AtypicallyRecovering

I’ve been at this for 2 years in my 6th decade of life, and it’s been hell. Some of that is from the gross ignorance of the medical field in regards to nutrition and assessing for eating disorders in someone who isn’t so thin they’re see-through. Some of that is from not knowing anything except restriction from the age of 6 when my own mother bribed me to lose weight when I didn’t have anything extra on me. Some of that is from nobody connecting the dots because I’m farmed out to so many specialists that never talk to each other (or read the other docs’ notes) that I’m the one stuck with being my own primary care health professional (thank God I went to nursing school in the early 80s when we had to know things, not just look them up- and if we couldn’t perform the skills for that class, we didn’t pass; we were ‘floor ready’ the day after graduation, even if we still had a lot of experience to gain). And, I think a lot is because most doctors now just don’t care- I’m something to get checked off of the to-do list for the day.

Physically, I’ve put up with the bloating and pain of eating more for this last 2 years. The first six months weren’t as bad as they are now, because I finally know how much I need to eat in terms of numbers, and am doing my damnedest to get there- but at what cost? A 5 oz container of cottage cheese had me bloated up to the point of triggering the dysautonomia that has a huge impact on heat regulation. But, when the 200gm baked potato was done, I shoved it in along with the cheese, bit of butter, and sour cream to get the ‘numbers’ up (while not risking going over on protein because of kidney disease- having to figure all of that out in advance so it’s not all used up during one part of the day), and spent the afternoon wishing I was a puke pro, because of the discomfort that has lasted for hours, as well as massive discouragement in not doing better after 2 fucking years.

When I’ve been to the collection of doctors I’m required to see to get meds renewed, continuous glucose monitor supplies, etc, they ALL see the tube that’s been hanging out of my face for 2 years to be sure I can get enough water in to keep my kidneys from more damage, and yet not a single one has ever bothered with any nutrition related questions. Not one has offered to help with a prescription for supplies (so I pay out of pocket for everything on a disability income). I probably need to see a GI doc, but the last endoscopy done with the local group of GI docs (and one very snarly nurse practitioner), the endoscopy anesthesiologist gave the propofol from across the room, in the port on the IV tubing about 5 feet from my body, so when it got to me, it was diluted to the point that i got drowsy, but was awake the entire time. The nurses tried to tell her that I was awake, but she muttered something about my gag reflex not being impacted any less with more propofol… it wasn’t my damn gag reflex- I HEARD AND FELT everything. So, I’m debating on which is worse- dying from starvation and kidney failure or seeing another doctor. The latter seems suicidal by commission.

I’m angry about the level of self-hate that continues, but nothing anyone has said has changed that. I have a therapist who understands eating disorders very well (arguably, someone who understands the root cause as self-hate, and has ‘gotten it’ longer than anyone else I’ve heard of since the mid-late 90s; clue- control as a reason is BS, and it’s not about skinny models/fashion- it’s about not feeling worth taking up space on the planet), and a dietician who is also very knowledgable. Both are very easy to work with. I’m lucky in that regard. But at what point is it more masochistic to keep this up? At what point is it more humane to just go back to how I was, and deal with the consequences? If it were my dog that felt this bad on a regular basis, I’d never forgive myself for not letting her go peacefully. I don’t have any interest in dying. But this isn’t even hardly living. I exist. I have stuff I need to get done, but the discomfort from eating, as well as other physical pain keeps me unable to do more than the bare minimum most days. I feel totally defeated- and I’m ashamed to even mention this to doctors because I’m not a stick insect. I have weight to lose. I’m told I have to eat more to get my metabolism up so I lose weight naturally. For someone who has NEVER eaten properly because of how food was handled at home, eating more is beyond painful. It feels inherently wrong because of inflicted shame regarding food and eating. I know that part is my ‘head’ – but that doesn’t mean that the physical torment is worth it, or somehow not ‘real’. If this was the first 6 months, I’d be (and was) more tolerant. But now, it just seems like more self-hate to keep doing this. And, I’ll be told that’s my eating disorder. So, why say anything more. I can’t think of anything I haven’t already said.

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