I’m lying in my bed….I’ve been here all day. I’m sick- and it took everything I had to send a text asking for the day off. But I’m proud of myself for doing it. I’m worried that people don’t believe I’m sick, just lazy. But that’s another story for another day.
Anyways, I found myself scrolling through Twitter and looking at a pro-ED recovery account I follow. Then it was just down the rabbithole reading and processing-which I continually find myself doing these days. I finally have time to process. To understand myself and that’s scary and also relieving. Among with several other things…I’m just now processing what led to my eating disorder. When did it start? What triggered it? HOW did my brain just know to normalize the experience? How did my friends feel? How did my family feel about it? Did they worry? Are they still worried? Should we have known whenever I refused to eat anything but a peanut butter sandwich at holidays growing up? Should we have been able to catch this?
Im nauseous thinking about it. I’m grieving it. And I’m realizing it’s still following me around. Eating Disorder behaviors still have a hold on me. Eating the same things every day, afraid of grocery shopping, petrified of eating in front of people. My friends say they wish they could eat the same things every day- no, you don’t.
Some days I’m free from it. I spent a week in Disney World and ate gelato and French fries…..my two absolute “no” foods. But why? Was it because I knew I was walking the calories off? Why does it flare up? I can’t drag myself to the gym. Mostly because I know I’ll exhaust myself even more. Because I know I’m not treating my body well still. But it looks like I am. I wear a size 8 and look healthy. What in the world is the problem?
My heart breaks wondering what my path looked like from the outside. I’m grieving for everyone who had to (and still has to) watch when my eating disorder takes over. When I’m so hungry I cry or when I ruin shopping trips with friends because I realize the size I truly am and it’s not “pretty”. When I lash out in anger because my sister is a size zero, or when my Mom brings home an unhealthy breakfast and I pout over it…refusing to eat a biscuit.
My chest feels like it’s going to explode writing this and wow, there’s a lump in my throat the size of Texas right now.
I’m not angry that this is my story- oh how I know God is using me for His own purpose. Oh, how I know this is worth it. I guess I’m angry because of how my story affects other people….how my story has made others cry. How I’ve taken a sledgehammer to relationships and hidden under the covers when I should have shown up. How I’ve made others uncomfortable when I order a salad and eat half of it. How I’ve gotten drunk off of 2 drinks, an empty stomach and regretfully texted an ex begging for attention. Oh, the apologies I can’t even give anymore because I’ve falsely apologized so many times.
I can’t feel my hip bones protruding from my stomach anymore….and that makes me angry. Oh, poor body….oh, poor friends and family how I’m sorry for the way my story has affected you all. It’s a journey….a really rocky journey but I promise if you’ll just stick with me I’ll figure this out.