Ok, so you know how I said that these past few weeks have seemed eerily smooth and easygoing? I think “Ed” was taking a slight nap.
Today, when I went to see my dietitian, she asked me what area of eating I would like to focus on this week. I replied that my dinner could probably use some bulking up. She suggested that I try to have as many meals a week with my family or others as possible, and to try to make it a goal to have at least 6 dinners a week with someone. Like, real dinners. Not the piddly ones I usually have. I knew I had it coming, and later I kind of kicked myself for suggesting a change…because (queue creepy music here) then she went on to say that she thought my additions to what I am eating seems to be going well, but she would really like me to stop eating Fiber One bars, or any sort of special “diet” bars. I couldn’t help but wonder if I would have had to only work on getting rid of the bars, if I hadn’t brought up dinner. Then she told me to give them away. Or if I couldn’t do it myself, have someone take them away (I could practically hear Gollum hissing “my preciouuuussssss!”). Ed said “no, no, no!” And I told her I didn’t think I could do that. That I couldn’t just give them away. I bought them, I would eat them. They are my special food, something that is safe, and delicious, and will always be there at the end of the day for me to go home to (this is an attempt at me trying to make a joke, in the midst of my pain and agony).
I am not that attached to Fiber One bars, really I’m not. It’s not that at all (or maybe it is, feel free to call me out here!). It’s that I have them, and bought them, and I want them…I don’t want them taken away. And Ed, or me, or both of us says that a calorie is a calorie. These bars may be quote “diet”, but I’m more than willing to eat a Nature Valley granola bar, or Kashi, or Sunbelt. These just need to be eaten up first. I just got into a habit of buying a certain brand, and they’re almost always readily available at where I shop, and so…ta da! I have a stockpile. And so here I am sitting in front of my mom and dietitian, and crying and shutting down, because I know that I won’t be able to give those bars up. And I know that part of it is me being stubborn, and part of it is this damn, sleazy guy, called Ed that has been with me for so many years, calling the shots and ruining my life. And I am mad at Ed and mad that I have let him creep his way in, this smooth-talking bastard. I cry because I am frustrated and alone and don’t always know how to express my feelings. I cry for all of the days that I didn’t cry, didn’t let that feeling out, when I covered it up by holding back and cutting back and not eating, not eating, not eating.
And by the way, this is how messed up my mind is…as I was shutting down and crying, I looked down at the boots and leggings I had on and thought about how now I would have to change when I got home, because today was a bad day and I couldn’t look good or feel good. I didn’t deserve it. Weird, huh? Just goes to show how intertwined everything in the disease is. I can’t look good or feel good, because Ed is mad. Nice.
After the appointment, my mom dropped me off at home. I immediately went to my stash and looked at the bars. and I picked them up…shuffled them around, put them back. I sorted the bars out from the ones that aren’t “diet”. I looked at them for a while. I shut the drawer. They’re still there. I know they’re there. They know they’re there. I can’t help feeling like I am overwhelmed, and as though I will be letting people down if I don’t get rid of those bars. I think I know what I’ll be dreaming about tonight.