Your body is in trouble. It is saying to you ‘put me on the floor because I cannot stand up and do what I need to do to keep you alive at the same time’.
There are some words that I hear which are more powerful than others. Words that cut through the cloud of Anorexic thoughts and drags my own mind out in to the harsh realities of what I have been doing to myself. Something about them sticks…makes me question what I thought I knew…what I made myself believe. The quotation you see above is an example of that. Last week in a nutrition class these are the words that were spoken by my dietician in regards to what your body goes through and what it thinks when you limit your carbohydrate intake. For once I actually felt sorry for my body. I saw it as this thing that was separate to me and instead of hating it, I felt bad for it. For years I have repeatedly made it work harder than it needed to do. I have driven to the point of it not knowing how to keep itself going anymore. I broke it. I damaged it. I can’t help but think ‘what gave me the right to do that?
The trouble is though that I still find myself torn between having that experience of being apologetic to my body but at the same time, not being able to bear the skin that I live in or the weight that holds me down. I would love to just see my legs as the things that support me and gets me from A to B. I would be happy to just think that my stomach is nothing more than a place to house my organs and that to protect them, there has to be cushion. Yet…I don’t. I see legs that I want to make smaller, and a stomach that makes me squirm. I see the space that is filled and then all I can think is “What gives you the right to take up this amount of space? How dare you?”. I am still measuring my worth based on my size and yet logically I know that it is a false belief. The number on the scales or in the tags of my clothes does not determine who I am as a person but I doubt that logic.
Everything about my body is difficult to bear at the moment. It takes me hours to get dressed. I bite my lip to stop from crying when I see myself in the mirror. I avoid my own eyes because I am afraid of what I am going to see there. I think I’m scared that I am going to see regret and not for the way that I have been living but for choosing recovery and weight restoration. Everyday the thought is there of did I make a mistake? and most days I don’t have an answer for that. I’ve lost count of the number of people who have told me that in time it will get easier, that I’ll get used to it…but quite honestly I don’t know if I will. I don’t know if I want to but the really crap thing is that I don’t want to go back to slowly killing myself. I don’t want to be physically damaging myself anymore. I guess for now there isn’t really an answer. I don’t want to go back but I cannot imagine how I keep going. I just know that I have to.
I hope your day is good to you.