A while back before my first time in treatment, I was entirely unaware of what I was doing to body. I had convinced myself that what I was doing and feeling was perfectly fine. I normalised the skipped heartbeats, the aches and the constant feeling of coldness. I came to believe that everyone saw stars when they stood up or the ground moved underneath them when they walked. I could tell myself this because I didn’t let anyone contradict me. I didn’t tell anyone and I refused to have my bloods taken or my weight checked. I made the people around me watch me getting weaker and wouldn’t let them do anything about it. Eventually it got to the point where I went into treatment and went through over a longish period of time. That was when I noticed that what I had been feeling before was not ok. I should have learnt but I didn’t and so when I started to go downhill again, I again tried to normalise it. You can make yourself get used to anything if you try hard enough. Yet I could never go back to being as ignorant as I had been before. I think I felt everything more acutely as well. The wear and tear of years of abuse began to mount up and it didn’t take as much to make my body struggle. That was one of the things that told me I needed to go back into treatment. It was the fact that I could not do my work in the manner that I wished and those missing heartbeats began to scare me. It was probably also fuelled further by caring about what I was doing to my body and the repercussions of my actions. I didn’t want to not wake up one day or to be laid in a hospital waiting as my organs slowly failed and no longer able to do anything about it. So I did what I had to do. I ate and got to a healthy weight, and I’m not going to lie, I hated every minute of it. I didn’t fall in love with food. It never stopped being a battle and the Anorexia was always there. I didn’t snap out of it. I didn’t discover that I like something and I’ve never been able to get excited about food. I know there is a lot of recovery stories out there where the individual can begin to get excited about all the food that they have denied themselves for so long. It was just never like that for me. It still isn’t. I think that’s why I find maintaining this weight, beyond body image and whatever psychological things that I have going on so hard.
Yet right now I am seeing more that that matters less as I begin to struggle more with my body. It’s letting me know at the moment that it’s not happy with me. Things are hurting again. Things are feeling weird. I’m not getting the things that I need from my diet and it’s showing in my blood work a bit. Things are dropping and although they may be staying in the normal range, the actual drop is something that my body isn’t dealing with very well. All day yesterday I was in pain. I woke up and was barely able to hold a cup. I was dizzy, nauseous, aching and when I looked in the mirror, I was surprised at how dark the circles under my eyes were. I don’t want this again. I am tired of the endless doctors appointments and blood tests. I’m tired of taking medication in the hope that it will fix me rather than cause more damage. I want to start again with a new body and make a promise that this time I will treat it better. Unfortunately it doesn’t work like that. You get one chance, one body and it is your responsibility to not screw it up beyond repair. I am only just beginning to learn that.
Maybe all this has to end here? Maybe it doesn’t matter if I can’t bear the sight of myself or if I feel hollow. Maybe it doesn’t matter if I want to climb out of my skin or minimise myself. Maybe all that does matter is that I stop taking out whatever is going on in my mind on my body. I want healthy. That was the goal…that was the plan. It still has to be.
I hope your day has been kind to you