This morning was kind of a struggle. The trigger was obvious: I weighed myself. But Kaylee! you might ask, Don't you weigh yourself every morning, you crazy, obsessive, neurotic, fat-phobic ED freak? Well yes, I used to. In fact, I have recorded my weight every morning for the past three or four years now, except for a couple times while traveling or something without access to a scale. But since realizing that the Chub Drug has been pushing my weight up no matter WTF I eat, I decided that stepping on the scale was way too depressing, so I stopped. I still pull it out a couple times a week just to check, but on average I've been weighing much less often than before.
Well, I switched meds about a week or two ago, and New Drug supposedly has a smaller possibility of causing weight gain than Chub Drug. So I held off weighing for a while after switching just to give the Chub Drug a chance to get out of my system and this morning, I decided to check. Big mistake. I am at my highest weight in about four or five years, and I am double-digits more than I was six months ago. (Granted, my weight in May nearly landed me in the hospital, but still.) The jeans I've been wearing since 2009 don't fit anymore. This sucks. So I started the day off crying after a pretty semi-okay week or so, and now I'm feeling just about as low as ever. The eye doctor did not give me good news yesterday, and I'm in pretty terrible pain, and New Drug is turning me into a zombie, and I'm so fucking sick and tired of this I'm just about ready to give up. I was so hopeful that gaining weight and eating a balanced diet would help resolve some of my issues, but no. Nothing. I don't understand how my body can be all porked up and still so incredibly unhealthy. This can't last forever, right? It must be fundamentally impossible for one person to be so miserable forever. Right?
Sorry for this one. I don't really talk about this stuff in real life, so you guys get the brunt of it. Hope everyone's doing okay, love you all.