I saw my dietician on Friday and I'm pretty sure J could tell that I was omgfreakingout about weight gain, and took the time to talk me down and it actually made me feel a lot better. Well, a little better. Apparently it doesn't matter how motivated I am to be recovered and eat real food and live a healthy, fulfilling life - weight gain sucks no matter how you look at it. But J promised me that I'm not eating too much, I'm not gaining too quickly, and basically, that life will go on after weight restoration. That was all helpful and nice to hear...just wish I didn't feel so blobby and gross all the time.
In related news, my body is absolutely baffled by this period business. I'll be nauseated with no appetite all day but still force down my usual meal plan, and then get attacked by this incredible, ravenous hunger out of nowhere around 6 p.m. Then I go back to feeling sick and full after dinner. My weight dropped a pound the first day, then shot up three pounds the second day and is STILL stuck up there. (Someone assure me this is normal.) I'm usually always thirsty, but lately the thought of water makes my stomach turn. Hormones, what are you trying to tell me?
Now that I've spent the last ten minutes complaining about my body, I swear I did other stuff this weekend besides moan and cry about how fat I'm getting. Case in point: Friday night, I got dinner from a food truck! No menu ahead of time, no calories on the menu, nothing. I definitely did some pre-meal stressing, but in the end it turned out well. There wasn't a ton of guilt afterwards, mostly because the line was horrendous and we had to wait for almost an hour. By the time I actually ate, I was practically passing out from hunger and was like give me food any food NOW. So I probably would have eaten anything by that point, but it was a new adventure nonetheless.
On Saturday, I helped a woman carry her groceries out to her car from the food bank where I work. Somehow we got to talking, and I spent about 30 minutes in the parking lot listening to her life story. She was a licensed psychologist, but had been diagnosed with cancer and received five death sentences from different doctors before...surviving. She's been cancer-free for eight years, but told me that's she's always scared. When we were walking to her car, she mentioned off-hand, "I'm really tired today. Whenever I get tired I worry that the cancer's coming back."
And I don't have cancer, obviously, and I'm not claiming that anorexia is the same as cancer, but I know what it's like to be sick and scared and worry that life is going to be like that forever. I don't know if it was comforting or depressing to meet someone else with the same fears, but I liked this woman and she gave me a hug before leaving, so that was nice.
Sorry this is random and boring, but things are busy at work and my apartment lost internet AGAIN. Oh and apparently, my bedroom ceiling is about to cave in. Funny how the landlord didn't mention that when he inspected the place last week... So hopefully I'll be able to post something more substantial soon. Hope everyone's having a good week!