Shortly after I wrote my last post, I went to run myself a bath. It seemed like a sure-fire way to get through an hour or so stress-free and try to relax for a little bit.
I grabbed my incense, lighter, and a pair of fresh pajamas and fluffy socks. I ran the water, poured in some bubbles, and sat at the bench to wash my face.
It was only when I knocked over the box of tissues and bent to retrieve them that I saw them staring at me. The little white box, crack on the right side of the cover, was peeking out from beneath the vanity.
They've been hidden away for years, unused by me since last January. But suddenly, they're baaaaack!
Panic washed over me, followed by the urge to stand on them-- no, smash them-- no, throw them out the window-- no...!
Not knowing what else to do, and with mum out for the day, I picked them up by the edge, not wanting to even trigger them on with my hands, did a U-turn, walked out and knocked on my brother's door.
Situations like this can obviously leave on feeling a little speechless, and for me, tends to result in word-vomit gibberish, but it was something along the lines of:
"I just went to have a bath and the scales were there and I haven't used them since last January and I don't know why mum's put them back and she's not home and I don't know what to do."
Thankfully he just took the scales and hid hem in his room until mum got home that night.
I broke down and called mum several times before she got to the phone. Apparently, she didn't think it would trigger me (?!?!), nor did she think about talking to me about it before just putting them back.
I sat and sooked on the kitchen floor for half an hour. Billy came to sit with me. Then I pulled myself up and sat in the half-cold bath with its flattened bubbles, still sobbing for another half hour. After that, I refilled my water bottle, got Boo, and sat in my armchair, smoking and staring into space, feeling numbed by the whole thing until mum got home.
We didn't really talk about it any more except for her saying she didn't know it would upset me, she didn't know it would trigger me. I just can't understand how the scales didn't automatically equal a trigger in her mind. It doesn't make sense to me.
Then on Tuesday, I didn't go to see the dietician. I couldn't bring myself to even cancel. Around half an hour after our appointment should have started, I got a text.
She asked if everything was okay. Normally, missed appointments mean my lungs are playing up and/or I've landed myself in hospital. I tried to explain the situation with insurance reaching the limit and having to cut back appointments, but I couldn't find words to respond when she replied.
I ended up making an appointment to see her yesterday (payday). The first/only appointment she had free was at 6:20pm - the polar opposite of our 8:10am Tuesday starts.
She called me from the waiting room, and walking to her office, put her arm around me.
"How are you doing?"
"Not too great."
"I didn't think so, if you're here of a night time."
She asked what happened on Tuesday, and I explained the situation with insurance reaching the limit, and how mum usually covered part but won't this year. I told her I feel like, if mum doesn't care if I go to appointments any more, why should I care?
She said that I need to keep coming in. It meant a lot to hear her say that, that it's important. She talked about how far I've come and how I can't go backwards now.
"Plus, I think it really helps you just to have someone you can talk to."
She said she was going to set it up with the desk so I can keep coming in each week, but every second appointment would be free.
"No, no, you don't have to do that, it's too much."
"No, it's my gift to you."
This is where I lost it and started tearing up.
"You're going to get me crying soon."
I better think up one hell of a Christmas present.
I told her about my run-in with the scales on the weekend.
"Why would she do that?"
"I don't know. She said she didn't know it would trigger or upset me."
"I thought it would be obvious that scales = trigger."
It was good to get confirmation that I'm not crazy.
She asked what my thoughts on it were now, and I told her I'm planning on getting them back out soon for a 'proper' weigh-in (I've only been weighing myself on the Wii, so I don't have an accurate weight, but know I've lost Xkg since X date.), I just want to make sure I'll be below a number that'd trigger self-destruction (okay, I didn't tell her that last bit). Seeing them out has just brought the issue to the forefront of my mind again.
"Maybe that's something we can work on. I know we had our disagreements earlier this year, and I don't like weighing people much at all, but even if we can get more comfortable just talking about your weight..."
I'm starting to get a bit worried about the upcoming weigh-in, though. There's no winning - it'll either be too high for me to want to get on the scales, or too low. But as far as my team's concerned, I know I probably would've been better off sucking it up and getting on the scales when they first asked and I was a few pounds heavier.
On the way out, she asked if she could give me a hug.
"You've got a friend in me, you know that, right?"