I came into the New Year at 51.7kg. This week, 51.3 (113 lb, BMI 15.5). Slowly, slowly.
Quitting alcohol has really changed everything. Losing the booze weight was my main motivator, sadly. Nothing else mattered. I didn't care about the health concerns, physical or mental. I just needed the weight gone.
February 26th will be One Year Sober. Crazy. I started last year at 62.8kg, and was still 62.5kg on the day of my last drink (138 lb, BMI 18.8). Since then, the weight has been coming off. 11.2kg in just under 11 months.
I hit my 'highest weight' (not including pre-ED) in 2020. I was terrified of hitting the 70s, and came far too close for comfort. My highest weight was 69.8kg (154 lb, BMI 21.0), and it scared the shit out of me. I spent a lot of that time purposely avoiding posting my weight here - I was so ashamed.
After hitting that high, the weight loss slowly started, while I kept on drinking. 7kg across 4 years, frustratingly slow but consistent. Slow enough that I didn't really notice, until I looked back at the graph over a longer time period, or old body check photos.
For the most part, I'm in a little honeymoon phase, and I'm just riding the wave. Restricting feels good, and effortless. I spend a lot of time in the mirror, turning and examining. In the right light, I can see my chest bones, and it's the most amazing feeling.
Sometimes I feel like I still look like I did 15kg ago, and I have to get to the mirror to make sure that I'm not. No one ever comments on my weight (except for my dietitian, obviously, but she comments on the number, not how I look), which I can kinda understand, because it's a known issue to everyone, but it makes me question if I actually look different or not.
(As a note, I'm calculating my old BMIs with my current height. I was slightly taller back then, as my last DEXA scan put me at 182.1cm. I don't know exactly when the height loss began, so I may have been slightly taller for some of the old weights, which would lower the BMI a smidge)
* * *
After The Great Disembowelment, although I initially dropped a few kilos quite quickly after the swelling/water retention was gone, my weight then hit a plateau for a couple of months, and really only started dropping again in November. The majority of the weight loss happened before the surgery. I think it's partly because I feel like I never quite got my energy and activity levels back to normal following the surgery. I still feel so tired all the time. I'm more sedentary than I've been in years.
As for how all that's going, I've still been getting pain and nausea after eating, that seems to come and go. It'll be okay for a few weeks, then come back with a vengeance, and I start relying on liquid calories again. My GP isn't particularly concerned by this, and it might just be one of those things I have to deal with now.
I'm still trying to find the right balance of fiber supplements (which I've taken for well over a decade anyway) and osmolax, guided by my GP. Without getting too TMI, my bowels are unpredictable, swinging from one end of the spectrum to the other. Again, just something I might have to deal with.
I was warned that I may have trouble absorbing nutrients since I'm missing that section of bowel. I finally got a blood test done a month ago. I'd been putting it off, not wanting to deal with it. My B12 and Vitamin D have been consistently low for years - that's to be expected - but now I'm also low on Folate and Iron. Which probably doesn't help with my energy levels.
I've talked about it before, but supplements are a difficult thing for me. Fiber is the only exception. For me, it's not just about calories (though that is the main thing), it's also about simply not wanting to nourish my body. I can't take vitamins because it is giving my body nutrition, even though I know it's not going to contain calories or affect my weight. The idea of nutrition is difficult for me. Even the blood tests themselves can be triggering. Every number affects me, not just calories and weight.
Mentally, I'm starting to come to terms with the fact that I did this to myself. Sometimes it still hits me hard, but it doesn't keep me up at night. But I do have a lingering unease with knowing how truly ready I felt to die when I crashed after the first surgery. It's scary to not have that fear of death, if that makes sense. It's something that I'm slowly unpacking with my psychologist.
As for how all that's going, I've still been getting pain and nausea after eating, that seems to come and go. It'll be okay for a few weeks, then come back with a vengeance, and I start relying on liquid calories again. My GP isn't particularly concerned by this, and it might just be one of those things I have to deal with now.
I'm still trying to find the right balance of fiber supplements (which I've taken for well over a decade anyway) and osmolax, guided by my GP. Without getting too TMI, my bowels are unpredictable, swinging from one end of the spectrum to the other. Again, just something I might have to deal with.
I was warned that I may have trouble absorbing nutrients since I'm missing that section of bowel. I finally got a blood test done a month ago. I'd been putting it off, not wanting to deal with it. My B12 and Vitamin D have been consistently low for years - that's to be expected - but now I'm also low on Folate and Iron. Which probably doesn't help with my energy levels.
I've talked about it before, but supplements are a difficult thing for me. Fiber is the only exception. For me, it's not just about calories (though that is the main thing), it's also about simply not wanting to nourish my body. I can't take vitamins because it is giving my body nutrition, even though I know it's not going to contain calories or affect my weight. The idea of nutrition is difficult for me. Even the blood tests themselves can be triggering. Every number affects me, not just calories and weight.
Mentally, I'm starting to come to terms with the fact that I did this to myself. Sometimes it still hits me hard, but it doesn't keep me up at night. But I do have a lingering unease with knowing how truly ready I felt to die when I crashed after the first surgery. It's scary to not have that fear of death, if that makes sense. It's something that I'm slowly unpacking with my psychologist.
* * *
My wonderful GP, who I've been seeing for 13 years, is retiring at the end of February. This is a major change, and I'm dreading it. It took so long to build a healthcare team that works for me, and works with me. I had some nightmarish experiences with other GPs before I started seeing her, and I don't care to repeat them.
I still haven't settled on a new GP. There's a few options, staying at the same clinic I've been at my entire life. My GP says they're all good with mental health, but I'm waiting to ask my dietitian's opinion when she gets back from her break. I need someone who will be understanding of eating disorders, and most importantly, be on board with harm reduction as opposed to pushing active treatment. Even when I started seeing my current GP, I spent the first few years maintaining around that BMI 12-14 mark, and she was always good about it.
I have 3 appointments left with her, and time is quickly running out. I've known it's been coming for a few years now, but I'm still not ready. She's been with me so much, and it'll be so sad to say goodbye. She's become like family to me.
I still haven't settled on a new GP. There's a few options, staying at the same clinic I've been at my entire life. My GP says they're all good with mental health, but I'm waiting to ask my dietitian's opinion when she gets back from her break. I need someone who will be understanding of eating disorders, and most importantly, be on board with harm reduction as opposed to pushing active treatment. Even when I started seeing my current GP, I spent the first few years maintaining around that BMI 12-14 mark, and she was always good about it.
I have 3 appointments left with her, and time is quickly running out. I've known it's been coming for a few years now, but I'm still not ready. She's been with me so much, and it'll be so sad to say goodbye. She's become like family to me.
* * *
Christmas sucked. Worst one yet. I didn't question my sobriety, but I did question laxatives. I'm so over it.
It was heavy. I was dreading it. I usually do some baking (which I rarely do anymore) around Christmas, family recipes, and a roast on the day to fill the freezer with leftovers. I bought the ingredients for grandma's caramel slice and mum's chocolate truffles, and they're still sitting in the pantry. It's just been going through the motions since mum died, and every year I ask myself "Why am I doing this?"
I broke down in tears a few days before. I'd decided to do lamb this year, which I used to make a lot with mum, though I've only done chicken since I've been doing Christmas solo. The only lamb roast S could find at the shops was kind of pathetic. It was such a small thing, but it broke the dam. She kept talking about Christmas, and asking what I was going to do, and I broke down completely.
"I don't know whether it's more sad to cook that pathetic lamb, or nothing at all."
When the day came, I decided on nothing at all. I didn't cook my roast. I didn't eat.
Even at my worst points, I have always eaten on days like Christmas and birthdays, when we used to go out for birthday dinners, even if I didn't really want to. So to me, it was a stupid little symbolic thing. To show that I'm done with Christmas. It's not special enough to force myself to eat.
The only highlight of the day was getting an email notification that I had a comment from Shelby on here, saying they were thinking of me. It gave me my only smile of an otherwise lonely and empty day.
It was heavy. I was dreading it. I usually do some baking (which I rarely do anymore) around Christmas, family recipes, and a roast on the day to fill the freezer with leftovers. I bought the ingredients for grandma's caramel slice and mum's chocolate truffles, and they're still sitting in the pantry. It's just been going through the motions since mum died, and every year I ask myself "Why am I doing this?"
I broke down in tears a few days before. I'd decided to do lamb this year, which I used to make a lot with mum, though I've only done chicken since I've been doing Christmas solo. The only lamb roast S could find at the shops was kind of pathetic. It was such a small thing, but it broke the dam. She kept talking about Christmas, and asking what I was going to do, and I broke down completely.
"I don't know whether it's more sad to cook that pathetic lamb, or nothing at all."
When the day came, I decided on nothing at all. I didn't cook my roast. I didn't eat.
Even at my worst points, I have always eaten on days like Christmas and birthdays, when we used to go out for birthday dinners, even if I didn't really want to. So to me, it was a stupid little symbolic thing. To show that I'm done with Christmas. It's not special enough to force myself to eat.
The only highlight of the day was getting an email notification that I had a comment from Shelby on here, saying they were thinking of me. It gave me my only smile of an otherwise lonely and empty day.
* * *
Summer vibes
I also had yet another move in October. Packing ahead of the move was a real push. Physically, it was the most difficult move I've had yet. Thankfully it was timed well, and I got the '60 day's notice' right around the time the 'no heavy lifting' restriction passed. It was still hard, but at least I wasn't at risk of damaging something or causing a hernia.
Now, I'm struggling to get the new house unpacked, as evidenced in the backgrounds of my photos. Some days, even staying on top of regular housework has been a struggle. Everything just takes so much effort, it's all so draining.
It was also my first time moving sober. I wasn't sure if I was going to get through it. I didn't even pack up my alcohol until about two weeks before the move (yes, I still brought it with me - I'm not quite ready to completely let go of it yet, but it's now packed away in the garage), because I was worried I might crack. It definitely got a lot easier once I secured a new place, though there was still so much to do.
Now, I'm struggling to get the new house unpacked, as evidenced in the backgrounds of my photos. Some days, even staying on top of regular housework has been a struggle. Everything just takes so much effort, it's all so draining.
It was also my first time moving sober. I wasn't sure if I was going to get through it. I didn't even pack up my alcohol until about two weeks before the move (yes, I still brought it with me - I'm not quite ready to completely let go of it yet, but it's now packed away in the garage), because I was worried I might crack. It definitely got a lot easier once I secured a new place, though there was still so much to do.
Through the move, Miss Sephi has been unwell. Thankfully, it's nothing serious - we ran the full gamut of tests to rule out the serious issues, including the Big C. It still feels so recent that Misty passed, and I was terrified I was going to lose Sephi too. I wonder how I would deal with grief sober.
It turns out that the stress of the move triggered a stubborn bout of Stress Cystitis. Basically, when cats get stressed, their bladder can become inflamed and cause behavioral urinary issues. It started a week before moving day - just the packing and boxes piling up was upsetting her, and she was straining to pee every few minutes. I panicked, and took her to the vet that day.
Since then, she's had half a dozen more visits. Anxiety meds twice a day, anti-inflammatories, and even an antidepressant - the latter of which will be a long term thing. She's starting to wean off the anti-inflammatories (she had a few short courses at the start, but went backwards when they stopped, so she's been on them for a solid month), and we're going back next week to check in and see if she can start coming off more of the meds. But for now, she's doing okay. She's now settled into the new house, though it was a slow process.
It turns out that the stress of the move triggered a stubborn bout of Stress Cystitis. Basically, when cats get stressed, their bladder can become inflamed and cause behavioral urinary issues. It started a week before moving day - just the packing and boxes piling up was upsetting her, and she was straining to pee every few minutes. I panicked, and took her to the vet that day.
Since then, she's had half a dozen more visits. Anxiety meds twice a day, anti-inflammatories, and even an antidepressant - the latter of which will be a long term thing. She's starting to wean off the anti-inflammatories (she had a few short courses at the start, but went backwards when they stopped, so she's been on them for a solid month), and we're going back next week to check in and see if she can start coming off more of the meds. But for now, she's doing okay. She's now settled into the new house, though it was a slow process.
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Summer vibes
As you might notice, I did a thing to my hair! It's the first time since 2011 that I've had black hair. I had the dye sitting around for months, waiting for the courage and impulse to strike. I'm not sure how long I'll keep it for, but I like it more than I thought I would. I've recently done my eyebrows a bit darker, too.
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A couple of months ago, a couple of kilos higher.
I dug through my clothing tubs, where I store my different sized clothes, trying on dozens of items. I was ecstatic to find that most of my size 6 (AU) clothes fit again.
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I got dressed up to go out for lunch with my writing group (that I've been in since I was a teenager). A bunch of people came down from Melbourne to go to somewhere local to me. Definitely outside my comfort zone, but it was nice. We did it in 2024 as well - the first group event I'd been to in person in over a decade, since I can't get to Melbourne anymore. We're planning to do it next year too. I can't remember the last time I'd seen a friend who wasn't a support worker.
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The full fit. I look a bit rough because I didn't take photos until after the lunch - not my best decision (I should've at least brushed my hair! It was windy out).
It's difficult trying to balance wanting to choose clothes for fashion, when my main concern is trying to look thin (or at least, not bigger than I am)
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(sorry for the awkward photo formatting - I’ve realised that putting photos side-by-side makes them weirdly squished on mobile view, and I’m yet to figure out a better option. It’s also currently 4am, I’ve been up since 7am, and now is not the time to figure it out, but at least I’ve finally gotten this post done)
Much love to you all. Thanks for sticking around. It means more to me than you could ever know.
xxBella
xxBella
