I am having a lot of difficulties this week. The “blog world” seems to think I suck at recovery, that I am no better than I ever was, and that I need to go into real ED treatment. News flash…been there done that and I am no longer underweight. Yes, I feel like a whale, yes I obviously do not see in the mirror what I should, and yes I would love to exercise this off until the cows come home. I asked for a membership to the gym for Christmas thinking I would take yoga class…well that didn’t quite work out as planned. As soon as I stepped foot in there I hit the weights. I was frustrated with deciding whether I think I am doing well at recovery, I am frustrated with the fact that only eating meat helps me mentally, and this is sick, but I was envious of all the people who are in recovery for anorexia, eating a 180 from where I am and are much smaller and less recovered than myself. I miss that. I miss knowing I need to help myself and knowing I need to do well. While I know I still need to do recovery and always pursue what it is I want out of recovery(which I am still figuring out) there is something triggering about hearing from those who are not as far into recovery as myself and who are younger and will not be missing out on the best years of their lives. I totally BYPASSED ages 21-23 in an isolated freak depression of a world. I’m at a loss…what IS RECOVERY? Where in the process did I decide that I need to turn one eating disorder into another? I am SO wrapped up in learning about health and nutrition it is RIDICULOUS. The truth of the matter is that nobody, no doctor, no scientist, no nutritionist KNOWS what healthy is. There is no “perfect” way to routinely “do healthy.” This is my problem. From fats, to carbs, to meat to starch, they all have studies “proving” their viability however a quick peek around the blog and the views are a war zone! I don’t know what the right answer is, and I don’t know why I feel so damned low and worthless right now. Wait…yes I do… I have recently put on a good 8-10 lbs and it seems to be SOLELY sitting in my stomach. I have a desk job, I sit ALL DAY. I can feel this gain ALL DAY. My mind is turning a million miles a minute with fat thoughts ALL DAY.
I don’t want to look back on this time in my life and see yet again more regret. I’m sick of looking back, regretting and wishing I had done things differently. I’m not glad I suffered as extremely as I did. Yes, I matured real quickly and my body is aged well beyond its years but I surely don’t think 3 years of a hell hole was “worth” anything. I feel like I am missing out on so many important aspects of life, of living and it make me clinch my fists and tighten my chest knowing I may just be screwing myself up more than I otherwise could. I don’t want to be so damned entangled in this ED that I cant live my life but lately it seems to be encompassing a hellofalot more than it should. I am working hard, working my ass off at recovery and I would LOVE to feel some mental relief from it rather than seeing this growing creature I don’t recognize every morning in the mirror who seems to be growing wider at lightning speed! I don’t want to be slapped with the anorexia tag for the rest of my life. Hell, I do not look anorexic at all anymore, but I sure as hell feel as though my mind is still “in” the disease and it’s just not all better. I cant keep trying to promote this healthy well off person when that is not what I am.
Maximize pleasure and minimize pain…that’s the key to this all. I just wish I could figure out how to get it done, how to accomplish that. I sit through my work days searching for a peace of mind and waiting for my brain to click into “normal.” But day after day it does not happen. There are good things. I don’t count calories or portions, I just eat. But according to any appetite I have not been eating anywhere near “recovery calories” which scares me that much more considering how damned easy it is for me to gain weight. This mere fact is driving me up the wall. It causes so much unnecessary anxiety and stress.
Monday I had a doctor’s appointment…this was the peak of my recent gain in weight. I asked the doctor NOT to tell me how much I weight and I stepped on the scale backwards. OBVIOUSLY SHE NEEDS TO BE FIRED… she tells me “girl you aint got nothing to worry about you ___lbs.” I just about lost it right then and there with her little southern smirk. I did NOT want to know my weight because God damnit I KNOW what it does to me. I wanted to leave the office, I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, I could hardly catch my breath and all this because I know how much I weigh?? This sounds ridiculous but it is the truth. I have been over thinking, overanalyzing, and over everything since Monday and I’m driving myself CRAZY.
I want recovery. I want it really bad. I have not been restricting myself at all, but it does not seem to help one way or the other. I know I am calm and at ease when I DO restrict. Im a hell of a lot happier, I have more life to me and I can function. When I am 3-meal-a-day eating I am an absolute MESS. This is so hard and confusing.