Basically, all my replies (both online and in textual form) were really very lovely and reassuring. Thank you. I realised when I was writing out replies that actually, I would just wind up being repetitive, so I thought I’d do a quick post.
I know entirely that it wouldn’t be a bad thing for me to gain that weight and that it most likely isn’t fat. And I know I’m actually being entirely dramatic which doesn’t help matters. Slowly but surely I’m dealing with it though. I got carried away and let disordered thoughts perpetuate mathematically laziness. I rounded up figures, I’ve counted it from my last weigh in figure to the number on my home scales (which always weigh me as more than my dietician’s scales). That was almost two weeks ago now, but due to obsessive weighing, I know that this time last week, I’d maintained. I’m just scared because the weight did jump up.
Then I woke up weighing a pound less than yesterday. Go figure.
So it’s actually not as dramatically as I thought. I got myself carried away with feeling rubbish and letting incredibly destructive thought processes take over for a little while. I think my gain over the past 12 days (since my last weigh in) is less than a kilo, which is actually pretty average.
But this morning, I didn’t have time to think about it this much as I was in a mad rush to get to therapy. I’d planned to have not enough time for breakfast or make up (read – “I’m so ugly and fat it doesn’t matter!!”), so ran around a lot so I could actually eat and look presentable and didn’t process the change in weight. When I got there, basically just sulked and was really stubborn today with the psychologist (read – “I was right! I want to leave treatment! I’m fat and ugly and rubbish and nothing you can say can possibly make that any different. You all lied”). Totally unproductive. Now I have thought about it more, I guess I was probably being a little over dramatic (read – A LOT over dramatic. Lots of “I’m so fat! I want to die!” No joke of a lie that is what my head kept repeatedly thinking. And at one point I flailed onto my bed because “What is the point of even trying to do anything?”).
Basically I’m a massive idiot. An incredibly dramatic, massive idiot. I think I may have reverted back to an angry at the world, off-kilter hormones thirteen year old.
So anyway, after reading comments when I got home, and actually thinking about how ridiculous this all is, I had a peanut butter kitkat chuncky because they’re back you know, and they are really good! I fancied a small rebellion against entirely over dramatic, stupid thoughts. Apparently, my brand of eating disorder is lord of the over statement. And you know what, I did eat fish and chips and they were bloody lovely. And I’d do it again. In fact, I did pretty fantastically all things considered. And you know, I am actually trying to gain weight (as much as my brain likes to forget that quite often) so what did I really expect? I was hoping that I’d have lost but why would I expect that? And I don’t think I can possibly look noticeably bigger with that amount of weight gain so it’s all irrational silliness.
So I guess 24hour madness is exactly right. Huh.
And you know what else – the bezzie of all the many bezzies is coming over tonight for some post-relationship comfort and I am going to get incredibly drunk and I haven’t restricted my calories to accommodate for that.
Hopefully, this’ll work out to be a minor blip. Pack up the bags and move on.