This morning I went to see my dietician, after not seeing her last week. We had a very brief chat, before she took me down the hall to the scales. Step on sideways, breathe-in-breathe-out. "It's gone down... quite a bit." Wipe that smile off your face. We went back to her office and sat down, and I told her how my intake was. The first week was pretty shaky - a couple of 1,200 days, a couple of 800 days, but three embarrassingly-over-1,200 days, and the past week I'd had 1,200 perfectly every day. Didn't mention that I haven't eaten solid food since Saturday, thought I'd just keep it to the good points. Keeping on 1,200 for the next two weeks, as I don't have an appointment next week either, and we'll decide if we need to adjust it then.

I have been losing weight every week for the past four weeks. I've been having 1,200 calories a day, and not exercising at all. Barely getting out of bed, really. I don't need to tell y'all how mind-boggling this is.

I'd made a 16oz Thermos mug of coffee in the car. Before I get weighed, I limit myself to only one cup of coffee beforehand. Normally I'd drink 32oz /1 litre in my first two hours of waking, so that's a challenge. I was hoping I'd get a chance to run out for a sip of coffee and maybe a puff of a smoke before I had to see the new GP, but no dice. My first appointment was 8:10, and the second one at 8:30, so I wasn't holding out hope. But man, was I thirsty. The GP appointment... didn't go so well. I remember going in with my mum, and the GP asking over and over why I was changing GPs and what was the problem with my last GP and why, why, why. It was about 10 minutes of this before I left crying, saying I'm sorry to have wasted her time. So, yeah. Mum stayed and chatted with her. I don't remember much. I went out to the car in a full-blown panic attack, crying, and started to get chest pains - which normally don't come with my panic attacks. Mum came out. She'd written me a script for my anti-depressants, and a thing-a-majig for a blood test (order for a blood test? I ain't even know).

We went home. I cried more. I told mum that I just don't have the energy to do that, to spend so long talking about why I'm changing GPs, when she couldn't see the reason why. I do what I need to do, the essentials to keep me out of the emergency room. I don't have the energy for much else. I don't go out except for my appointments, and two in one day is just too much. I told her that I feel like I'm dying. I just wanted to have my OBs taken, then talk about that stuff. I need to know what's going on before I talk about why. Talking to me is like walking on a land mines. I get upset so easily, at so much. My dietician knows this, so she weighs me before we talk, because the one time we tried to talk first, I had a panic attack before I could be weighed.

I don't know if I'll go back. Mum said that she wants to see me again in a week or two, for blood results and to do my OBs. The biggest barrier now, is that I have a very hard time looking people in the eye after they see me panic and cry. The girls in the office are used to it. I walk out crying, and this lovely blonde lady always asks my mum if I'm okay. My dietician's used to it. My psychs all got used to it (I don't know if I ever stayed for a full appointment with my ED psych last year). I know I really need a GP, and I know I need to have a check-up, but I just can't seem to do it. Why can't I just have my fucking OBs done? I don't want to talk. I can't deal with talking. I just really want to have my OBs done, then we can talk until I panic. Appointments always end in crying and panic attacks. Thankfully they've become less-common with my dietician recently.

And to the matter of eating... yesterday, I had four fat-free yoghurts (270 cal total), four supplements (792 total), one juice (105) and my black coffees (29 total). The juice is actually wonderful. It's V8 Orange Mango Passion. I used to drink it a lot, watered down, in the first 6 months or so of my ED. No artificial whatevers, and a serve of fruit and a serve of vege in each glass. I buy the little tetra pack sippy-cartons. I'm enjoying not having to measure, not having to think. I also bought this little squeezie-sippy-pack of Up & Go 'Breakfast Yoghurt', which I'm hoping may be a little less rich than the drinks, but more of a meal than my current yoghurt. Also, it takes away another element of 'eating', because they're in little drinkable pouches. So I may try one of them later.

Today, I'm all liquids I think. I had a supplement a little before 10AM once I'd calmed down, and another one at midday. For the rest of the day, I have planned a supplement in the afternoon, a supplement (or a yoghurt drink) with a juice for dinner, and a supplement before bed. Add my coffee, and I'll be at 1,180-1,190 calories. Suck my lanugo-covered balls, food.

I'm finding it scarily easily to rationalize not having to eat. I feel good about it, I really do. It escalated quickly, but I'm really happy about it right now. It feels right, to not eat. I'm relaxed and I feel free. It's nice to not have to worry about having to eat. I'm going to get a better supplement tomorrow or Thursday. Up & Go is a good supplement, and it fits my carbs/protein needs perfectly, but I'm falling behind in the micro department. So I've got Sustagen: Hospital Formula Plus Fibre on my shopping list. Sustagen is the Australian equivalent to Boost, I believe. So I'm gonna take a whack at it. It has more calories and protein than I'd normally like, but does it really matter? I'm still gonna take in 1,200 calories, and it's not like I'm gonna be building a lot of muscle lying in bed all day. Just means I won't have to drink as much, which is nice - especially if my calories go up in two weeks.

I know my emotions are all over the shop at the moment. Sorry. I just feel good about not having to eat. Not just "not eating", but "not having to eat". No one can bitch at me, because I'm still getting in my calories, and I'm not actively starving myself. Best of all worlds. I don't need to eat, or gain weight, and at the moment no one's yelling at me to get to a hospital. In fact my weight's dropping. But I'll have to make the most of that before my calories go up. Ugh. Sorry. So conflicted. I'm just feeling strangely good, about my sad life. I feel very lonely lately, but I guess that's part of the parcel. I don't leave the house except for my dietician. I don't even go to the supermarket. I spend most of my day in bed, too tired and cold and completely exhausted to move. But I don't even talk to people, you know? Not on the computer and certainly not on the phone (heaven forbid). I guess I'm just starting to feel it.
xx