Monday mornings means doctor day for me, every Monday at 9 on the dot I see my doctor who I'll call Dr Dark, I've been seeing him every Monday for the last seven years, mainly because I'm on a methadone programme. Yes that's right, as well as anorexia I'm also recovering from heroin addiction. I guess when they were handing out problems I was near the top of the queue. So basically it's a urine test, a quick chat and he sends me on my way with my methadone, anti depressants and anti anxiety meds. This morning he asks how my eating is, I always downplay how bad it is. I don't tell him that I have a passive deathwish, that I purge up to ten times a day, that the number on the scale dictates my mood for the day, that I'm dying inside. He's a nice guy but knows fuck all about eating disorders. If I told him what goes on inside my head he'd probably have me commited to the nearest mental hospital.
Anyway, I'm not too good at taking my meds properly, I like Mondays because I have a weeks supply so I take a double dose of methadone and a double dose of anti anxiety meds (zypexa). Sweet sleep here I come. I do it because I need a break from the monsters in my head and to get away from my eating disorder.
I weighed this morning and the scale reads 103lbs (I'm 5'4). Not great but not unbearable. I look in the mirror and eyeballing it Iwould say I'm 140lbs. It's so confusing, logically I know I'm not overweight but I feel it, God do I feel it!
So I'm going to go enjoy drug induced sleep. I don't know if anyone will read this but it helps to write.