I guess the best place to start is with me having a “Come to Jesus” meeting with myself. It hadn’t been scheduled on my calendar, on the contrary, my calendar said I had my dietitian appointment in ten minutes. I was in a terrible mood. There is so much going on, my eating disorder is so angry and freaking out, there are so many uncertain things going on, I feel like I can’t catch a breath or have a stable stone to step on.
My goal sheet had stated it clearly last week though, “Either bring shoes and laces next time OR come up with an action plan to address exercise (that you are willing to do).” Well, we’ve been there and tried that. Action plans never seemed to work. Try only running X days/week. Try only running X miles when you run. It snow balled and I never wanted to follow that. So I knew my other option was to hand over all of my shoes. Go all in, try something different.
I didn’t want to do that, I wanted nothing to do with that. I wanted to cancel my appointment, pretend like I never saw that goal and push it out of my mind.
So, here I was, sitting in my car staring at the building, building stories, with nine pairs of running shoes in my back seat.
Stories about how I just wasn’t going to go.
How I was going to be late to the point of her texting and checking on me.
How I was just going to get up and leave mid-session because I was so over it.
How I SHOULDN’T go, because I was in a bad mood and was going to tell her off.
Then my meeting had promptly started:
“You do not need to be a bitch and take your emotions out on her. She has done nothing to you and is only looking out for your best interest. You can go in there, be a bitch, regret it and feel bad about it later, or you can be honest about how you’re scared, worried, angry and be slightly more productive than telling her to go fuck herself.”
With that, I got out of the car and walked to her office. Dragging my feet and walking slower than I ever have. Slowly trudging up the stairs, making my way down the hallway.
“You’re quiet…. You’re quiet because you didn’t bring any shoes with you…”
I responded, “They’re in the car.”
I felt like a lot of session was me staring at the wall, trying to not cry and still somehow trying to get out of this entire situation.
We talked about something my best friend say just the other day about me giving up running, “I don’t want you sad, but I want you healthy.”
Acknowledging that I really needed to give up running in order to fully recover, but feeling so unwilling and so unready to give it all up.
“It just doesn’t feel worth it. The last time we tried this I ended up going out and buying another pair of shoes because I just couldn’t do it. I’d rather not try than risk failing.”
Panic sets in when I think about giving up running. It’s the NEED to run, the panic if I don’t, the “what ifs” if I don’t. Panic of being a failure. Panic of gaining weight. Panic of giving up running.
I sat there, trying to numb out. Staring at the wall, trying to find something to count, repeating the decimals of pi in my head, ANYTHING to help with the thoughts and fear of all of this.
She mentioned how I was the last patient of the day, and she pushed the topic of my shoes again.
“So what do you want to do? You put them in your car this morning. Did you pack up all of them?”
I told her yes, and shrugged, because I knew what needed to happen, but I still wanted no part of it.
“If I walk you out to your car will you give them to me?”
Fidgeting with my ring, I looked up, “yeah”.
That is how my dietitian left with nine pairs of Nikes in the back of her vehicle.
I got home, wanting to isolate, go to bed at like 6, be upset, have PB&J for the third night in a row.
Instead I curled up with a book and read, trying to keep my mind busy.
At about 6:30 the guy I’m talking to asked if I wanted to get dinner.
Every ounce of me screamed no. “Why does he want to hang out with me?” “Why does he want to see me?” “I don’t want to eat!” Instead, I put pants on, and met him for dinner.
It was nice, we talked, I found myself get panicky about the food. I think a lot of it is just how stressed out I am and everything else that is going on in my life, that eating (and eating out) was just another thing on the list of shit that is stressing me out.
We had a nice time though, he walked me to my car and gave me a kiss.
Overall, I feel like today wasn’t too bad as far as not running since I kept myself preoccupied and went out and stayed busy. I know it will get harder before it gets easier.