Depression and the dietician

I saw the dietician yesterday, like every other Tuesday for the last 12 weeks (wow, time has flown - I've been single for nearly four months!). I'm always there before 9AM - she always fits me in. She knows I won't eat breakfast before being weighed. It's a little pointless, as I do still drink a 500ml/18oz black coffee beforehand, and get weighed in shoes and jacket and all (though I make a point to wear the same/similar outfit on Tuesdays - she must think I'm crazy *cough*), but you see, normally before 8AM I have drunk at least two litres (64oz) of coffee as well as my breakfast, so that's just fucking stupid. Normally I'm in at 8:10, sometimes 8:30, though this week was 8:50 as I didn't make my appointments far enough in advance this month. It's always very quiet before 9am, sometimes one or two other people in the waiting room but usually just mum and I. She gets along with the girls at the desk well and always has a chat. One of the girls had a Tupperware catalogue this week, and she and mum got really excited about meat keepers. I don't know. I just sit down and stare at the TV.

My dietician came out, and we always go straight down the hall to the scales before we even sit down. Best to get it out of the way, I think. We got back to her office (funnily enough, she works out of my former GP's office as he doesn't work on Tuesdays - not my recent GP, but my family GP who I saw from the time I was born up until about 18 months ago when he told me to 'exercise more' to sleep better at a BMI of 12) and she told me I'd gone up a little. About 0.6kg (~1lb). I'd expected a gain when as my body adjusts to a higher intake, so it wasn't too bad. Then she told me that I was 0.8kg up from when I first started to see her, and my heart dropped (even though most of it had been this week's fluctuation). I told her I was a little uncomfortable that I was higher than I'd started. She told me how she always hates weighing people, because weight's such a negative thing, though it's the only 'barometer' we have at the moment. She'd gone to a fantastic seminar the day before, apparently, about Recovery from Eating Disorders. The woman speaking had mentioned this:

The three most important keys to successful recovery are:

1. Not weighing yourself
2. Keeping a journal
3. Reaching out

I've definetely got number two down (I've kept a handwritten journal since December '10), and I'm working on number three, but I still feel like I need to know whether my weight's going up or down - though I know it's harmful to know numbers. I told her about my fears of not weighing at all, how in February I didn't weigh for so long, shot my intake up to 1,200 calories and maxed out my training, and gained 7kg in a month. She took the opportunity to point out that that hasn't happened this time. I've gained 0.8kg over three months, we've seen that it fluctuates up and down each week, though from an objective standpoint she would say that I'm maintaining fairly exactly. In the long run, it's stayed the same, but it still got me down.

Normally on Tuesdays, I have a bit of 'freedom' (as my mum says) and eat a few hundred more calories, fear foods, and foods I don't know the exact calories in. I got home, and had a smaller breakfast than I normally do. Half a wholemeal scone for morning tea, and fun-sized chocolate bars throughout the day... I skipped lunch and afternoon tea, and had plain rice with teriyaki sauce for dinner. I came out at about 1,250 calories, with over half my calories being from chocolate. It's disgusting, I know. I spent the afternoon lying in bed, staring at the wall, too depressed - too fat - to eat. All in all it was a bad day.

And here I am again today, rugged up in bed, pipe on my bedside and the window cracked open. To my credit, I did go for a great run this morning, but after that I just made sure I had things in the fridge for meals, and came in here. I don't really want to eat anymore. I just don't see the point. I feel too fat as it is. I tried to explain to my mum that whenever someone says to me "you should be a model, you look really good, etc." that all I hear is "you're fat", but I just don't know how to explain it. I don't want to look good. I want to be oh-my-god-look-away scary skinny. I know I'm not overweight, I'm not dysmorphic, I just don't want to look attractive. I don't know how to explain it without having to open up topics that I try to avoid - nor can I explain the 'Peter Pan' thing to her. I just don't want to talk about it. I'm feeling a lot of triggers for PTSD-related stuff coming in at the moment. I'm not even sure why. It's not a triggering time of year, and I can't think of anything specific that's triggering me... I guess I'm just thinking too much on the 'compliments' I get and why I don't want them.

Only a couple of days until mum goes away for the weekend. I have no idea what my intake will be like. I doubt I'll get up to any non-ED-related shenanigans, because I just don't care. My friend (read: singular. Friend. One friend. My one friend. =_=) who came over last time mum was away isn't talking to me anymore. She has a new girlfriend now, so yeah. The same thing happened last time she got into a relationship three fucking years ago and we didn't talk until they broke up. She's ignoring my messages now. I don't know why, exactly. When she left, she said "if you're not busy this week, call me and we'll hang out", and I texted her like three fucking days later. Then two more messages in the following week. Nothing back. Oh well. I guess I need to start talking to other people who live in my town if I want to be social IRL.

Maybe I should just start playing World of Warcraft again.

That's all from me for now, folks. Probably gonna be soup (and maybe toast) for lunch. I'm eating too much protein lately. And sodium. And calories. And everything.

Ugh.

xxBella