I have an appointment with the dentist in a week. Apparently that’s the soonest the one that takes Medicaid will be in. Wow. There are at least three dentists at that office and not all of them take Medicaid? Huh? At least Medicaid pays for the exam and x-rays.
So, for at least a week, my already weird eating habits will probably get weirder and weirder. This is going to be interesting. And weird. It’s not just what I eat that’s weird. It’s a barrage of secret habits and obsessions and rituals I have. I hate this. I wish I didn’t find these sick things necessary. They are taking up brain space and time in my life that I’d rather spend on something else.
My T asked me what my life would be like if I didn’t have the eating disorder. I thought about it. I said, “It would be nothing.”
Guess that’s the problem. Or is it? I am wondering if my T thought I’d say something about something scary, like that I’d have a career that I’d be afraid of, something that I was desperately avoiding and turning to my eating disorder instead.
But no. Nothing. That’s all. Without my eating disorder, I am nada. I am my eating disorder. You have heard this before. Have I not made any progress?
Probably not. But at least I have no plans to starve myself to death. I do want to get rid of this damn thing. It is driving me nuts. It is taking up too much brain space, driving me nuts. It is wreaking havoc on my body. Who knows what it did to my teeth.
Now, look what my teeth are doing to my eating disorder. Reinforcing it. Saying, “Yes, you don’t have to eat. Use us as an excuse. We hurt. Take care of us. Take better care of us than you do of yourself. Just like you take care of Puzzle’s teeth. Brush us. Floss us. Take us to the dentist. X-ray us so you can see us.”
“See us. Hear us. Believe us.”
Maybe that’s what my eating disorder is saying to me. And that could get very, very dangerous. Because if I take care of my eating disorder–brush and floss it, coddle it, see it and hear it and believe it, I’m in serious trouble. My teeth don’t want me to eat just like my eating disorder doesn’t want me to eat. I can’t have my eating disorder extracted–it’s not that easy–and I can’t have many more teeth extracted–or, ironically, I won’t be able to eat.
So I see the dentist in a week. Let’s see what he says. Meanwhile, I have this toothache to deal with. Just deal with it, mainly, take Ibuprofen maybe, and I’ve got painkillers from the extraction if need be, and that stuff you squirt into your tooth to numb the pain–that, too. I’ll live with it until Friday then see what’s what. Meanwhile, you’ll hear me bitch and moan about it for another week. Promise.