Friday...

Gosh, was this morning not easy. Started with the nurse phoning once again around 8:30. I'd hidden out in the washroom for privacy's sake, and I must say, it's always weird talking on the phone in a washroom...very echoey. At least I didn't have to do ALL of the questions that I had to answer during my March intake phone call. HOWEVER it was bad enough. The strangest thing is that because of my depressive tendancies, the group 'might not be suitable' for me. Now, that strikes me as very, very odd because every single other person (and the count is at something like 6 and rising) I know that has struggled with an eating disorder has had concurrent depression or bipolar disorder resulting in suicidal thoughts and or self-harming actions. Same when it comes to just reading about women and girls with eating disorders-pretty much everyone has mentioned this. So why would an eating disorder program consider it 'risky' to have someone with these issues involved? Yes, I understand that changing food patterns can make things very challenging. I have no doubt whatsoever that it's going to be **** on earth. The way the nurse described it "Normal eating is meat, veggies, potatoes, bread, hamburgers, french fries". Note that when she said this I thought "I don't even like hamburgers...never have, doubt I ever will...and how is french fries supposed to be on a healthy diet???!"

Once again, it was recommended that perhaps I look into another set of programs, not run through the hospital. Personally, I don't think that's such a smart idea...plus the last time I looked at the only other programs offered, they really didn't seem like they would ever be useful. Unfortunately, that was in march and my memory is a bit foggy and they are not available online. To be honest, I think that in my case, monitoring with a program run from a hospital is probably the smartest option-if anything BECAUSE of the depressive parts. The group at the hospital is a CBT group focused on changing habits, less on body image and that sort of stuff, whereas the groups run out of the non-associated clinic have more body image stuff is what I gathered. At least I've been assured that there is room in this hospital group. I just hope that it's not a huge group. I'd like something small enough that I can feel comfortable...not something with 20 or 30 others.

Basically, the whole phone call was incredibly upsetting, and I ended up talking until about 9:00, so I was 15 minutes late out onto the floor, but no one seemed to notice. Nor did they notice that I'd been crying for that half an hour. Quite a bit, actually. Maybe they did, and just didn't want to say anything, but I really don't think they noticed. Which is good...because how would I explain it? Actually, I figured that if anyone asked I would say that I'd received a phone call (which was why I was late, that part would not be a lie) that a family member wasn't doing very well. All of this is technically true, but was not the primary reason I was upset! It took me about an hour before I stopped thinking so much about all of this and tearing up. I did, in fact, have to hide my silly tear ducts and nose in an allergy excuse three or four times.

The next part is a three-hour or so assessment first with the research person and then a talk with this nurse. It's scheduled for September 13th at 12 noon, so I'm going to have to miss class. Well, can't be helped. I also have to get weighed there...I hope that their scale doesn't read high like my doctor's office does. Every other scale I've been weighed on including the one on the psych ward reads the same as my bathroom scale so why does the scale at my doctor's office read high? I don't know, but it always upsets me. ALWAYS. Okay, at least since I turned 11. A little before I turned 11 I was 48 pounds and 48 inches tall. When I was weighed before starting grade 6, I had increased to 50 pounds and since then, I've been hating my weight. Part of me would certainly like to get back to that 48 pounds, but even at 4'9 that's not really feasible...although probably not a death sentence, really. The nurse says that I have a 'serious problem'. To be honest, I still don't see any of this as a serious problem. I don't know why I hate the number 50 so much, but I think it has to do with the way the number 5 is shaped and the way fifty sounds a bit like fat.

I got a bit frustrated by the two phone calls I received once I'd gone back out after my break today because it was to say that they'd had a cancellation...for this coming monday and could I please get back to them right away? Now, not only would I not be able to take time off work like that given that this is only a summer job and I'm already having to take time off work to go to my audition the very next day but I'm not allowed to have my cell phone out with the kids, so how on earth would I even receive the message? I didn't hear it until 5:30 when I was walking to my bus, and their office closed at 4:30. That and that the nurse is now away on holidays until Sept 13.

It seems like the whole process of getting to this is worse than the actual group will be. Sigh...