For five minutes I managed to let myself let go yesterday whilst on the drive back to my parents house. It needed to happen and yet it surprised me how much it hurt to cry like that. I couldn’t bear it for very long. I think I’ve just been so exhausted lately and not allowing myself to process anything that I didn’t know what to do with myself anymore. The plan had been to spend the day at uni, getting my work done for deadlines and then go to the support group but by 2pm it was clear that that wasn’t going to happen. My head was fuzzy, my files had gotten corrupted therefore refused to open and physically I didn’t think that it was going to be possible to hold myself upright any longer. I abandoned all my good intentions and gave up for the day. It was hard not to be disappointed in myself because it felt like I was failing to meet my expectations. I expected more from myself. I expected not to fall. Was that an unrealistic demand?
I thought today might be better after a bit of rest but that hasn’t been the case either. The heaviness has lingered and it’s hard not to equate that with my weight, thinking that if I reduced that it would reduce that feeling too. I know that it’s a ridiculous theory and the two things are completely separate but knowing something and believing it are also different things too. Thankfully my therapist is back from annual leave and I have my appointment at the unit tomorrow, hopefully it will help. It might just allow me to get a refocus back on where I need to be heading in terms of my recovery because despite recent events and behaviours it is not something that I have given up on. The idea of not recovering or of continuing to hand over my life to Anorexia’s will is not something that I want to happen. I still want my freedom. I still want my life to be more than this illness can ever offer me because the only thing it can offer is a certain death sooner rather than later. I didn’t get here only to give up now no matter how impossible that might feel at the moment. Recovery is hard, life is hard and it would have been naïve to think that the two things would not sync up at the same time again and make me question myself. At times I think how much easier it would be to give up but that’s not quite true…when I really think about what my life looked like or how I felt when I was in the worst of my disorder, I can see there was nothing but constant pain and distance. I was barely a person and I certainly wasn’t living. The physical pain never left, I was never warm, my brain didn’t function, my thoughts were entirely self-involved, there was no laughter. It was a miserable way to exist and there is no doubt that if I let it back in the way that I did the outcome would be exactly the same.
I can’t let that happen.
I need to sort this out now. Meal plans, meet my deadlines, get some proper rest, find somewhere to live. Somehow I have to figure out how to balance all this without burning myself out. I hope I can do this.