No More Weigh-In’s EVER!!!


I couldn’t possibly be any happier right now. So, last time I went to my psychiatrist’s office she wanted to get my weight and I practically screamed, “NO”. Welcome to the irrational world of anorexia, where skinny people gain a tiny bit of weight, become super self-conscious, and cry if anyone tries to see their weight. Anyways, she told me that she would let it go this time, but that next time neither she nor I would have a choice. I’ve cried, screamed, starved myself, had multiple panic attacks in this last month, and devoted nearly every therapy session to today’s appointment.

So, I walked into my psychiatrist’s office this afternoon, and she told me that she had looked into it further and there was nothing on the books saying that she HAD to weigh me, so not to worry as we wouldn’t bring it up again. You could have told me that I had just won a free trip to Disney World, and I don’t think I would have been so excited. I nearly cried.

I know from an outside perspective it looks kinda dumb or immature.  You can’t see the big deal. But from my perspective just a year ago I was nearly sent inpatient and it terrified me.  I was underweight, so dehydrated that they had to use pediatric needles to get my bloodwork, had multiple seizures each day, etc.  I was really sick. Since then I’ve put on a considerable amount of weight, I’m able to eat and keep my fluid levels up, the seizures are gone, and except for vitamin D (which I completely give up on btw) I’m not deficient in anything. I’m not ready for the scale, not yet. It’s triggering, and one day it won’t be.  That said, so long as my health continues to move in a forward direction, intentionally putting myself through something that I find triggering and makes my fight to eat more difficult isn’t beneficial.

I get to hold the reigns.  I get to decide when I’m ready for my doctors to start seeing my weight.  One day I won’t be so self-conscious.  One day I will be able to see my healthy weight and feel a sense of pride and accomplishment in it. One day I might be able to look in the mirror and see the image of what’s really there and feel comfortable showing others my progress. For now, I’m being entrusted to guide my own recovery, including in regards to whether or not I step on a scale. I haven’t had a lot of control over my own life up until recently and having my psychiatrist say, “Okay, this is important to you, I’m listening.” means more than I think even she knows. I’m not even so sure it’s about a scale so much as it is about being given a voice.


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