There is more to my Friday doctor appointment then I mentioned yesterday.
I told you there is nothing medically wrong with me, and like I said, aside from the obvious that is one hundred percent true, but I left with a very negative feeling.
“This is elevated, but not enough that makes me overly concerned…you are a little of this….but nothing that can’t be fixed with some minor changes to your diet…”
These are a few of the things that were said during my lab analysis, and then I was out the door after the summation; “Just follow your meal plan and you’ll be fine. We’ll do a follow-up when you get back from Europe.”
One would think I would be ecstatic to hear these things. And I was. But so was someone else…
ED LOVES hearing things like that.
“Oh CJ you look wonderful…how do you maintain such a disciplined work out routine…I wish I could be thin too!”
Those are the comments that feed into my thinking that there is absolutely nothing wrong.
And then when a medical professional….actually let me correct that and say 2 medical professionals; one GP and one eating disorder specialist last week when I had my appointment at Hershey, tell me that there is “nothing really to worry about,” then my ED voice goes nuts!
“See you are getting totally fat and falling off the wagon! You are becoming lazy and out of control…”
And then when my mom or Ryan encourage me to do recovery, things or make recovery-based decisions I want to tell them that everything I do is normal because there is “nothing to worry about.”
I never thought I would leave a doctor’s office feeling triggered, and it was not the way I wanted to start the weekend.
On Saturday Ryan and I decided to do something a little different and went to the batting cages and to play a little mini-golf. I don’t know about where you all live but in the sun here, it was pretty hot, even for me,
I haven’t been out in summer dress in a while, and I did leave the house relatively covered up with a cardigan, but during our round of mini-golf i had to shed the layer.
On our way to Target, as I was babbling away about the excursions I booked us for the cruise (this is when his fear of our vacation came up) Ryan just shut down.
What’s wrong hunni?!
“I am really worried about you. I should have cancelled this trip months ago. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you would gain enough weight to go. This always happens…you do so well and then something sets you back to your old ways.”
“But I thought I was doing great?! I am trying all sorts of new things. I reduced my time on the treadmill. I listen to you when you tell me to eat more!…”
“Can you honestly tell me you have given it your all in this process? That you have done the BEST you possibly can?”
Oh sh*t. No. I couldn’t possibly tell him, YES GOOSE, I AM TRYING 110%!
I started telling him about what the doctors said, what people say to me at school, that he is just imagining my body being THAT bad.
“I don’t want to be married to someone who weighs as much as a 10-year-old. It is not attractive.”
He saw how hurt I was by his statement but how much, how often, do I hurt him?
He continued how he still thinks I am a beautiful person, but that my body is physically not attractive. It is weak and feeble…may have the mass of a child but looks like an old person. It is no longer the CJ that took Body Pump, played golf and carried her clubs, was competitive and held her own when playing with the boys.
Then he pointed out; “It is funny how you can take to heart so much what doctors, strangers, co-workers, other people than your family and ME, say, but you don’t listen to your husband when I am telling you there is something very very wrong with you in this form…”
Maybe my vitals aren’t bad today. Maybe my labs read normally. Maybe my BMI is not the lowest it ever has been. But he is right. I listen to almost everyone else BUT the ones that matter most.
I put so much into those who confirm that living with ED is ok, but they are not the ones who have to live with me.
Why can’t my brain turn them off and tune into my family?
And they say husbands have selective hearing…