Dusk is slowly rolling in and the couple of floodlights meant to illuminate the fresh air park have flickered on. We walk and chat, Benji, Laura, and I, the only ones with the ability and desire to go outside at this point, as our 8 pm snack digest. This time there is focus on the conversation. Its turned to an attempted tackling of the trust issue, specifically in regards to dietitians.

“Look, its not possible for Sally to know the exact calorie count of every food item in New York City. I think thats the point shes trying to make though, that its just not as important as we want to believe it is.” I feel like I am skirting the edges of this conversation because I really don’t want my mind to delve too much into the realm of calorie analization. Its just one of those places that I don’t feel safe letting my thoughts go to yet.

“I don’t know.” Laura states as she ambles along to my left. “Its just something I would like to be able to count on. If we are expected to make our own meals in regards to a specific calorie count then I feel like I should know so that I can do it right.”

“Are you sure thats not your eating disorder talking?” Benji, on my right, having remained thoughtfully silent, now pipes up. “We all know all too well that the eating disorder is about control and rigidity.”

“I don’t know.” Laura says again, her previous conviction wavering. “Maybe I should get a dietician for when I leave here.”

“If you do that,” says Benji, “you will have to choose to believe what they are telling you. If you are just going to question everything he or she says then there wouldn’t be a point in paying the money for sessions with one.”

“Right now I just want to be able to trust Sally and I’m not sure if I do.” Laura sighs with frustration, not at us or at the conversation, but at the delicate situation. “Once there is that ounce of doubt I can’t help my mind from just questioning everything.”

I watch the ground move beneath our feet as I try and choose my words carefully. “I think one of the main things that is the job of a dietician, when treating a person in eating disorder recovery, is to portray that it really doesn’t have to be exact. We have such a need for strict planning when it comes to our meals, and there is the idea that keeping with that but in a different way will help us to get healthy, but when it comes down to it we really don’t need all that rigidity. It doesn’t matter if its aimed at the goal of health or not. That rigidness is still part of the eating disorders control. What we need to learn and apply is intuitive eating. Our bodies know whats best for them and, if we learn to listen to what they are telling us instead of the ED, then we know we can trust them. I think its somewhat of a dietician’s job to ultimately help us to identify and really use our filters between the disorder and what our bodies are really telling us.”

Laura seems a little more at ease but its visible that her mind is still hard at work. “I mean, yeah, I know that our bodies are smart about what they need and all. I don’t know. I just want to know that I’m doing the right thing, and if Sally says something is 220 calories when its really 300 how can I trust that I am getting the calorie count I am supposed to?”

“I think thats what shes saying though,” Benji added into the mix, “Its that over all that 60, 80, 100 or even 200 calories shouldn’t matter in the long run. At the end of the day variations just don’t make a difference if you keep your generalized calorie count in mind.”

“I get the feeling that dietitians just don’t outwardly stress how much discrepancies of that nature don’t matter because, as eating disorder patients, most of us can’t deal with that lack of control over what they eat. I think thats why they add on specifics like 200 extra calories now, an extra 300 next week, an extra protein bar for a daily snack, etc.” I said, as i watched Gina rise from her bench and signal that it was time to head inside.

“I know you guys are right,” said Laura, rounding the last corner before the door. “Its all just so much easier said than done.” With that Benji and I nodded in agreement as he held the door and we filed inside.