I’m sitting here in this moment being overwhelmed with issues causing a great deal of guilt and shame. Two little words, guilt and shame, that feel so very heavy and weighted. I am struggling with knowing what my body needs. I am having strong issues with body image, and that, in itself, is weighing me down until I just can not move. I am having unhealthy thoughts about food and would prefer to never eat again, but I know that is not the answer. Last night, I made a decision to contact a dietician. It was late, so I left my name and number, and I left a very brief message regarding my concerns. I am scared to death right now. I feel guilty and weak for allowing the thoughts into my mind that have found themselves there. I feel shame for having to seek out help for something I feel I should have a better handle on. I feel guilty and ashamed that I will have to tell my husband I need help. Oy, “I need help” just made me especially teary. I do not purposely not eat. I sometimes get so caught up in other things, I just forget to eat. Last night, I had a scare. I was at work, and I was feeling like I was going to pass out, and I must have not looked so great because a male nurse told me to sit down. He immediately checked my vitals, which were good, but he began insisting that I ate. He took me outside for cool air, and he talked to me about needing to eat more. Now, so you know, I have had that discussion with my best friend. I did not ignore it. I listened quite carefully. You know how people say if you hear the (remotely) same thing from multiple people then it must be true? Well, it must be true that I need to eat more. I do not want to be an eating disorder statistic, and I do not think I am at this point; however, I do not want to be there, ever. I started feeling better after having crackers, yogurt, chocolate milk, and more crackers that were given to me. I went on about my job, and I had begun to feel not so great again. I asked another nurse to check my vitals again. Pulse was up a little, but my blood pressure was still good. I was asked repeatedly if I was diabetic. “No, not that I know of,” was my reply. She checked my blood sugar, and after all that I had consumed, my blood sugar was 104. I can’t even imagine what it was before that. All this word vomit was to say that I see others’ concern. I have my own, but I am afraid. I have lost 40 pounds since April. I have not starved myself by any stretch of the imagination by the way. I see myself as big as I was before in spite of my older clothes hanging on me in a very unattractive way. I am wearing smaller sizes, and I continue to have to buy smaller things, yet, I still see disgusting fat all over the place. At this point, I am unable to grasp what I need to do in a healthier eating place. I have seriously skewed ideas of my body image, though, and I am SO aware of unhealthy that is. UGH! I am being buried under guilt and shame, and I am desperate to hold on to anything I can to not be fully submerged.
I need help.