"Below 100 is not good."

I'm sliding back into protective mode.  I got back up to 100 and was trying really hard to be okay with it, but wasn't and started losing again.  And now I'm being asked, as summer approaches, to get help (again).  I hate saying it, but I don't want to.  I have to see Dr. M in the next couple weeks and I'm currently ten pounds lighter than I was the last time she saw me.  That should be a lovely visit.

I've been getting shaky and dizzy most days for a while now and yesterday I had some chest pains.  I think it was more from the anxiety of testing than anything else but it made me wonder... what would it take to scare me enough to want to get better?  I'm 28 years old and about to turn 29.  I feel so ridiculous to be struggling with this issue, but I just can't seem to let it go.  I would hate for it to take a heart attack to make it all real... 

Clothes Don't Lie

It is definitely not a shocking revelation that I am not capable of seeing 'thinner' in the mirror.  Nor is it surprising that a lower number on the scale does not trigger to my brain that I am in fact thinner. 

I had a horrible Friday night and in the aftermath the rest of the weekend I realized I've seriously got to get my shit together.  I've been playing chicken with my life for a long time now in all sorts of ways.  I of course wanted to immediately place the blame everywhere but on the ED.  So number one was, I need to stop drinking so much.  But then I realized that I don't even drink that much and the sad fact of the matter is that if I ate and wasn't as thin as I am then, I wouldn't even be drunk when I did drink. 

And then started the latest battle of the war inside my head because the ED side of my brain hates it when the logical side starts wanting to make some changes.  I found myself trying to justify that I'm just not that thin, that I haven't really lost that much weight and that it is, of course, not a big deal. 

So I did what makes total sense if you want to remind yourself that you are in fact still fat, pulled out the swimsuits.  This ended up not being a great idea for my fat argument however because my swimsuits were packed away from the last move in October with all my bridesmaids dresses.  My logical self then retaliated by having me try on all the dresses.  Some (when I was biggest though not literally very big) were so ridiculously big that it wouldn't even be possible to alter without remaking the entire dress.  But even the most recent one, when I would argue I was the same size as I am now, would need to be taken in.  There was a dress my mom gave me for school (very business and classic) which I had never been able to wear when she first gave it to me because I couldn't fit into it.  (Also not shocking probably to know that my mom in her youth was also what some would call too thin.) Then when I tried it on last year it was still just a little snug around the hips for comfort at work.  Today it hung on me.  And then the icing on the cake... my junior in high school prom dress... which would also need to be taken in at least an inch or two.

Actual physical unarguable proof that at 28 I am thinner than I was at 16... and I was very thin at 16.  A big part of me felt a victory in this but there is a part that was disgusted and shocked.  I guess the question is, can that part grow and become strong enough to make some changes... I hope so. 

Here we go again...

I stopped writing on my blogs for a long time because I had successfully fooled myself that I was good again.  I let myself be distracted.  Now, I honestly don't feel like I can write on the other one since I shared that one with friends.  So back to the sanctuary of this one.  

Recently the little drama of a break gave a great excuse to pretty much just stop eating.  I honestly didn't even realize I was doing it at first.  Most likely because I hadn't been eating enough for a very long time so it wasn't much of a change.  I was asked yet again to consider checking myself in somewhere as soon as summer started.

This actually really surprised me at first because until that moment I truly didn't see myself as being smaller than I was a few months before.  In fact my weight had stayed pretty much the same, but I guess the number doesn't always tell the whole story.  I did drop weight after that though; I mean I was heartbroken what did anyone expect?  I'm below 100 which my psychiatrist has told me over and over again is 'not good'.  The rate at which I lost was enough, for a little while, to freak me out.

I had the initial little breakdown, feeling like I had failed everyone.  Was definitely going to work out treatment over the summer.  Genuine concern over the math that if unchanged left me at a weight that would kill me within two months.  It's easy to be all about getting help at first when everyone is worried and all you want is for them not to be.

But now I've stopped dropping but am not willing to gain.  The idea of treatment terrifies me because I'm still, even at 28, not ready to give it up.  Wanting to want to get better isn't enough for me to justify the money and time.  I just don't want to fail again.  So currently I'm eating far too little and dealing with all the side effects.  You hear people say it all the time, but it still amazes me that the smaller I get the worse my anxiety is.

So now I'm back where I keep finding myself.  The free 'I just broke up with my boyfriend' pass will not last much longer.  Maybe someday the whole relapse drama will get tiring enough to actually recover instead...