go another way. Forwards and back. The grass starts to get thread-bare, then completely worn away. Heels are digging in completely now.

I really, honestly do not know what to do. I have lost track of what “normal” eating is. I have lost track of what my body is supposed to look like. Supposed to feel like. My fingers find the bones of my chest. Ribs- I count them and rub them like a talisman. They protrude a little. When people hug me or rub my back it embarrasses me a bit- the knobs.

Now I’m not Skeletor (He-man reference). I don’t look “anorexic”. And I’m not. I am underweight but people don’t look at me and think “eeeek!”.

My dietitian thinks I should be about 1.5 stones heavier than I am. Now come on- I have never been that weight in my life and never intend to be. She very seriously tells me that at my current weight I would not be able to conceive. However my blood results are all within normal range, I manage to live a pretty normal life and my hair’s not falling out so I’m obviously not that bloody underweight. Also I get lots of calcium. So why can’t I just continue as I am?

But I’m not sure about how I look. The chest is obviously bony. I’ve always been small on top but now it’s super small. The shoulders are a bit pointy. But my stomach and thighs have never been like this before. Am I prepared to have a bony upper body just so that I can have slim thighs?

Eh. Yes. It would appear so.

I know I know I KNOW that men find slightly curvier women more attractive. Whevs. I am not doing this for men. I am doing it for my own sense of inner peace with my weight.

It could be just a phase. Normality might creep back in..

Two steps forward…one step back

I don’t even want to write but I am going to try to, instead of going upstairs to wake my husband up and tell him how crap I feel.

It’s morning here in London. My neighbours have already left for work- my train goes soon. 

I don’t want to go, have to go, can’t drag enough energy to go.

Last night I purged. In the shower. Why? No I hadn’t binged. I just felt full. Uncomfortably full because maybe I’m not used to eating a normal amount. 

In the shower? Desperately washing away bits of food. Bulimia is dirty. It’s a stain. I’m ashamed. There was an episode a few days ago too. Slipping back in, to that bastard state. 

I have a job to go too. I start a new job in a few weeks. I don’t have room for bulimia and food restriction and size 2 jeans and infertility. 

Relapse. Exhausting and annoyingly predictable.

 

Yes, OK, I’ll give that a try….and other lies I told my Dietitian.

 

I had my initial appointment with the dietitian today.

I am sure this woman is well- used to her clients lying to her, telling her what she wants to hear and denying what she tells them. I am sure that she has been looked at in horror, laughed at, cried upon and maybe even been verbally abused. No, definitely.

I went willingly to my appointment. I requested it. I may be depressed and eating disordered but my need to be a good girl will always win out. So I am trying to be a good anorexic depressed person.

Here are the thoughts going through my head as I walk down the psych hospital corridor to outpatients:

1. Trying to strike the balance between walking without a care in the world and avoiding eye contact in case I bump into anyone from work (yes I work in the neighbouring hospital).

2. This won’t be too bad- all of the staff here so far have been great and she will be on my side.

3. Why is there a baby changing room there- babies should never be brought into a place like this! Oh. Unless their Mum is suffering from post-natal depression. Or a relapse of their ED triggered by post-natal depression. Or BY PREGNANCY! (more on this later)

4. How hard can this be?

So we met and we sat down and we got straight too it. I was honest. I explained the history- usually have on and off trouble with bulimia but over last 6 months have suffered depression and lost my appetite and motivation to eat which has spiralled into a mood and anorexia shit storm and I have lost weight,

Dietitian: how do you feel about your weight

Me: I don’t think I’m dangerously or even concerningly underweight and I am no longer losing weight (lie # 1 but I don’t know this as she hasn’t weighed me yet). I am just trying to keep things stable- I am happy with my weight because it is under control and therefore I don’t have to spend time thinking about how I should lose weight- which as most women know is a massive drag.

2: D: what do you want from this appointment? 

Me: for you to tell me if this weight is unsafe and if I am doing myself any harm because right now it is working for me.

Dietitian weighs and measure my height. Have lost teensy tiny 0.2 kilos but the downward trend however miniscule persists. BMI indicates underweight. There is a chart with swathes of colour indicating what level of healthiness your BMI corresponds with- orange is good. Red is overweight. I am yellow. I am on the edge of yellow and blue. 

She wants me to be in the orange. The weight she advises for me is a no-go never-ever. 

She tells me I am without doubt infertile right now. This is reversible.

She tells me that I am at risk of osteoporosis. This is not reversible. I need 4 servings of dairy a day- to be fair dairy is one thing I am ace at so one extra serving will be easy.

The meal plan she gives me is not outrageous but it seems unlikely to me. There is so much further I need to be along the recovery route mentally before I can take thus on. I say as much (truth). I say I will try (truth). I say it seems reasonable (lie) but there is not really anything reasonable about an ED. On this we agreed.

Returning to work….eeeek

Returning to work on a “phased return to work” tomorrow.

Trying to stay neutral about this. Yes it will make me feel anxious and yes some moments will be tough but it will be ok. People will perhaps ask where I have been but mainly people will probably just say hi. But it could be awkward.

The first hour will be tough but then it will be fine. I am looking forward to going back to a routine- like getting up at 645 and heading out to work like a normal person.

I have been off for a month so it will feel rusty.

Will I eat?

Who knows- it depends how it goes I suppose….

Coping skills

When initially diagnosed as “severely depressed” I really struggled with the diagnosis. I didn’t have time to be depressed! I was busy! I was super strong, made of steel like Sara Lund (The Killing fans of you will get that). 

Over the months I have gradually accepted that I am depressed. And more recently that this is largely related to my thinking patterns, perfectionist tendencies, harsh view of myself and goal oriented priorities (why would I spend time doing something just because I enjoy it, duh?).

So it’s all my fault. I made this happen to myself. And only I can fix it (oh look it’s that harsh criticism of self again).

Let’s look at this a different way: (a more compassionate way)

– I was brought up to be an achiever- work hard, play later, top of class, the A team, best score. 

– I want to be the best, in charge, the leader, the boss. I want to show them all.

– I don’t find it easy to relax (see above)

– I find it hard to admit when I am struggling (see above)

So. All some of these beliefs have positive outcomes:

I have a successful career (although not so successful right now as I am on sick leave, lying in bed with the cats writing a blog while everyone else is at work), I am an attractive, slim weight and my bookshelves are all in order.

But the negatives are: yes, you’ve guessed it, I am vulnerable to depression and anxiety.

Which would be ok if I have appropriate or positive strategies to cope with that- like yoga, or talking to people, or meditation or some such. Or even just recognising it and allowing myself it.

Currently my strategies involve:

Keeping it to myself (Sara Lund style) 

Ignoring it

Disordered eating (overeating and binging or restricting food in a sad way to do something, something to respond to how I’m feeling)

Pulling away from social interaction as the inner monologue gets louder and the washing machine of thoughts chug on, hour after hour.

So I need to work on those….