Voided validation

I'm having one of those weeks. I can't complain because it hasn't been entirely bad. I fired and re-hired my psychologist after I tried unsuccessfully to find one to replace her. I went to a self-esteem group where I was at least fifteen years younger than the second youngest person in the group (it was a good, enlightening group, though). I sold my soul to "Grey's Anatomy" and watched all of season two in the span of a few days. I had a massive blow-out with my entire family, resulting in me not talking to anyone but my father.

This fight, like all others, was about the two things that I hate the most: weight and food. I yelled, I screamed, I cried. My mother is ever-convinced that the second I walk back into high school in the fall that I will relapse. It's at times like those that I feel incredibly invalidated. I've had an eating disorder for going on seven years and this is the longest I have ever been able to maintain a healthy weight and abstain from most behaviors. I see where she's coming from considering my "past," but I feel like she never factors in the new data that I've presented her with: I haven't purged or heavily restricted in months. She can't get past the image of a weak sixteen-year-old that was admitted to the hospital last year. Sometimes I feel like that's what I'll always be to her.

For months, I was my mother's science project. At least, that's what I felt like. Maudsley, despite being effective, was absolute hell in the sense that I felt like I was being treated like a child. I never put up much of a fight when I was being re-fed and was the picture of perfection in terms of being an eating disordered person gaining weight. It always irked me that she would go brag on some message board and to her friends about the hard work she was doing. She usually reminded me of how I had "ruined her life" by having to do "all that hard work of re-feeding."

It's hard not to be resentful for the invalidation of the work I put into gaining whatever amount of weight. She never spoon-fed me. She never had to go through the pain of a re-feeding belly and the agony of putting calories into mouth. It's not to say that I'm not grateful for her putting her life on hold to cook and plan all of my meals. I am grateful that she kept me alive. But for just once I'd like some recognition from my mom. From other people, it seems meaningless. From my mom, it means the world. I'd like her to acknowledge, just once is fine, that I did do some of the work towards becoming a healthier person. Maybe it's a mutual thing: thank her and she'll thank me.

If you're wondering about the fat challenge, it's still going good. I enjoyed a nice fluffer-nutter sandwich as a part of my lunch. I'm thinking about trying one of those peanut butter/oatmeal combination things that seem to be so popular on foodie blogs. I sort of fell off the wagon a bit one day by breaking down and having some soy chips. But so far, so good on the fact that I haven't eaten diet foods.