Most of the time I’m pretty content with the decision I made to do this recovery thing. I look at my life now compared to how it was just a year ago and it is so drastically different that I can’t help but feel relieved. Yet there are days when things are hard and I’m struggling with myself, my thoughts and my body and I have to search deeply within myself for why I chose this path instead of staying on the other one. Occasionally, on my more pessimistic days, I feel like I have to choose the thing I hate the least. On those days I hate recovery nearly as much as I hate Anorexia and it is that ‘nearly’ which is the thing that keeps me moving forwards or at least not going back. It’s a small thing isn’t it? Easily breakable, changeable and entirely dependant on how I am able to frame my thoughts and balance my mood. I tell myself that things are better this way. My body is not broken like it was. My brain works with me 75% of the time. I can rationalise, see a bigger picture, see a future. It should make me feel relieved but the truth is…I feel trapped. I am locked in this stupid battle with myself and neither outcome is what I truly want because what I want is not possible. When I get up in the morning and catch sight of my reflection, I don’t recognise the person staring back at me. It’s been nearly of year of weight restoration and it doesn’t feel like my skin yet, that leads me to question if it ever will. Will I always be waiting for that moment when I have some type of permission to go back to a body that feels less alien than this one does?
I wanted recovery but this isn’t what I wanted, if that makes sense? I didn’t know what I was expecting when I went into it and I guess I underestimated this illness for the millionth time when I thought that it would be simple once I got over the initial hurdles of gaining then maintaining weight. I knew my relationship to it was complex but in a way I imagined it like a child throwing a temper tantrum. If you ignored it, set firm boundaries, made clear your expectations and then waited for it to run out of steam, it would eventually exhaust itself. What I think I’m grasping is that Anorexia isn’t throwing a single tantrum but it is one of those brats who will grow up to be an asshole. There are people like that, no matter how many chances you give them or peace treaties you call, they just can’t help making a dick move. Have you ever watched Downton Abbey (if you haven’t I do recommend it)? Basically there is a character in it called Thomas who is like that, he’s just mean! So what I guess I’m trying to say is that Anorexia is essentially Thomas personified.
I wish it would just go away. Most of the time I can tolerate aspects, eating enough to sustain me, the not engaging in behaviours. The knowledge though of what those behaviours are and the fact that it has to be a conscious decision to do the most basic of things in a normal way, infuriates the hell out of me. I’m tired of this still taking up space in my brain.
I guess my defences are down today (most of this week to be honest), my anxiety has been pretty high and I’m just so beyond tired of having something so toxic inside of me.
I hope your day has been good to you.