I posted a few weeks ago that my weight had dropped a bit since my move, and although I've managed to stop the slide, I haven't been able to put any of the weight back on. I got the smack down from my treatment team this week, and so I've been pushing the food over the past few days. I can feel my body kicking into hypermetabolism (hot flashes, etc), but I also feel like Twitter's infamous "fail whale":
Yeah, that big.
I know the chances I've gained more than a pound or two in the past few days is probably miniscule. So I can't really been significantly larger than I was a few days ago and feeling (relatively) normal. But there you have it.
EDs aren't rational, and I suppose there's no point in trying to rationalize any of it. I know the feeling will eventually pass, and I also know why I hate the weight gain process so damn much. It's mentally and physically uncomfortable. I'm functional, unlike other times I've had to gain weight, although I have significantly less weight to gain than before, which helps.
I know I shouldn't waste time kicking myself and thusly bruising my ass. I had been doing a good job juggling many aspects of recovery, but keeping all of the recovery "balls" in the air was beyond my capability at the time. Dr. H suggested that I come up with not only a food and exercise plan to keep me in recovery, but also to come up with a social plan. When I'm more stable, I want to volunteer at a cat rescue or something. I have a weekly crochet group and a monthly book club, which is good. I also need lots of "me" time, so it's hard to balance both needs.
I know the fail whale feeling will pass, and that I will get back on my feet. But in the meantime, it seriously sucks.