It took me all my courage to make the appointment and that seemed like the biggest hurdle overcome - admitting that I need to do something - but, apparently, that was an easy part.
Now I'm worried that I've made a mistake and there's nothing wrong with me and I'll be wasting the doctors' time. What if there isn't anything wrong with me? What if I'm making up all the symptoms, and it's something I'm choosing to do? What if I could stop it tomorrow if I wanted to? Do I even want to?
The questions are going round in my head constantly. I don't know what to do.
I've made a step, but I haven't got a clue whether it's in the right direction.
And now it's Friday evening, and I'm panicking because I've got to go out for a meal with my seminar group on Monday. And I don't know what I'm going to eat, because there isn't anything remotely within my 'calorie-range' on the menu.
And, although I am continuing to deny that there is a problem, I have just hidden three-quarters of a bag of crisps and most of the chips I was supposed to be eating for my tea. I am writing this down, mainly, for myself. Because things like that are forgotten, or glossed over in my head all too easily and, next time I'm a phone call away from cancelling all the help I've worked so hard to muster up the courage to get, I want the truth to come and hit me in the face.
And, although I am continuing to deny that there is a problem, I have just hidden three-quarters of a bag of crisps and most of the chips I was supposed to be eating for my tea. I am writing this down, mainly, for myself. Because things like that are forgotten, or glossed over in my head all too easily and, next time I'm a phone call away from cancelling all the help I've worked so hard to muster up the courage to get, I want the truth to come and hit me in the face.
Because Geoffrey (who is my eating disorder as well as my OCD - very talented man!) is still telling me that there isn't a problem.
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