I've had to make quite the to-do list for the week ahead, between studying for finals, writing my papers, working on thesis stuff, dealing with application stuff, and juggling all of my doctors' appointments. I have six (yes, SIX) appointments Wednesday to Friday—ED doc and psychiatrist on Wednesday; ophthalmologist on Thursday; and pain doc, PT, and therapy on Friday. Whew! I didn't exactly plan things that way, it just sort of worked out. It's reading week so I don't have class, plus I'm leaving for winter break on Saturday, so I guess it makes sense to squeeze them all in.
I am a little nervous about heading home. It's partly because last year, I sank into a pretty horrible depression over winter break. My anxiety was also completely out of control and I was basically incapable of functioning like a normal person. I keep trying to tell myself that I'm in a different place now compared to back then. Last December, my pain issues had just started to kick in, and I was terrified about what was happening to my body. I saw two doctors here in College City before going home, and then two more doctors in Home City, and none of them could figure out what the hell was wrong with me. I wasn't eating well, barely sleeping, crying all the time, and having near-panic attacks on a daily basis. Now, I'm not feeling a whole lot better physically, but not knowing what was causing my ever-intensifying pain was the scariest, most horrible experience I've ever been through, and I am so thankful to be past that. I am also having regular periods now, which wasn't happening a year ago, and my eyes seem to be maybepossiblyhopefully on the road to recovery (knockonwoodknockonwoodknockonwood). Plus I am on an anti-anxiety medication that has been incredibly helpful. My anxiety, which was very quickly destroying my ability to function last year, is literally not an issue at all anymore. So maybe I really am in a better place, even though it doesn't always feel like that.
My body image is, yet again, in the damn gutter. Really wish this weren't so important to me, and that I could have some other, more productive, less shallow obsession. I've always had a hard time accepting my body (goes back to those dreadful, traumatic, pubertal preteen years) so it's unclear how much of this obsession is a symptom of the eating disorder, and how much is just my own lifelong insecurity. Not sure if it really matters at this point, since either way, I feel terrible about my body. I brought this up with R last week, and he said something like, "But XXX [my weight] is perfectly healthy for your height." NOT HELPFUL. My body feels like a fat suit that I can't wait to take off.
That being said, my mood has been up a little bit the past week or so, which is nice. I find it hard to believe that I might have some control over my mood and outlook, but sometimes I do really just need to suck it up and remind myself of the good stuff, and take some initiative about having a positive attitude.
Happy end-of-the semester to all the students reading, and happy December to everyone else!