One Bite At A Time

When we last saw the princess, it was a dark and stormy night..... She was seeking shelter in an old run down castle deep into the forest.... As she opened the creaky wooden doors, she saw a bright light.  She hoped that bright light was the treasure she had been searching for this whole time.  The princess lightly crept towards the glistening sparkle with trepidation but as she came closer, she realized it truly was what she had been seeking.  ....and she lived happily ever after.

BULLSHIT. Life is not a fairy tale.  Life sucks.  I put on my big girl panties and went off to treatment for my "disease" only to learn..... NOTHING.  I'm still being classified as EDNOS (eating disorder not otherwise specified) because I'm not quite there yet to be considered anorexic.  Okay.  Whatever helps you sleep at night, but I'll still with anorexic because it's easier to explain.....  I didn't want to go and I cried in the car all the way there.  This was now my second venture into a psychiatric outpatient treatment program in 3 months.  How the fuck did I get here?  How was it that I was truly an anorexic and getting treatment?  Was I really going into fucking rehab?  Yup.

I fully expected this trip to be as easy peasy as the first one but 15 minutes into the morning I knew I was settling in to Gitmo on Guantanamo Bay.  I avoided writing anything about my time there because I wasn't ready.  I didn't want to think about that place while I was away from it.  I still don't like thinking about it.  The women in the group were great-- supportive and understanding.  The rest?  Well, no.  Most of them sucked.  I essentially went someplace every day to have someone babysit me while I ate.  I may have learned a little about nutrition but I learned nothing about the affects of this disease on my body, how to counteract a negative thought and/or body image, how get through each day trying to eat...  The list could go on and on about what I didn't learn.

Everyone else seems happy because I continue to eat but I can see the relapse.  It within my reach.  Something that would have been helpful to learn?  Not wanting to make that reach.  I still have absolutely no desire to eat.  Now that I'm on my own doing this, I have resorted to setting an alarm on my cell phone to remind me to eat (it's gone off 4 times since I've been writing and I keep pressing snooze-- clearly that's not helping either).  I am eating 3 meals a day but my portions are getting smaller and smaller.  It really is only a matter of time for me to get back to where I was....  but, my fear of residential treatment is keeping me from skipping meals.  If I get back on the train, the next stop is Renfrew and I don't want to go there.

I'm trying to put on a brave face.  There are people in my life who are bursting with love and support.  They are beyond proud of me.  It's great.  I'm lucky to have support because I met so many women that didn't have any support at all.  My biggest supporter is/was/will be my husband but LiLi is there for me emotionally in a way he can't be.  I have the best of both worlds.  I truly do. But.....  I don't want to eat.  I still really honestly don't have the desire.

I know it's lunch time but no one is here....  no one is watching me....  I had breakfast....  I could skip lunch and no one would know.  Not a soul.  It's so tempting. My first weekend in treatment, I was home about to eat my first breakfast without supervision.  I measured everything out and started to cry.  I sat on the floor, crying, looking at the GINORMOUS bowl of Cheerios I had to eat.  How was I going to do it?  My husband came in the house and found me on the floor.  He picked me up, sat me down, put the food in front of me and started a conversation about something else entirely.  So that's how I did it, one bite at a time.

Sitting here alone while my daughter naps, and my alarm keeps going off, I have an inner struggle and debate on what I should do.  Soon, she'll wake up and my focus and attention will be on her and I won't eat.  I have a small window to make the right decision but it's so hard.  I still cannot get the food down when I'm alone.  It was definitely easier eating with a group of women battling eating disorders. I miss them....  but I sure as hell don't miss the escorted trips to the bathroom, being confined to one room all day, not being allowed to leave the room for any reason except to go to the bathroom.  I don't know....  sounds like prison to me,

My struggle is getting worse.  I have to eat, I know I do.  But when you aren't hungry, it's so hard to find something to eat.  While I was in rehab, we did meal planning everyday off of a menu.  That was easy but now, I need to think about what I am going to eat and it all makes me so tired. I am so fucking tired of thinking about food. I wish people would stop telling me how great I look too.....  what does that mean?  I look great because I put on weight? is that it?  I have no idea what I weigh.  There are no scales in my house and I have convinced myself that I've gained 10 pounds, if not more.  I guess that's an "irrational thought." Um, ok. Fuck you then.

I'm glad I went because it made everyone happy but I don't feel better.  If I was better, I would have stopped typing when the alarm went off to eat, but I didn't.  I just want to sit here and cry because I'm so not hungry.  The thought of eating actually makes me physically ill.  I honestly just don't give a fuck anymore--- but the perfectionist in me is telling me to eat--- to finish what I started--- DON'T BE A QUITTER.

So what does that mean?  It means I'm going to go and have lunch.  FML.