Difficulty with disclosure and admitting it's 'real'?

On Monday, my husband saw me naked, and told me I didn't look well. That's the first time he's really said anything directly to me about what's going on. It was a bit difficult to hear it, but it was also kinda reassuring in a weird way. The doctor I was seeing had totally dismissed anything I said about my weight, or my fears that this was starting up again, so I hadn't said anything about it for months, and he certainly didn't ask -- although you'd think he must have noticed. For some reason, hearing my husband voice concern almost made it real to me.

I know I'm underweight, and I know that I'm feeling weaker than I did and having more trouble eating, but there's still a part of me saying that the doctor must know if there's a problem. "If there was really a problem, the doctor would certainly have known it, and he would have said something about it. Therefore, even though I see what I'm doing as a problem, it must not be real. I must be making it up." That's comforting, because it gives me permission to continue restricting my food, but it also leaves me feeling trapped in this cycle. Hearing someone else say something almost made it real.

Building on that, when I weighed myself this morning and found that the scale reported a pound less than yesterday, there was this little germ of a thought in the back of my mind saying, "I see the doctor next week, and we'll talk about all this then, so after that, I'll be able to eat more. He'll tell me if it's real, and if it is, I'll be able to eat more." It almost feels as if I need permission before I can do it. Or as if I need him to acknowledge this is real before I can start making an effort to gain weight.

And today in therapy, I actually told my therapist what I weighed this morning. Before I'd brought up the eating, I'd mentioned my weight once, in an unrelated context. "I only weigh [x], so how much damage could I do?" She didn't follow up on it at that time, which was probably good, but I've lost weight since then, too. It was easy in one way, because it starts to let her know about my physical health, but it was difficult in another, because it's like making a commitment to try to improve.

I guess I wonder how much of this sounds familiar to everyone else here? Have you felt something like this? Especially that sense that someone else has to give you permission to eat?

I understand, and I can relate. {{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{Genevieve}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}