The Prozac Diaries: Chapter 3- It's all fun and games till they diagnose you as OCD

So I went and saw my new shrink on Friday. I don't know why I was so surprised when she held up her hand and said "Um... I don't think you have an eating disorder per say. You're Obsessive Compulsive. It manifests itself as an eating disorder and with these other feelings you're having, because it's an anxiety disorder. But yeah... you're OCD."


Well, huh. Butter my butt and call me a biscuit. 

Apparently folks with OCD have these common personality traits: High attention to detail, avoidance of risk, careful planning, exaggerated sense of responsibility and tendency to take time in making decisions. 

I never had a chance y'all. Dr. Rogers ACTUALLY face palmed when I told her I majored in Risk Management. (Hey! 'Snot my fault I had a natural aptitude for it!)


I was then given strict instructions to stay away from a scale and keep a food diary- not for fear of overeating- but to ensure that I got at least 1,200 calories a day. She said she'd prefer me to take in at least 1,400, but she'd settle for 1,200. She saw my eyes go all big and PROMISED me at 12-1,400 cals/day I would NOT gain weight. That's the caloric restriction they place on peeps at the Bariatric Clinic (You know, the places where you see the 700lb peoples?) and that Weight Watchers routinely uses that range as well. I musta started hyperventaliting because then she explained to me how people with anorexia have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness, not so much because of malnutrition, but because their organs shut down. They shut down cause they start to DIGEST THEMSELVES (Ew?) then their brain goes all fuzzy cause it can't work proper and before you know it you've gone straight to hell in a handbasket. 


1,200 calories a day, you say? Okie dokie then, I'll give it a shot. 


Saturday was day one. Thanks to Drill Sgt Daddy I got up to 1410. I thought I was gonna DIE. After every little thing I ate I wanted to puke my guts up. 


It. Was. AWFUL. 


Yesterday (Sunday) wasn't much better, but thanks to a Little Debbie cake and some cheese grits I hit 1600 calories. Again, wanting to puke all the live long day. 


Today, at 2:48pm Eastern time, I'm up to 940 calories. I figure 260 more at some point before bed and I can call it a day, but durn. This is hard y'all. When your brain has no hunger reflex, nothing sounds appetizing or stimulates your appetite... I imagine it's the same feeling you'd get if you had a stomach virus but were forcing yourself to eat oatmeal and apples and peanut butter. It's not like I'm pouring a vat of molten Crisco into my belly, but lawduh mercy that's what it feels like. Awful cramps and I LITERALLY have to force myself to stay seated and not try to puke it up. 


It's now clear to me that on a "regular" day, I probably wasn't clearing 1000 calories. *sigh* Besides the obvious reasons for needing to eat, she was worried about ol' Gerty. I need to maintain a SOMEWHAT stable metabolism cause woe be unto me if Gerty gets pissed and I drop 10lbs. I'll be a hot mess. And since we have no idea when that might happen... Yeah. Let's just try and keep me fed. 


Then, of course, there's the triggers. I have to try to avoid stressors so I don't get all anxious and compulsive. I have to admit that it's SLIGHTLY easier now that I know what I'm dealing with. And I'm trying to just STOP doing certain things when I think about it, but there's certain things I just can't give up. (The way I lay out CJ's clothes the night before, for example. Not the fact of laying them out, but that I have to lay them out, in a certain way, in a certain order, in the same spot. Same goes for her lunch. It must be packed the night before and in the mornings it must be placed the "correct" way in the car or I can't pull out of the driveway.)


UUUUGGGHHH.


Then there's my Zumba... and the overwhelming urge I have to run and run and run because Zumba's just not enough. To wit: A dear friend is coming into town tomorrow. Not just any dear friend- one of Ed's oldest friends and the MAID OF HONOR in our wedding. She and her family live in Japan now, so I literally cannot remember the last time I saw her. A bunch of us girls from "back in the day" are getting together tomorrow and there's a little part of my brain that is throwing a Veruca Salt-esque tantrum screaming "But I wanna go to ZUMBA! I have CALORIES to burn!!!!!" And I'm twitching. 


I'm going to be twitching the whole time I'm NOT at Zumba. 


And if plans fall through, I'm going to be secretly happy because I get to go to Zumba. 


Seriously... I don't know if Ima make it to mid-May, y'all. At this rate, Bat Shit Crazy is JUST around the corner.