Straight in the door of my nurse appointment today and I was up on the scales. I was super anxious after being out of a routine over holidays and was really reluctant to be weighed as I wasn’t sure I could deal with the fall out (I was sure I had gained a massive amount). However, my nurse is very effective at not taking no for an answer so there I was, waiting for it to set at 0.0 before I could step on and face the number that was terrifying me.
It was up. But only by 0.2 kg, which is really nothing for me now- my weight has been stable for nearly 6 months now so I can deal with minor fluctuations like this. I don’t like them, and I did need to sit with it for a few moments, but I got through it. It’s typical for people to gain a little on holiday and they naturally readjust when they come back and in any case it wasn’t anything significant (I could probably have peed out 0.2kg before going in if I’d been made to!). I ate out quite a bit over holidays and I had been binging/purging etc. so in fact I’m pretty impressed that my body has just kept plodding along at this weight despite all of that. This is my set weight and my body can cope with life at this number it seems.
At the beginning of this summer my new nurse said if I wanted her help I had to trust the theory that if I ate enough, got to and stayed at my set point then recovery would start being easier and I would eventually find the balance of food and life. I have teetered on this time and time again for many years but this time I went for it, I trusted her and tested the theory.
I kept eating. I ate more amounts. I ate more variety. I ate in different places. I ate at different times. I ate from different plates. I ate with different people. I ate different lunches. I ate different dinners. I ate seconds. I ate desserts. I ate snacks. I ate at work. I ate at home. I ate in the park. I ate in the library. I ate with family. I ate with friends. I ate with strangers, I ate things I thought I didn’t like. I ate without reading the label. I ate without measuring. I ate when I was tired. I ate when I was celebrating. I ate when I was busy. I….just….ate. Because we need food to live and I wanted to live.
It wasn’t easy but it is getting easier. The binging is notably less and it seems to have lost its power over me. I’m working on the purging and while that is still an issue it feels manageable now. I couldn’t bear my body a few months ago but now I am starting to make peace with it.
The theory was that if I got to my set point and ate enough to fuel my lifestyle, then I would get myself in a position where I can make sensible decisions about recovery. The theory seemed to be have been right. The view looks pretty good from here 🙂