I’m pissed. I’m mad and frustrated and sad and exasperated and so many other synonyms for fed up. Mad at myself for not admitting that it was disordered before it got to this point. Mad at Jan that she told me the truth and what I need to do about it. I don’t want to do it. I don’t know if it’s out of rebellion, or as a way to say “fuck you” to Jan, or because I don’t really believe it’s necessary, actually I knows it’s pretty much because of all three which makes it worse. I have so many reasons not to do it and so few reasons to, it seems. I felt like I was making so much progress with eating. I felt so good about it even thought I know part of the reason I felt good about it was because I was kind of restricting but still. Things felt normal and effortless. I was being flexible and normal! That was the best. I had so much free time that wasn’t spent with meal planning and figuring out food shit. I walked into the kitchen and decided then and it made things less of an ordeal. And I know that I wasn’t completing and I know that it was disordered but also where’s the line? Am I going to be on some sort of a meal plan for the rest of my life? Never able to not be concerned with whether I’m eating enough and if it’s intentional or not? It’s just so annoying. I just want to not have an eating disorder anymore. I want to not have to deal with this shit like the rest of my friends. I’m pretty fine with ed now. I’ve accepted him and know that he’s on his way out but it’s so hard for me to not just give up right now. I know that I won’t because I really like where I’m at and I don’t want to go back. I think about restricting again, and my first thought is that I don’t want to feel like crap all the time again. Which in ED’s terms means I’m weak, but whatever ED.
Recovery is weird. I’m typing this reflecting back on what has been the hardest week I’ve had in at least 6-months. ED has control over my brain that he hasn’t had in a long time, but he doesn’t have control over my behaviors. Today in therapy we discussed how cooking was too overwhelming for me right now, so maybe it be best if I eat out at some safe restaurants the next couple of nights, and I agreed. I love that that is my new compromise. Before it would have been, how about you eat safe foods and have a Boost with dinner just in case, or just try your best and have a Boost as a back-up. We then talked about how I’m having trouble accepting support from my treatment friends because, “I’m the one who supports them, it’s not the other way around.” I, aka ED, spent so much energy before competing to be the sickest and now I’m competing to be the most recovered. ED, what are you doing? I can’t handle you anymore. If you could kindly see yourself out that would be great.
I’m doing better this week. My therapist said something in our last session that stuck with me. “You don’t have to give this so much power. You don’t have to let it control your week.”
What do you mean? Of course it has to control my week. It’s the end of the world as I know it. The end of my recovery world that is. It’s been tough not to just let this turn into a complete relapse. A lot of my friends are doing well, so I can struggle. It would be okay. The world would stay in balance, ED tells me. Because apparently, in my head we all can’t be doing well at the same time even though I know that’s what we’re all kicking ass to fight towards.
But I tried to take that to heart. She was right, I didn’t have to let it define my week and it doesn’t have to define my recovery.
So I’m taking it slow. Not letting these increased thoughts and behaviors define my days and remembering what it’s like to celebrate small steps, like not skipping a snack or completing my meal plan for that day. I feel like I’m completely overreacting to two weeks’ worth of struggle, but I’ve been told that’s ED convincing me to minimize everything, so I’m just not gonna think about that and keep focusing on getting back on track and making sure ED keeps working on finding his way out of here.
Sending out so much love & strength to all of you