If I'm Being Honest
My relapse-- wow, saying that feels so weird-- has been something that I've been trying to keep off of this blog for a while, especially during these past winter holidays. I just didn't want to discuss it anymore. If I'm being honest, I feel nowhere near as positive as that picture I took of my journal. I awakened this morning, after having suffered a very torturous night filled with thoughts of how huge I failed for eating salad, fruit, and pretzel twists, and consequently making myself do workouts in the bed, and felt this desire to give recovery a try. I felt, for the first time since being diagnosed with an ed, that I may be ready for recovery. I just felt so tired of the bs that comes along with it and realized that I actually miss eating certain foods.
I can't do it now, eat I mean. It's so beyond hard and on some days, impossible. It's the most taxing thing I have to do in a day and that's sad. Even though I don't feel as though I am physically ill enough to deserve recovery-- and I definitely don't "look sick" enough-- mentally, I'm very ill. And I guess that awareness is something. For a while, my symptoms have gotten worse and my behaviors have increased. My fasting (not for spiritual reasons) has worsened and I'll easily go days without eating or drinking anything at all, the exercise compulsion has grown more severe and it is all I can do to not be completely obsessed with doing it. Sometimes, I have to talk myself out of taking laxatives when I feel that I've eaten too much and didn't exercise.
The numbers. Oh the numbers. Whether it's the numbers on my new glass scale or the numbers in the nutrition info of the few foods I do eat, they are constantly on my mind. I hate to say that they guide my day but they do. I've noticed that I don't even eat food anymore, or at least it doesn't feel like I do. I'm not aware of taste or texture or consistency. It's all just numbers. Just calories. I have a sandwich and it's, "ok, so that was X amount of cals." I want some extra something and it's, "but how many calories will that be altogether? Will it put me over for the day?" Yeah, because I obsessively count calories and track my precious numbers in a convenient, little app so that I can make sure I'm sticking to my "amount" for the day. And then I obsess over how I could've eaten just a little less.
So yeah, I'm sick. I guess I'm sick.
And I've decided to "do recovery". But I have so many thoughts going on. I'm not a full timer so I don't have medical leave at work. I don't have insurance yet but even if I did, would my job be waiting for me once I got out of treatment? And what about my living situation? I love my housemates and we all get along so well but if I'm not here to pay rent for, let's say a month, what then? Will they search for someone else? Will my things be allowed to stay in my room until I get out? So many thoughts and unknowns. And lets not forget the biggest of all, how will I afford treatment without insurance? I'm working on getting insurance this month because I can't afford to be uninsured but what if the insurance I do get doesn't accept the centers in my area? Ugh.
Having an eating disorder is soooooo easy. It's the recovery part and treatment part that sucks. And I'm feeling so many things right now.