Eating Disorder Recovery · Uncategorized

A title would not work here

I have been doing Uni work for over 12 hours today and it kind of feels really good. I’ve had the first productive day that I’ve had in such a long time and it makes that knot in stomach a little less tight. It’s well documented on here about how I’ve not been able to think and it was beginning to worry me. I saw my future quite catastrophically crashing down around me because I couldn’t make my brain work in the way that I wanted it to and I thought this was it, it was going to be the thing that eventually undoes me. I don’t tolerate the stillness or emptiness very well.
I hope it’s a sign that if nothing else at least my ability to work is starting to come back. I need it to and not just for my degree but for my own well-being. I hadn’t realised how much I’ve become to depend on this world that I’ve created. It makes me think why do I still hold on to the thing that has the potential to destroy all that? I keep this relationship with my eating disorder going and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I don’t know any other of being or I just got used to it and getting used to it meant that I got comfortable with it and safe. I try to picture a time without it and all I’ve got is this one date that I had…It was present but I don’t know. I was going through this whole denial phase that it was still a problem (familiar, right?)

He was called Tom and he was beautiful. That’s all I remember thinking! He was just so beautiful. Shallow I know…anyway he was working briefly at one of my old favourite haunts as a bouncer and several weekends went by with my shamelessly flirting and one night he kissed me like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. For weeks this went on and then we went out.
We went into the city and went for dinner. We drank cocktails and we ordered pizza and I remember him making a few comments about it, how he was glad that I’d got a pizza with him. I said yea I never want to be one of those girls who watches everything she eats and is more focused on that then having fun. I’d done that and I was never going to be that person again. I believed myself but of course there were contingencies. I was already on of those girls that I never wanted to be but I told myself that when I got to a weight I was happy with then I’d be that person who didn’t care, who order a fucking pizza and enjoy every damn slice. The night continued with a game of pool, more terribly bad flirting and then a movie, only we were late and couldn’t get into it because…he was beautiful and I was a little bit drunk. We left and we walked through the city, sharing an ice-cream and talking. It was so quiet and so good.
He took me to the train station like a gentlemen, waited with me, kissed me some more and of course told me he’d call in the morning.

The ending isn’t the point to this story, it’s the more the point that I never wanted to be this person. That I knew even then how ridiculous this mission to minimise was because it wasn’t fun. I wasn’t having fun then when I was purging all the time and I haven’t been having fun restricting in the way that I have done for the last however many years.

I want to call it quits.
And I would if I wasn’t…I want to say the word coward but I think that may be taken as disrespectful and it isn’t mean to be. Forgive me if the word is clumsy, it is the closest I can think of to what I want to say.
I have had a good day because I got work done.
And I feel good about that.
But I also feel uncomfortable because I haven’t really moved much and I’m horribly bloated (fat?) right now. You know when siting makes you feel like your stomachs folding in on itself and you can’t not think about it and the only way that it stops feeling that way is if you stretch and lay down but you can’t lay down because that’s not a good position to type in and all you can think to do is plan how you are going to restrict for the rest of the week but then you know you can’t restrict because you need energy, because the week is going to be really busy and you can’t afford to pass out but then you tell yourself it doesn’t matter because for some goddamn reason you’re still gaining weight and that makes no sense because you’ve been restricting more and even though you know it’s not good you think your body hates you now and is just making you fat out of spit.

Random burst of thoughts but I’m going to leave them in.

Thinking like the above is why I want to recover because that is a waste of 5 minutes of thinking. Those thoughts are taking up space which I would prefer to be filled with…just better things.

On that note I am going to go and stop writing and hopefully thinking so that I can get some sleep tonight.
How you guys are being good to yourselves.


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