Weight Update

After almost a month of Boost and meal plan increases, the number on the scale is finally starting to creep up. I know I've waxed poetic over the past few weeks about how much I want recovery and am frustrated by my body's lack of progress etc. etc. etc. but goddammit let's just be real for a sec, I hate gaining weight. It's not just about the body image, which admittedly had descended to new lows lately (even though, oddly enough, I remember feeling much more satisfied with my body in high school when I weighed double-digits more than I do now). It's more about the damn numbers and my damn obsession with them. They need to go up. When I really think about it, I even want them to go up, and have everything positive that comes along with that. It doesn't do anyone - least of all myself - a bit of good for them to go down. So why in the world does it drive me absolutely out-of-my-mind crazy with anxiety to see that I've gained X after a month of trying?

When R told me my weight on Thursday, he prefaced it by saying congratulations, and then: "I didn't think you would gain this week, and I had a whole spiel planned. Now I don't even have to give it!" And then, even though I tried real hard to be proud of myself and absorb all R's positive weight-gaining energy, I still started to feel pretty low about the whole thing. It's such a mixed bag of emotions. Gaining weight means I am taking real, concrete steps to getting healthier. That's a Very Good Thing. Regardless, the OCD side of my brain is not pleased.

Actually, R still gave me the modified version of his pre-planned spiel, which basically outlined the necessity of restoring weight before school starts up again in August. To which I initially agreed, and then flipped a shit when I realized what that meant. You want me to gain HOW much weight by WHEN!? With a completely straight face, R informed me that that meant yes, gaining XX pounds in a little over eight weeks. Deep breaths.

Unrelated miscellany:
- I discovered College City Public Library this afternoon and totally got lost in a book for like three hours.
- My friend's co-worker made Turkish coffee for us last night. Why am I so cultured and grown up??
- Starbucks smoothies and frappuccinos are delicious (albeit pricey) alternatives to Boost.

A Few Days Late

Whoops, I missed my own anniversary! I've been blogging for a full year now and WOW I never would have guessed back in June 2011 that I'd love it so much. Writing has been a major love and outlet of mine forever, but I've always sucked at journaling. For some reason, blogging has stuck! Yes, I love writing here, but mostly I love hearing from and connecting with other people. Thank you guys so much for reading - seriously, it makes my day to hear from you guys and know that you're out there. Hell, anyone who makes it through my ramblings deserves a freaking medal.

So in summary, I missed my own blog's birthday but who really cares? Because I have the best readers ever and blogging rocks.

Moment of Crisis

Ugh, feeling so yucky and conflicted and FULL right now.

I blame the stupid Boost. Even if it is, like, nourishing my bod and keeping me alive or whatever.

Quick! Someone tell me I'm not fat!

Drugs and Dietary

My medication has turned me into a total insomniac. Most nights I fall asleep fine at first, but then I wake up a bunch of times throughout. I don't normally need a ton of sleep - probably about six hours, on average - but the three or four I've been getting lately is just not cutting it. I've had a constant low-grade headache for about three weeks now. My eyes started to rebel today as I tried to read something on my computer at work and I literally had to put my head down on my arms and take a mental time-out.

The upside to all of this? The medication is working. I feel so. much. better. Remember how fucking unstable I was four weeks ago? Not anymore. Things are good. Plus, I'm making real changes to get healthy. I actually eat real, substantial, wholesome foods now, and food gives you energy - who knew? I don't drag myself out of bed to run X miles before work despite feeling like I've been flattened by a truck. I am - gasp, wait for it - taking care of myself. Still sleep-deprived, but otherwise good.

I cancelled an appointment with my dietician this week. There's so much going on at work, and the thought of dragging myself down to her office was stressing me out. Plus, it's expensive. J isn't covered by my insurance and even though she's way cheaper than my old dietician, it's still a strain for my mom and dad to cover it weekly (even though they do, and keep telling me to shut up worrying about the cost. Somuchguilt.) I had just seen J last Tuesday, R on Thursday, and I'll be seeing R again this Thursday, so I figured I'd take a week off from dietary. Also I'm seeing my psychiatrist Dr. L on Friday, so J would have brought my appointment total up to THREE this week. Sometimes it feels like all I do is shuttle back and forth from Treatment Center. Did they stick me in IOP without telling me? Hmm...

Anyway, I wasn't looking forward to dietary anyway. I'm trucking along with the meal plan, but didn't quite fulfill all the goals J set last Tuesday. I've missed a few snacks and supplements lately. Not because I'm trying to restrict, but more because I'm struggling with challenging my rigidity over meal times, adjusting for changes, and making up missed/burned calories. I still way overthink what/when/how much to eat, even though I always fully intend to eat everything that I'm supposed to. It seemed like a waste of time to spend the 30 minutes with J trying to explain/justify/dissect why I wasn't able to do what she wanted in the first place.

Was any of that coherent? Basically A) Kaylee screwed up a little bit with the meal plan increases this week, but B) don't be mad because Kaylee didn't mean to restrict and feels bad about not following through, and C) Kaylee will stop talking about herself in the third person now.

So I'm relieved about having one less appointment on my calendar. My schedule was approaching the overwhelming point this week, and I needed a break from driving all over the city. And this should NOT be taken as a sign of wavering motivation or commitment to recovery - I'm still moving forward, even if my brain needs to be reminded of it at times. Besides, R will kick my butt later this week anyway.

Feeling the Pressure

I'm in that weird place right now where my appetite is starting to wake up. Even if I've just eaten and still "should" be full, I'll get really unexpectedly hungry and shaky. Of course my brain is still not totally okay with adding unplanned calories, even when it's painfully clear that my body wants them. Unfortunately my body needs more food than my brain is prepared to give it at the moment, so I spend a lot of time agonizing over what/when/how much to eat. It's getting a lot easier to tell myself that adding food and weight is the point of the exercise, but it still feels completely unintuitive.

Another irritating paradox of eating disorders: when my weight goes down, my body image gets worse. In the last couple of weeks I was starting to catch glimpses of myself in the mirror or in storefront windows and realize, Oh. You aren't fat. Since then, though, my weight has edged downwards a tad and suddenly I am convinced that I'm a whale. How is that possible, you ask? To get smaller but feel bigger? If I had the answer, believe me, I'd tell you.

So yup, I lost a teensy bit of weight again this week, despite essentially doubling my calories over the past month. At therapy on Thursday, R made me stay to see one of the doctors on staff there because he was worried that I was medically unstable, or something dramatic like that. (I was fine.) Then he added another Boost to my meal plan and told me that if I haven't gained X lbs by July 15, I'm going to treatment. Pressure's on, I guess. I tried arguing with him that that's crazy because I'm eating well and doing SO much better mentally, but R wouldn't budge. According to him, it is not acceptable for me to be losing weight, regardless of the circumstances, and that it would be too scary for him to let it continue.

I pouted for a little while over that. I was afraid that R thought I was being a deviant little bugger by lying and pretending to care about recovery while actually continuing to restrict, business as usual. But then he said: "Kaylee, I believe you. But if in a month from now you're still doing everything you can and not getting better, then we need to get you more help. This isn't a punishment."

So, it's not really about just playing the game and following the rules anymore. I'm doing everything I'm supposed to, but it's not enough, apparently. It's time to bite the bullet and make it work.

In other news, I'm getting really sick of Boost. I'm also sick of my beefed up weekly grocery bill. Has anyone ever made their own milkshakes with like ice cream and fruit and stuff? I'm thinking that might be a way to mix things up and save some money. I don't have a blender, but my roommate and I might go halvsies on a cheap one. Any smoothie/shake recipes or tips are welcome!

Rogue Metabolism

Well, even with the most recovery-oriented intentions in the world, I can't seem to eat enough to put on weight. I saw J, my dietician today, and my weight is down again. I'd like to think J trusts me, but I guess I can't blame her for being skeptical when I promised that I had been following the meal plan and drinking Boost all week. Seriously guys, I did. I don't know why my body has decided to play this sick game with me. Really, the irony is not lost on me. After months of resisting the meal plan and turning up my nose at Boosts, I finally start trying to gain and I can't. Granted, I'm not eating an insanely high number of calories, but enough compared to my previous baseline that I should be gaining, not losing.

So once I persuaded J that I really had been compliant and wasn't lying to her, we had a long talk about funky refeeding metabolism antics. Interestingly, she told me that she often sees overweight patients who are restricting their intakes and can't lose weight - that they actually need to eat more to lose weight, just because their metabolisms have slowed down so drastically. I try to avoid overthinking my metabolism, but I suppose I should be happy that my body is actually waking up and responding to food.  Still, the concept that eating more = weight loss just doesn't seem logical to me any way you slice it.

I was having a lot of mixed feelings about the whole thing. I mean, who wouldn't be thrilled to eat more and lose weight? It sounds like one of those ridiculous diet plan infomercials. And normally, I would be thrilled, except that I signed a contract three weeks ago agreeing to enter treatment if my weight ever dropped below a certain number - which, according to J, I am just barely above. She promised me that if I fall below that number while faithfully following her meal plan, then that's her fault, not mine, and that we would adjust the contract accordingly. Still, I hate that I am genuinely trying really hard in treatment for the first time in, like, ever - and still can't swing it!

To my mind, I'm making huge changes. I've switched to full fat yogurt. I drink X Boost Pluses a day. I cook with butter and oil. In the past week alone, I've eaten pizza and cupcakes and quesadillas. So no, the weight loss doesn't make sense, and it feels like I'm getting cheated. Every time I chug a Boost or scoop out my double-the-fat-and-calories Chobani, I feel gross and guilty but tell myself that it will be worth it. That it will make me better. That it will put an end to the pain and fatigue, to the constant eye infections, to the clumps of hair that come out in the shower every morning. But when I get on the scale, the number tells me I'm getting sicker, not better, and that the anxiety and disgust weren't worth anything.

Life Updatage

I feel like I've been writing about my treatment and recovery a lot lately - probably because that has been on my mind A LOT, but there's other stuff going on in my life too. My internship, for one, takes up most of my time during the week. I'm technically supposed to be working only thirty hours, but I tend to stay longer and volunteer for extra assignments because I enjoy it so much. My supervisors have been awesome and give me the independence to take on my own projects, which I really appreciate. I'm discovering that I actually have real interests and passions and talents outside of anorexia - who knew?

I also really like the other interns. In particular, I've gotten super close with two other girls my age, so it's nice to have lunch buddies and someone to grab coffee with and all that. The only semi-tricky part of the equation is that both girls are not-significantly-but-somewhat overweight, so calories/weight/exercise etc. are definitely common topics of conversation. I try to steer clear but, well, you know how it goes. Other than that, though, they are awesome and make the workday that much more fun.

On the weekends, my friends and I are taking advantage of the free time to explore College City and do things we're too busy for during the school year. Lots of spontaneous activities, let me tell you. So far we've been to the zoo, a couple museums, a massive old cathedral, farmers' markets, a baseball game, an outdoor play, and at least three new restaurants. The other night, my roommate and I had a friend over to the apartment to make pizza and drinks and eat cupcakes. I KNOW. Who am I? I'm not getting a ton of alone time, which is usually hard for me, but lately the distractions seem to be keeping me sane.

A few weeks ago, my roommate and I also started working in a food pantry for people with HIV or cancer. They come in and fill out grocery lists for a months' supply of food; we then fill their orders from the grocery center in the back, scan their items, and help them bring the loads to their cars. Sometimes it's boring work, but it has also been really satisfying to get over myself and my own food hangups, and do something useful. I take real pride in filling the orders accurately and getting people in and out efficiently. It's also a great chance to meet new people and chat and just, like, learn about the world around me. My life is so privileged compared to ninety percent of the population it's not even a little bit funny, and I never want to forget that. Remind me never to gripe about the cost of Boost ever again.

Um, what else? My aunt, uncle, and cousin were passing through College City this weekend, so I got dinner with them last night. My body image was sucking big time but other than that, not a whole lot of anxiety or obsessing over the meal. They actually even put the wrong sauce on my dish but instead of freaking out and picking around it or sending it back, I was all like whatevs no biggie, I'll eat it anyway.  Well, in the end I didn't actually eat a whole lot of it because the sauce they gave me was gross, but that was purely a taste/texture thing and not an ED thing. But who came home and had a Boost to make up for it? Oh, just me.

Contracted

When I came back to College City about three weeks ago, R suggested we write up a contract to make therapy more productive. Basically, the contract states that I must gain each week or the meal plan will get boosted; and that if I ever fall below XXX lbs, I will get admitted to an IP program. Seems harsh, maybe, but I've honestly been willing to cooperate anyway. What I like about the contract is that it lays out clearly defined goals - in addition to those two major overarching stipulations, we also set weekly goals in each appointment, like "add X to lunch" or "drink Y supplements on Z days" or stuff like that.

So far, I've met every goal - including gainage. Today, though, R pointed out that despite me following the meal plan and drinking Boost, I gained a whopping total of a tenth of a pound since my last appointment. And apparently that doesn't exactly cut it. Although I satisfied the official goal of "gain each week," that doesn't necessarily mean I'm a robust picture of health. And while I genuinely want recovery and don't want to be sick anymore, that's a lot easier to say when I'm not actually gaining any real weight. Part of me is incredibly relieved, thinking: I want recovery just as long as I can stay underweight.

The next step, according to R, will be to set more concrete, substantial weight-gain goals. We didn't talk specific numbers yet, but he was pretty clear on the fact that gaining a tenth of a pound a week is not okay anymore. Probably starting next week, we will include a minimum weekly rate of gain. I'm not exactly sure what a reasonable rate is...maybe around a pound a week - does that sound right? I think that's approximately how fast I gained last year, although it seemed to happen in fits and starts rather than in a linear pattern. I'm a little hesitant to commit to that again, but I know it needs to happen. At the rate I'm going, I won't reach a minimum healthy BMI for, like, three years. So that needs to change. And for now, I'm okay with that. Ask me again in a few months when I'm feeling fat and horrendous...but for now, that seems reasonable.

The idea of a contract scared me at first. I didn't want to commit to something I might not do. I didn't want consequences - that made it feel too much like I was getting in trouble. But now, well, I've undergone such a mental shift that I think I would be eating to gain regardless, but I really like having it laid out in black and white. It's also making me realize that I don't want to just scrape by. Yes, I am doing what is required of me by gaining 0.1 lb a week, but I'm not getting healthier. I'm not conquering the hard, yucky stuff that keeps me mired in the eating disorder. I'm not breaking down any walls. And if I'm not doing any of that, then what's the point?

Sugar Substitutes

I barely use it anymore, but I used to pour massive quantities of Splenda into my coffee every morning. When I was really sick, I also used to suck on lots of sugar-free candy, drink lots of diet soda, etc. My sweet tooth seems to have gone into hibernation over the past couple years and now, the thought of desecrating my coffee with fake sugar seems like a crime against nature. Not sure how I used to consume such sickeningly sweet stuff all the time, but my taste buds have definitely changed.

Anyway, this article caught my eye because I remember swiping packets of Splenda from coffee shops and keeping a stash in my bag at all times. It's kind of a dense read for the less scientifically-inclined, but still pretty informative: Choosing a Sugar Substitute.

There's also an interesting paragraph near the end about the sugar content and satiety factor of liquid calories...although for my own sanity, I had to selectively gloss over it a little, Boost in hand.

Contemplating Calories

I saw my dietician J yesterday morning before work and even though I've been pretty much almost following the meal plan and drinking Boost every day, I STILL lost weight. Huh? I wish I tell you I was devastated that all my hard work didn't lead to any gain, but...not so much. It's not like I was overjoyed either, mostly just confused. J and I went through my meal plan and tweaked some stuff, so maybe we'll see some gainage next week. Hopefully. Gaining is good. Right?

J actually had me drink a Boost in her office because, to use her words, it would make her "feel better" about sending me on my way. I think she was trying to capitalize on my tentative new motivation, since I've declined all offers to toss back a supplement with her or R in the past. So I think she sensed that I might actually agree to it this time, which I did, and I survived. Then she gave me another bottle for later, since I had mentioned that I was out of them at home. Hey, if I keep this up, I could save some serious money. Recovery is expensive!

In my appointment, we also talked about how I'm still having some trouble with social eating. Restaurants definitely, that's a given, but even eating my own food with others isn't easy. For example, I've been bringing my lunch to work and eating with two other girls for the past couple weeks, but I still find it super awkward and uncomfortable. The situation is a little tricky for a couple of reasons: A) both girls are overweight, B) I get self-conscious about eating the exact same lunch every day, and C) When I bring my full J-approved lunch, I can't finish it in the time the other girls take to eat their lunches. I suppose I could condense my lunch by making a more calorie-laden sandwich or drinking juice instead of water, but that seems impossible for some reason. Lately I've been munching discreetly on the rest of my lunch later at my desk, but that messes with my head too, for some inexplicable reason.

On a happier note, some friends and I had lunch in a new coffee/sandwich place today - my second such outing in as many Saturdays, aren't you proud? I'm having some icky guilt and panicky feelings about not knowing the calorie count of my sandwich, but I keep telling myself that it wasn't excessive, I'm not overly full, and I'm trying to gain anyway. Duh. Why is this so hard to wrap my mind around?

Speaking of calories, I'm having a little internal debate with myself lately - namely, how to deal with the counting issue. I've written before about my calorie-counting obsession, which is still pretty much as powerful as ever. Lots of times I find myself willing to up my intake and try new foods, but I get caught up in how to tally them and fit them into my personally-prescribed quota. Obviously I've upped my calories over the past week or so, but not by a ton, and I'm still very much mired in this twisted desire to make everything add up neatly. Also, consuming more than certain calorie levels is literally beyond my imaginative capabilities at this point, so I'm always careful to make sure that my daily intake stays within an acceptable range.

Although J never says the c-word with me, I have a pretty good estimate of her meal plan's calorie content. I've been wondering if I should just start insisting on some transparency both ways - her telling me exactly how many calories she wants to eat, and me telling her exactly how many I am eating. (To be clear: I am always 100% truthful with her about my food intake, we just don't discuss calories explicitly.) Honestly, I'm going to be counting calories anyway. That is one area of recovery in which I've made zero progress whatsoever, and I don't see it changing anytime soon. Maybe it would be better to just have that out in the open and learn to deal with a higher number. It might also help J and I communicate more effectively on weeks like this one - when I feel like I'm doing well, but still lose weight.

So that's my dilemma. I'm torn about whether to just embrace the calorie-counting as a tool to gauge how my body and metabolism are functioning, or if I should really be working harder to kick the habit altogether.

Not Sick Anymore

Reading back over my last post, I realize it may seem like I'm in a pretty low place. I'm not. Actually, I'm doing really well. I love my new internship, my apartment, my friends, my city, and my Starbucks. I do not love Boost, weight gain, or hormone reactivation zits, but alas, life goes on. Yesterday, I saw R and we had what was, I think, one of the best sessions ever. Seriously, I felt validated and motivated and inspired. It was awesome. Go R.

It started when R asked about my eating this past week, and I said in a tiny little voice that I had actually done damn good, and that I was maybe sort of feeling a little bit more cooperative. He asked me what had changed, since I've never really admitted to feeling cooperative at all before. Without really thinking about it, I heard myself say: "I don't want to be sick anymore."

To say that R was ecstatic would be an understatement. I think I thrilled the poor guy's socks off. He took my quiet, wimpy little assertion and ran with it. We made a big long list of things that I'll be able to say when I'm truly "not sick anymore." I want to write them all down before I forget, and share them with you guys as well.

1) eating enough to maintain a healthy weight (ahem as defined by R and J)
2) having regular periods (Yes, every month. I KNOW. How do people do it? Tampons are expensive.)
3) not counting calories or measuring food
4) able to eat spontaneously and socially
5) not obsessive about food and/or weight
6) little to no anxiety about food
7) able to cope with non-food-related anxiety without resorting to unhealthy behaviors
8) no chronic health issues relating to malnutrition
9) balanced approach to body image (aka even if body image sucks, being able to shrug it off and move on sans meltdown)
10) accepting of myself (not relating to body image)

Anyone have anything to add to the list? My OCD is quite pleased to have a nice even ten, but I'd welcome suggestions!

In other news:
- I love my internship. Have I said that already? Don't care.
- As of this moment, I've got a 10-day streak going of full Boost compliance
- My phone broke. Boo. I've only had a smartphone for about six months, and I'm already unsure of how I'm going to survive the rest of the day without it. HOW AM I GONNA CHECK MY E-MAIL IN THE GROCERY STORE? OR AT THE GAS STATION?

Okay, that's all for now. Happy Thursday!

The Rollercoaster

Earlier today I left work in an awesome mood when I realized this: a little over a week ago, I was sitting in a psychiatrist's office trying not to cry while I described to her the horrible, paralyzing, black hole of anxiety and depression I was stuck in. I'd been crying nonstop for the past several days and had no freaking clue how I was going to make it through the rest of the day, much less a whole summer. I've been depressed before, but this was the most gripping, intense, terrifying episode ever. I've never ever worried about my emotional issues getting in the way of my "real" life before, but that was the closest I've ever felt to nonfunctional.

Obviously now, I'm feeling a lot better. Not great, just better. Steadier. Things are looking brighter again. I started taking a new medication for the anxiety/depression last Saturday, so I've got to assume that that's had some effect. Plus, I love my new internship. LOVE IT. I don't want to leave the office at the end of the day because I'm so in love with my work. That has definitely had a positive impact on my mood.

But. But but but. Why do I still feel so unstable? It's like I can't maintain an even keel for any length of time. I go from curled up sobbing and frozen by misery and fear...to fine. I know I wasn't hallucinating a week ago. I really was that miserable. It was real. But now I'm wondering what the heck I was so upset about, and feeling stupid for losing it. I don't want to believe that the medication is truly working, keeping me sane, because I don't want to be on it and I hate needing it. I probably sound like a broken record on this, but drugs freak me the fuck out and I don't want them in me.

I'm not super happy right now, but I'm okay. I'm not depressed. My anxiety is under control. I can go to work and eat lunch with the other interns, then come home and hang out and cook dinner with my roommate. That's all fine with me at the moment, but I'm scared of falling apart again. My emotions feel so completely beyond my control right now that I don't trust myself to hold it together. I hate being this nervous, skittish, unstable person. I didn't used to be like this.

At the same time, I'm making a life for myself. I have an amazing internship that is both challenging and fulfilling. I have friends who I love and trust. I have the best parents in the world. I'm eating, drinking Boost*, and wanting to recover. Why can't I just be happy and go with it and stop worrying about when it will end? I know that I probably won't ever go back to being the person I was before having anorexia, but I'd like to have some sense of constancy, to know that my mind won't turn on me. Maybe that's too much to expect when I'm still underweight and hugely mired in ED thoughts and compulsions, but I wish it were a straighter road to normal.

*For those of you keeping track, I'm still drinking all Boosts as prescribed!

Ode to Boost

Today marks one full week of Boost compliance. People, this is huge. I don't do Boost. Even when I'm doing really well and coming close to following the full meal plan, I ALWAYS skimp on supplements. There is not one square inch of my brain that can justify the logic of drinking liquified calories manufactured for the sole purpose of making me gain weight. INSANITY. But now, you know what? I'm sick and I want to get better, and calories are the cure. So I'm maybe kinda sorta seeing the point of Boost. Sorry it took me this long, R!

For some reason, I'm also finding it a lot easier to just drink a Boost every afternoon instead of trying to figure out how to add in more food. Basically, my meal plan hasn't really changed a whole lot over the last week (although I am adding some food, of course). The only major difference is the Boost. When I've tried to gain weight in the past, I wanted to micromanage every last calorie that went into my mouth. I would spend hours calculating various concoctions to fill my meal plan quota - which foods I could eat, how I could divide them up, what times I would eat, etc. Now, I really have no desire to do that again. I'm tired of food. Tired of eating it, tired of thinking about it, tired of caring about it. Whereas supplements always seemed like a waste of calories to me before, I'm now grateful to be able to up my intake without changing my daily routine all that much.

I hope it doesn't sound like I'm replacing food with Boost - I'm definitely not! My dietician gave me a pretty solid meal plan last Friday and I'm doing my best to follow it. It's just that for the first time ever, I think, I find myself preferring to just close my eyes, pinch my nose, slurp up my XXX calories of medicine, and go on with my day.  Maybe it's because my primary motivation right now is restoring my health, and that makes it easier to see calories as serving some purpose beyond just chubbing me up. Never before have I seen calories in a positive light. I mean, I know they keep you alive and all, but my sole focus for much of the last eight or nine years has been to minimize calories. Calories were disgusting, evil things. It feels strange to really and truly understand that I need them.

A Happy Saturday

Wow, can anyone else not believe it's June?? When I was little, I remember feeling like time moved soooo sloooowly. Now, it flies. Does this mean I'm getting old?

I had a lovely Saturday. My friend and I worked at a food pantry in downtown College City for a few hours this morning. It was a lot of mindless packing, organizing, bagging, scanning, etc. which I actually really enjoyed. It was nice to just turn off my brain and do something tangible and useful. The guys that worked there were definitely characters - super funny and friendly and welcoming. We had such a good time that we're planning to go back next weekend, especially since it seemed like the extra hands were much appreciated.

We ended up staying at the food bank through lunch. I had packed a snack, but never found the "right" time to eat it. And honestly, I was so busy and distracted that I never got very hungry. After we left, I was planning to come home and eat my typical lunch but then suddenly, for some reason, I just didn't want to. My same old boring sandwich just seemed so unappetizing in my head. So I suggested we walk over to this nice lunch place near our apartment that I've been meaning to try since freshman year. Spontaneous eating - check! It was so good. So satisfying. I was full in a warm, delicious, good way. Now I'm having the typical guilt from breaking routine and eating more than usual, but such is life.

Speaking of food, I saw my dietician J yesterday morning for the first time in over a month. Overall, it was a pretty positive session, at least compared to past ones. I think that was because I was, for the first time in a long time, ready to actually commit and engage. We wrote out a new meal plan (since I hadn't been compliant with the old one in, um, a while) and I found myself agreeing to it not just outwardly, but inwardly as well. Some of the stuff is definitely going to be a struggle, but I really feel like my head is in a good place to tackle it.

This newfound motivation still feels a little strange, but I'm going with it. That's good, right? Promise me this is gonna be worth it? I'm going to keep putting it in writing so you guys can hold me accountable and I don't chicken out: Gaining weight is good. It's okay to eat. I'm done being sick.