When you’ve done all you can
My plan to challenge myself over the weekend went reasonably well. I couldn’t cope with the thought of eating a burger, so I chose a smoked salmon bagel with spicy cream cheese, peppers, and onion instead. In calorific terms it was almost the same as the burger. For pudding I had a hot cinnamon roll. It was one of the best things I’ve tasted in months. And I successfully cut my exercise by almost half.
Today I went to the doctor’s surgery and weighed myself on the big scale there. It wasn’t done out of eating disordered urges. (For that I would have gone to Boots and weighed myself furtively, not walked in to the doctor’s and politely asked the receptionist if I could note my weight.) I wanted to make sure that I was keeping stable.
Since I stopped weighing myself three weeks ago, I have lost almost a stone. I was so angry and frustrated that I nearly heaved the scale out of the window.
I. Am. Trying. I haven’t been doing anything to lose weight deliberately. I have been following a meal plan and ensuring that I eat at least 2000 calories each day. I’ve been eating a variety of foods, not just the ones that feel safe. That bloody bagel didn’t feel very safe, but I ate it. I’ve also had chocolate. And chips. And bread. All foods that I couldn’t touch at one point. Admittedly my exercise has crept up to extreme levels, as I tried to adjust mentally to not weighing myself multiple times each day. I have not been eating enough to compensate for all the exercise. But as soon as I realised that the exercise was getting to be a problem again, I took steps to check it.
And now I’ve slipped back down and have to re-gain the lost weight. That means upping my intake to about 3500 calories a day. It will take ages and it will be anxiety-provoking and it will mean fending off the thousand and one bloodsucking thoughts that are clustering in my brain right now, whispering that this is good, that I should lose more. When do they go AWAY?
I did everything that was recommended. Swallowed the pills, stuck to the meal plan, went to therapy, and now I’m back down here again. I don’t want to demean my achievements – mentally I’m in much better shape than I was. This is proven by the fact that I am fighting the illness instead of colluding with it. I accept that I need to maintain a healthy weight, and I’m capable of eating a reasonable amount on most days.
So why hasn’t this thing gone away yet? Why am I still ill? What more can I do?