my status quo is comprised of allowing ideas and suggestions to *compost* somewhere in my cerebellum. it is rare that i have a strong opinion or solid point of view UNTIL this rumination occurs. also, i am not a fan of unedited text [read: amy's thoughts and feelings]. i choose carefully the words that i ALLOW to flow through my fingertips. today, however, feels different.
it is now moments after my dietition appt. i will normally fidget and twist for days b/f i allow myself to even THINK about the session. but the compost-vining has already begun....or? i am simply filled with opposition and explosiveness.
usually, in hindsight, i will recognize that i was restless and full of angst during the appt. today the awareness of my inability to sit still was colossal. the more i tried to sit still the more her sandpaper questions rubbed me raw- more questions pertaining to behaviors such as biting into foods, where i prefer the bite in my mouth, texure, and swallowing. unexpectedly, she began talking directly about weight.... and i started to cry. YEP! no no no, it's not that time of the month, ladies...where i usually break down for little reason. i suddenly felt scrutinized and ugly and [please excuse this next adjective- although offensive, it IS the exact word that screamed at me] dykey. it was painful to try to explain why i was suddenly so weepy.
i avoid feeling that shit as much a possible. i will do ANYTHING to avoid, distract or RID myself of feeling that those adjectives apply to me. she asked me if i thought i was attractive. JESUS! WHO ASKS SUCH POINTED QUESTIONS? i said no, b/c i DON'T think that i am attractive. don't misunderstand, i understand that i am not *stereotypical*. i could have lied and said yes.....but i am trying very diligently to be as honest as possible. but telling the truth, like in this case, prompts people to counter, you know? and i don't want to hear it.
with few minutes of the appt remaining, i am teary and defensive and overflowing with discomfort- she assigns homework. my hands started to shake and i could feel my teeth slightly chattering. she stated that i am to eat every four hours and not go longer than six hours b/t meals. she also stated that i need to eat more for breakfast. this next week...but backed off and agreed to only four times this week.
fuck. i have a hard ENOUGH time trying to get in the god damned breakfast that i MAKE myself eat NOW!!!!!!!! [wailing] i don't want to consume m-o-r-e.... [tears]
the moment i stepped out of the fucking building, i could feel the weepiness overtaking me. but my *logic* kicked in and delivered a fitful message that i couldn't ignore. i was suddenly ANGRY with myself---- b/c for gawd's sakes, amy, this is just food. a basic fucking need, remember? i was all in a twirl about feeling so unstable and shakey while the dietition suggested i eat more breakdfast and more frequently. had i really become that distressed over those suggestions? get it together, amy!
i can't help HATING myself for my resistance and high anxiety. there are people IN MY COMMUNITY that are literally starving. there are people IN MY COMMUNITY that are *bigger* than i am. why do i TORTURE myself over all this? just eat as frequently as i was told- and get in more breakfast! fuck, i hate this.
my alter-ego that PUSHES me to release my secrets here in this blog is bubbling. i have to attend *group* tonight.... blahhhhhhhhh. my therapist informed me that we will have three new-comers....and that all three have conditions to FOLLOW THEIR MEAL PLANS. she told me i will not be alone.... fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! they are probably young, little, skinny twits who probably still look amazingly thin at the gawd forsaken goal weight. i want to cancel.................... but i have commited to two things: going to all my appts and to being as honest as i can be. so???? i will be attending. so watch out: that alter-ego is bubbling....i'm sure i won't be disappointed by having NOTHING to write about. group stirs up shit, let me tell you....
i guess i'll see you tomorrow then, eh?
thank you for reading. the frightening unpredictabilty of this fucking monster is quieted from knowing i am not alone.....
namaste, my sisterhood
amy
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