recover-ish.

hey guys.

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it’s been a while.

and a while it’s been.

not sure where we last left off. probably about a month and half ago and 10 lbs lighter ago?

not that the latter information is pertinent whatsoever. well, unless your name is Ed. then it is very pertinent.

(per·ti·nent ˈpərtn-ənt/ adjective 1. relevant or applicable to a particular matter; apposite.
  1. “she asked me a lot of very pertinent questions”)

so that would be the major shift that has taken place recently on my eating disorder recovery journey – acknowledging that I have one and then starting to distinguish between my healthy voice and my annoying, abusive roommate that lives in my head – Ed.

Ed is freaking nuts. Ed sold my car, flew me across the planet, locked me in a gym and continuously tries to convince me that my worth is determined by the size of my thighs. He is also the one that tells me I can’t function or think unless I do two hours of intense yoga, kickbox or run my ass off. He also finds it quite amusing to make the majority of my thoughts, feelings and habits focus around food – namely food I am not allowed to have. No wonder my self esteem has plummeted and I lost all drive, focus and creativity in my life – I’ve been in an extremely abusive relationship which has smashed my spirit and starved my soul.

Luckily, I have some amazing friends and therapists that have been trying their hardest to turn on the light in the dark room of my mind and point out all of the betrayal and lies the sick side of my mind has been feeding me. Turns out I do deserve to live a full life and that I do not need to be rail thin in order to be loved.

So details – Although I have yet to go a full week without exercising I have managed to reintroduce “scary foods” and because my metabolism was so run down with my body being in semi-starvation mode I was able to pack on the pounds quite quickly. This is good because it means I can get back in the gym soon! (pretty sure that was Ed speaking there). My dietician and therapist have been slowly picking apart my “religion of thinness” and bringing my twisted world-view into my awareness.

I felt the need to write today because now that I am at a “healthy weight” (although still dealing with amenorrhea and bradycardia), I still deal with a lot of anxiety at meal time, my thoughts are still consumed by food and exercise and I still feel like I am in a prison I can’t escape. Today I was working at the yoga studio – even though my dietician thinks its like a recovering alcoholic working in a bar (side note: i did apply for a job at a bakery, welcome to the black and white thinking of a bulimic) – and I was going to take the 9 am Hatha Flow class (probably punishment for last nights first glass of egg nog in years) but it was full so I decided to lock up the studio and go on a quick run around Petaluma while the class was in session. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a run and now that my thighs are jiggling again, I am sure it won’t do much harm – regardless to the fact that the people in charge of restoring my weight strongly advise against any cardio whatsoever. Anywho, I decide it won’t hurt and it will help distract me from my compulsive thinking about muffins at above mentioned bakery – so I get on my headphones, rocking tunes and bright pink tennies and hit pavement. Awwwww. The familiar release of seratonin, the brisk cold Northern California winter wind upon my face, the beautiful blue heron on the town center lake and that beautiful, bright shiny sun beaming down. Finally, I feel free again. I try my best not to look at my chubby tummy in the town shop windows as I pass by feeling light and beautiful.

This is what recovery is, running.

It is also impromptu yoga sessions on walks at Lake Ralphine after delicious, energizing lunches:

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Unfortunately, as my body is getting healthier and stronger my desire to push it physically increases simultaneously.

I say unfortunately because after that brief moment of freedom – running with my music – my heart began to ache.

Literally. I felt its weak beat trying to keep up with my over zealous attempt to push it once again.

My disorientation returned, I felt scared lost and “ill”. 25 minutes. That was all it took to put myself back in that scary, familiar detached reality of a body struggling to keep up with a manic mind and restricted eating.

Recovery is a tricky, tricky path. My eating disorder continuously psyches me out. I am certain I look well and feel well enough to jump back on the pavement and begin to cut out carbs again – but obviously I am not there yet. I need to figure out how to find the feeling of lightness, freedom and peace without the destruction of my bodily temple.

Anyway. That was my day. I ate a tempeh sandwich and finally started feeling less “out of it”. But the battle continues.

Off to support group with the girls that can help me to keep my butt in the chair and chin up.

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