I thought I’d start with a photo 🙂 say hello to my dinner. Hello dinner! This is a repeat of my lunch from a few days ago – a homemade wheat-free wrap (although this was too full to wrap, and so turned into a pizza-like entity) spread with tomato puree and pumkpin seed butter (hence the green!), with stir fried smoked tofu, red pepper, chestnut mushrooms and onion. OH YUM. A new favourite.
SO. I had another appointment at the EDU earlier. I have gained 3.5lbs since last week. I already knew this because I weighed myself on my own scales this morning, so I’d be prepared. Bizarrely enough it only freaked me out for about half a second, then I thought, oh good, that’s three pounds I don’t have to gain later. No shame, no guilt, the briefest flash of ‘omigod’ before I remembered that in the first week, that is perfectly natural. My old therapist told me once that some people gain up to 8lbs during their first week in hospital. Thinking about it, I gained 3.5lbs in a week when I got back on track after a relapse last May too. Then, without changing what I was eating, the rate of gain slowed down to 1-2lbs a week. I just have to trust my body to obey biology.
This complete lack of being fazed about the weight gain was a bit confusing. Last time I was trying to recover (well, doing the best I could considering that I was depressed and had virtually no motivation beyond not wanting to end up IP), every pound I gained made me feel weak, exposed, guilty and ashamed. I hated being weighed, although I knew the staff wanted me to recover I even felt like they were judging me for gaining weight – was I doing it too fast (a pound a week, boy, what a whale. Rolling of eyes), did they think I was just being pathetic and should easily be able to maintain a low BMI like some of the post-IP girls were doing, did they think I was wasting treatment that someone far sicker and having a much harder time recovering could have used. Clearly I was not having trouble in recovery if I was gaining weight without being forced to. It was all rather torturous. But this morning I bounced onto the scales in front of the nurse, grinned at her, and finished with ‘go me, yes?’. Um. Who am I and where has Katie gone? The rest of the appointment was equally strange, with the nurse staring at me like I was an alien while I babbled on about all the changes I’d made on my own since last week. I am making her job too easy 😛
The waiting list for the day programme is quite long at the moment apparently, so it’s a good job that I’m doing well. This is very premature of me, but I’m beginning to wonder if I will need it at all. I know I need to stay in therapy, but the EDU isn’t willing to assign me a therapist, so I am considering finding one privately. I know I need to stay in contact with the EDU in case anything goes wrong, but I am not sure that the day programme will be much use to me now I’ve gotten out of my rut. Certainly not four days a week of it anyway – maybe one or two. Monday they all cook and eat the same meal, which would mean the other poor girls having to eat vegan, gluten free cardboard, Wednesday is art therapy and the aggressive therapist who freaked me out last time, and on Friday there’s the managing emotions group, which I have done three cycles of and is run by my old therapist who I am not allowed to see this time, so that would probably a. not teach me anything new and b. be terribly awkward, painful and embarrassing for me. Tuesday might be good (recovery group and social afternoon), but I don’t know what they would say to an ex patient swanning back 30lbs lighter than the weight she was discharged at six months ago, begging to be referred to the day programme, and then turning around a few weeks later and insisting that she will only come in one day a week. I suppose the only thing I can do is see how long the waiting list turns out to be, and how I feel when I get to the top of it.
In the meantime I have a list of private therapists to phone tomorrow. I am done with the NHS. I imagine that the NHS feels the same way about me – I’ve been in therapy on and off since I was sixteen, and generally most people in the UK are lucky to get 12 sessions of CBT.
I had lots of other stuff to talk about but I am really tired (‘jetlag’ from the clocks going forward probably! You wouldn’t think it would have that much effect – it’s only an hour – but I always feel a bit weird for a few days after they change) and I am going to be at home on my own all morning tomorrow, so I’m going to leave you with another picture from my bedroom wall. I think the fact that I have this bluetacked up next to my bed shows that whilst I may be feeling good about recovering from anorexia, I am in fact an incurable nerd. Oh well, there are worse things.
(if it doesn’t come out properly it’s a drawing of the Large Hadron Collider, with the screen reading ‘Secrets of the universe: always heat the teapot before putting the tea leaves in.’ and the scientists saying ‘Remind me, how much did we spend on this machine?’. Harhar 😛 )
Night night people 🙂