These last few days have been hectic and I have been doing my best to take care of myself and attempt to hold on to some patience but it has not been easy. It seems that in order to do things that are good for me I have to shut down some part of my brain because if I don’t I cannot still the thoughts that tell me that it’s wrong, that I do no deserve or need it. The list of demands that I expect from myself continue to increase and I am trying to reign it in or at least give my body the body fuel that it requires. Yet I cannot escape the fact that by the end of the day I am beyond exhausted, and that’s when it sinks in, all the damage I have done to myself. I’m in my mid-twenties…I’m not supposed to be this tired. Sometimes that thought allows the motivation for recovery to filter through but other times all it does is ignite the despair and hopelessness, and yet I’m not allowed to let go of the hope because if I do that then nothing will move forward and I may as well be back in full-blown restriction mode doing nothing other than waiting to die.
Yesterday in therapy I came to the realisation though that at some point I’m going to have to call a truce between my mind and body. Each parts are going to have to stop hating each other so much if I am to move forward, because if I’m honest I am stuck. Staying in the same place that I have been at for months, telling myself, telling everyone that I am increasing my intake and gaining weight, and although that is true it is not fully coming through in reality. It is only when I was showed the chart yesterday of my weight since discharge that I saw how little progress physically I have been making. There have been ups and downs but nothing that ever really changes anything and I still have not made it back up to my target range, a range that I’ve been trying to get back to since my discharge back in January. My therapist pointed out that if I was to go back on the ward it would probably only take two weeks to get back there and that makes me realise a little how still horribly limited my intake is.
I’m tired of this, of having it in my brain and it never going away, of it taking up space that could be used in a much better way. I’m sick to death of the rules, or the amount of times I say no to myself. I’m tired of going out to see friends, or for meetings and knowing that most of the time I cannot allow myself to eat anything and I can’t just eat because I want to, rather than it been because it’s a ‘meal-time’. All these limitations never used to bother me because there was no room to question it. That was just the way it was and I got used to it, felt safe with it and now it makes me sad. To think that I have wasted more than half my life on this and if I don’t do something drastic soon to change it than all I’m going to do is lose even more years. Yet this is where the problems start, how do you do it? I know how to do it, but I don’t know how to do it and live with it. Already the time between getting up and walking to the kettle in the morning seems to start a body hate campaign that only gets worse throughout the day, my body seeming to grow and expand. I feel uncomfortable all the time. I feel like filth and crap is filling me up, running through my veins and seeping out my skin.
A side note though is that I had a conversation with my mother. I told her that she was being unhelpful, that it was hard for me to watch what she is doing to herself. I told her I accept that she thinks she needs to lose weight and that that was not the issue but it was how she was doing it that bothered me. Did she not see that? I think she started to hear me but I guess time will tell. I’m not going away this weekend them because although I do have a lot of work to get done, more importantly I need to protect myself.