This morning I wanted to give up. I almost made a promise to myself again that I made so long ago when I was still a kid. It goes something like “I will do anything and everything asked of me if it means that I can lose weight”. In that moment I think I meant it because I wanted to feel like I didn’t have to be this constant pro-recovery person who lives knowing the reality of an Eating Disorder. I wanted to romanticise the process of losing weight and let myself believe that if I did that then I would begin to be more comfortable with myself.
“I’ll lose enough to make me feel more comfortable”
” It’ll only be a little”
“I would know this time when to stop and how to stop”
“It’s not Anorexia, it’s just me trying to be healthy”
“It’ll make me feel alright about myself”
The thing is, sometimes I hate being aware of the hurt that an Eating Disorder causes. I want to be ignorant to it and believe with all my heart that that is the tangible thing that’s going to fix me because it’s simple and achievable. The truth though is that it never did and if I think about it, I don’t need fixing anymore. At least not in the way that I once thought I did. I keep tripping up over this whole body image thing and for the life of me I cannot stop letting my brain get trapped in those mirror wars. It wears you down when the only thing you see is someone who is fat and who needs to be minimised. I don’t feel very contained and that leads to this sensation that I am about to explode in million directions. The disorder says “be better”…but what it’s really saying is “Be less. Be closer to death than to life”. This cycle will continuously repeat itself every time I give in to it and I’m trying so hard to not this time. Every week I throw goodness knows how many challenges at myself, I push things beyond what I imagine myself capable of doing and yet those intrinsic thoughts I have about myself remain the same. It took me nearly three hours to get dressed this morning and then all day all I wanted was to climb back in to my pyjamas. There isn’t enough hours in the day for me to be doing that! It’s got to stop. Somehow I am going to have to learn how to make peace with myself and fast because I am petrified of everything suddenly unravelling.
So, those were my thoughts this morning but I have managed to not engage in them. I’m figuring out that you can think all those things and that’s shit for you, but what matters in the end is how you choose to react to them. I ended up spending the day with a good friend of mine and her baby son. We caught up, we gave each other pep talks and then we randomly decided to have lunch. It wasn’t easy considering I knew that this afternoon I was having a massive challenge for a snack and my initial plan of action was to restrict. It was nice. I think the last time we really ate together was when we were in treatment together the first time…so coming up to three years. Definitely a more relaxing atmosphere! Afterwards I went to meet my support worker for my snack…Lets just say it happened and I finally fulfilled the promise I made to my little brother when I told him that I was going into hospital and he asked me if it meant that I would be able to do this thing. I don’t feel good about it right now though…the guilt is too much.
Anorexia has been more than present today and has nearly brought me to tears more times than I care to count anymore. Yes I looked back with rose-tinted glasses and entertained the idea of running miles and reducing my intake but I don’t want to live like that. I was reminded of that by looking through some of my old posts. I was so unhappy back then. I was afraid everyday of everything and I’m not sure how I kept functioning. I’m beginning to get there now. My mood is generally better and I don’t seek an end. I don’t want to obliterate myself. I’ve lived with fear so long and I am beginning to undo the damage that I did, so why would I want to go back?
There would be no point because despite the hate, I don’t think I hate myself quite like that anymore.
I hope you day has been kind to you.