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Physically Ill and Mentally Unwell

Having a sinus infection that I believed I had under control, ended up meaning I’ve been dealing with Bronchitis and the constant coughing fits. Due to my mental health meds I cannot take any over the counter cough medication beyond the original Mucinex and Claritin/ Allegra. So essentially just suffer through it.

With that being said, my time at the gym has been quite the minimal and it has really messed with my head. I’ve finally been able to get back in and I am feeling so much more myself both mentally and physically.

Thanksgiving was last week and I must say I am proud of myself in how I have handled my recovery. I had my therapy appointment with Holly right before and she made some great points. First, the scale is inaccurate no matter what the numbers are as it is our relation to gravity and not a true weight. It weighs our hair, fluids, if I’m on my cycle, food, etc. Second, a consistent reminder that the scale can move several pounds in one day and that it is completely a false reading other than the very first steps on in the morning. With that, just having a Thanksgiving meal will not make me gain any more weight and it will be okay to eat.

As Thursday came and went, we had gone to two meals and I nibbled my way through both. The weather the last few years has been oddly warm so I took full vantage of that and took a walk around the neighborhood while we were in-between meals. That walk is what I believe helped me the most. I wasn’t out walking to walk off the meal or to earn the next. I was walking the neighborhood enjoying the beautiful weather and seeing the neighbor kids out playing. A vast difference from what I remember as a kid; being bundled up with snow boots and hats. Now we are running around in near short like weather. It’s just weird and I love it.

As for today, I made it two miles on the treadmill at the gym. I wish I could have gone to the park to enjoy the sunshine but that wind and the fact that the temps dropped super quick from the time I left for lunch and when I came back.

I stood on the scale this morning and saw a smaller number. I was so damn happy. However, as the morning went on the more anxious I became. I don’t know if it was from me fighting a much needed fifteen minute nap or from Ana. Today I did not choose recovery. I was on and off the scale all day from work to the gym and back. Ana had every tiny little grip on me that she could get. I do not know when or if ever I will be free from her death grip. She stares and snarls into my soul reminding me every second of today that she is in control and I will never be anything without her. One would be in complete dismay when you would happen to overhear my 11:11 wish. Or should I say, her wish.

Tonight I go to bed with a heavy heart knowing I ate dinner and now the scale will be higher come morning. I’m beyond sad and so full of disappointment. Recovery is hard especially on days like this. I just want to be small and tiny. I am meant to be tiny.

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A Weight Not Lifted

Therapy today was productive and I took home a good amount of homework. Yet, as I drove back to the office, all 42 miles, which provided me enough time to realize how little of the truth I told simply in hopes of looking and sounding “better” than I really am. Classic move.

I pull into the parking lot, car park sounds so much better but I severely digress, weighing (pun not intended) all of my options. Do I send an e-mail in hopes it will go unnoticed for a few days? Do I shut up and move on with my day as if I hadn’t seen her just an hour before? Or… Do I send an e-mail letting her know that at the end of session when she asked if there was anything else, that in fact there was something else?

As I roll in my chair back to my keyboard I try to lose myself in work hoping I’d figure it out later and deal with it all another day. Ana didn’t want me to be honest. She didn’t want her secret out, that she is in power not me.

I’d say maybe half an hour in and my recovery side, the “angel” side, tried screaming over her telling me to tell H how much of a relapse I have been in, that nothing is okay, and how much I don’t want to do this anymore. Recovery side of me actually won and I sent her an e-mail with the direct link to my website here so that she can truly see what a shit show my life has really been. Maybe this is me willing to give recovery another chance. Maybe recovery me felt strong for essentially ratting myself out. Whatever it was in that moment, I sent the e-mail and moved on with my day. To say I didn’t stare at my inbox from there until I clocked out would be a terrible lie.

For now I choose to believe somewhere in me wants a better life than what Ana has provided me for so many years. I choose to try and see that, year after year and relapse after relapse, this isn’t what life is and how life has so much more to offer. I have to fight to live and be at least okay with the one body I have and will ever have. For today, I may have been in complete restriction, I am choosing to nourish tomorrow.

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Behaviours

Today I woke up and rose to the occasion. I am not one to get up early and grab a full shower during the week, I’d much rather stay curled in my warm blankets than get up earlier. So I was definitely off to a really good start.

I get to work and I’m just riding this slap happy mood, not thinking a thing in the world. Maybe that is exactly why this happened. I was too chill and happy and she saw fit to sneak in. Sneak in she did.

I found myself cautiously slipping into the bathroom after a bit of breakfast and gave into a behaviour that I swore I’d never do again. I even have it written on a sticky note that this behaviour is NOT AN OPTION. Apparently today it was the only option. Like I was seeing myself engage in the behaviour as if through a glass. It’s not like I did it on purpose with all intentions. It was just weird. It felt normal and a part of my daily routine like in years past. It felt so normal and I walked back to my desk as if nothing had ever happened.

Once lunch time came around and I change for the gym it hits me like a brick. I did the one thing I said was not an option. I slid to the floor scratching my head trying to understand what I did and how it even happened. All I know is I let my guard down and she snuck her damn head in, having no business in my happiness.

I have a lot of work to do to figure out how and why that behaviour happened. I was under no stressful situation. I literally was humming and enjoying a nice morning. There is currently NO reason. It simply happened. By no means do I believe that something somewhere lead me to the event, i just have not figured it out.

Ana has been yelling so I am sure there are some weird underlying facets that lead to the event this morning. It makes me feel gross and dirty. I never enjoyed Mia she was just another friend I needed to function if I had no control of what or when I ate. She was always my plan B. Ana does enough damage on her own. Medical studies show heart damage and a new scientific article shows that prolonged anorexia does cause brain damage that may, may be possible to reverse upon recovery. That makes a lot of sense when I see how this has been going on for the last 16 years.

Recovery is such a struggle for me and I don’t know why. Do I want to forever spend my life striving to be the smallest? Do I want to spend my life hiding my body fully ashamed of the figure I have? I have a lot of work to do and I think my Friday zoom group meetings with Alsana and once a month therapy with Holly might not be enough right now especially since I am coming up on a med change since the seasons are changing and I hate, abhor really, the cold and the days get darker earlier, it just burns my soul.

With that being said, today’s lesson is, even on your best days, if you are not keeping guard, even the best days can fall victim of your eating disorder. Recovery is hard, and it isn’t a straight line. It’s okay to have slips but we have to stand back up and move forward. I choose to pick myself up and move forward to a new day.

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Recovery Process Loading…

Sitting here looking at my legs and seeing my stomach and feeling that they are there has me beyond uncomfortable. Once again she takes the lead and back down I go. I have to let her win because being in this body at this size is too much. I can’t do this anymore. I know this is a blog of recovery but most posts are of me giving over my power to Ana. When will I ever be in recovery? Is recovery even possible at this point? This all started when I was 15/16 when I was first diagnosed. I am now 32. That’s shameful right there. I should be over this.

By society’s standards of the “ideal” lb for 5’5″ woman is between x and x. I am on the higher end where should be in the middle and I prefer to be under the lowest ideal number. Why am I ever striving to be the absolute smallest I can be? Why am I chasing the need to be tiny, to be light, to not take up so much space?

My body has helped me carry my nephew through a rough hiking trail in the Mohican State Park. My body helped me climb the tower to the top of the castle and view the beautiful autumn colours. My body got me halfway up the fire tower even though my courage to continue to the very top ended at the fourth flight with still four to go. My body allows me to run for fun. All of these amazing things and the constant goal to be tiny is so bizarre. I deserve to take up space in this world. I have been blessed with a body that allows me to do so many amazing things so why am I hell bent on destroying it?

I think I need more therapy than just once a month.

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I’m back… Again

I’ve been on vacation and ever since I have been back home I’ve tried to really sit and evaluate my life. I went soul searching i guess you could say. Sadly, I quickly realised that when I really sat with myself in the quiet I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the quiet. I didn’t feel comfortable just sitting. My mind was slowly calming down but my body was on constant go. I spenty vacation enjoying life, enjoying the relaxation. What my mind couldn’t let go of was her. Constant body checking. Constant nagging of when I ate and how much I ate. A very intense battle knowing I need to leave her behind. I love hiking in the mountains but I hate that my mind always goes into how many calories I have burned and how much muscle verses fat has been distributed. She is constantly there. She is constantly challenging my will to live in recovery.

Here I sit so uncomfortable in my own skin. I am hyper aware of every breath I take, the fact that my legs need shaved, and the sound my stomach just made was enough to think careflight was passing overhead. That is her in and out. She always makes you hyper aware of every cell in your body. All I want to do is strap on my running shoes and just hit the trails.

Now that I am back home that all looks like a far away land I’d dream to go. It’s not though. It’s a six hour drive south of me. The beautiful Smoky Mountains are my home away from home. I think that is part of why she was able to follow me through the mountains and on those mountain bear country trails. She is my best friend but she is also a silent murderer. I need to be strong and take back my power. Since I have been home, I haven’t had the strength to let her go. One day she will just be a voice of whispering winds. One day I will get there.

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Pushing Boundaries

Another successful day for her and another loss for me. I lost my fight over breakfast. I only had an apple. For lunch I made myself drink an Orgain shake. I ran two miles and that exhilarating feeling getting off that treadmill is something unbeatable right now. Yet back to the office I must go. I want to be able to complete the full 5K by the end of the month.

I did have one win. One win for recovery today. I ate dinner. Not what most would consider dinner but it is better than last night… better than nothing.

One bite at a time. Recovery is my commitment. Am I on the right track? I’m trying to be. Will it all be better by morning? Absolutely not! However, by writing this, no longer hiding the secret she loves to be, I am able to fight for recovery whether or not I want it right now. I will get better eventually. For now it will be my daily struggle until it become natural once again.

One day I will be better. As of right now, I shall quote Emma from RBS: “I’m not better, okay, I’m not better and I keep waiting for someone to figure that out; and they don’t. I mean of course they don’t ’cause as long as I say the right thing and I act the right way they’re happy, because that means they cured me right?”

Right now I am not better and that is why I decided to write this. To share and to learn from others. There are many of us bloggers that are trying to recover and there are those that have blogs of recovery. I hope to be able to share my experiences and hopes for a recovered future and that one day this will be a blog of nothing but recovery.