the notebook

Tomorrow is my first day of DBT, and I am panicking because I don't know if I should bring a notebook to write in or not.

I was going to ask Molly on Monday, but she had to cancel on me.

I could just bring one. But if no one else does, I'm going to feel so stupid. I can feel it already. That horrible shame creeping across my face. I'll feel the same way if I don't bring one and everyone else does.

I don't know why I always make stuff like this a huge deal, but I do. This damn notebook dilemma is twisting my stomach up in knots.

I had an appointment with the treatment center doctor last night.

I was anxious about it and about my weight and being weighed, so I didn't eat anything all day. I seriously considered pretending I'd gone suddenly deaf and mute as the doctor's assistant chattered and joked as she took my vitals. The combination of the assistant and the doctor is jarring. The assistant treats me like we're BFF. The doctor treats me like I'm about to shatter into a million pieces.

"What have you been most concerned about in regards to your eating disorder?" The doctors asks.

I want to cringe away from that question. I debate lying, but I'm crabby enough that I tell the truth.

"I feel like I've been eating too much." I say.

"Oh, so, overeating?"

Now I'm both offended and horrified. No. Not overeating. Not like the clinical definition of overeating. The fact that she thinks I'm capable of that fills me with shame.

She's just doing her job. This is what she does.

It doesn't matter. I'm angry now.

I do my best to explain. Not overeating. It's the damn goals that my dietitian keeps setting. Whenever I follow them, I panic. I feel like I've gained weight. I feel bloated and huge. My life has become a roller coaster of eating and restricting and eating and restricting. I said I have "unsafe" foods, but I don't really anymore. I eat practically anything and then I eat nothing.

"Do you think that's you or your ED talking?" The doctor asks me.

I mumble something. I don't even remember what I said. I hate it when they do that. When they split me into two people. As if my true self is inherently good and my eating disorder is inherently bad. As if they could put me under and surgically remove the bad, and I would be cured.

Because the truth is, my true self? It doesn't want to be cured. I am not split into two. I am tangled up in one.

She keeps asking me if I have any questions for her, and I slowly realize that she expects me to have questions. I search my buzzing brain, and come up with one.

"I've been having horrible night sweats lately."

She gives me her serious look and launches into a lecture about how lack of nutrition causes night sweats. I point out that my medication also lists night sweats as a side effect. She brushes that aside.

"You are underweight. You might not believe that, but you are."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"Are you trying to lose weight?"

I scramble for an answer. "Not really. I mean some days I'm fine as long as I stay at the weight I'm at. Other days.....yes....I want to lose more weight."

She holds my gaze. "You haven't gained a single pound since I saw you last."

If I'd eaten today, that would be a different story.

"Has your therapist talked about any of the other more intensive programs lately?"

My eyes narrow. "No." I say it firmly. I don't want to go down that road again.

To my relief, she doesn't push it. She just moves on.

Next up is the question of bloodwork. She's pushing to take another blood test. By this time, I just want to leave.

"I saw my GP a little while ago, and they did a blood test. Everything was normal." Maybe it was a little longer than a little while ago, but seriously, I need to get out of here.

She hems and haws, but finally agrees to wait on the blood test. She asks again if I have any questions, and I shake my head emphatically. No. I don't have any more questions. Except the unspoken one. Can I fucking leave now?

Thankfully, the answer to that is yes.

Tonight I have to see the dietitian again. She's going to present my meal plan.

This morning I woke up drenched in sweat and freezing again.

I gave up and ate M&M's for breakfast.

Apparently I enjoy hating myself.

And I still don't know if I should bring a notebook tomorrow.