I’ve been going to meetings – EDA, and I went to one ABA meeting too – and they’ve helped me get through the holidays. And the holidays weren’t bad. But this week is here. Back to work, back to school, back to life. I’ve been hiding out the past few weeks, chilling from a tough fall semester and trying to heal. Not sure I did any of that, but I’ve been eating. And going to meetings. And not purging. And mostly not restricting. And I keep reminding myself it’s “effort not outcomes.” If you’re not a 12-stepper, essentially that’s short for focusing on the effort [which IS in your control] and not the outcomes [which are up to God].
Yet Sunday night is here and I feel overwhelmed and exhausted and disappointed that I didn’t “do” more. Yes, I went for a run – my first in many months – but I didn’t do more than one. I didn’t go to the store, the tree is still up, I have paperwork still to process, and I spent much of the day playing SimCity. I want to smash my head into the door for the stupid stupid things I’ve done and not done. Lost opportunities, failure to maximize, failure to… UGH. No matter what I do, it’s never enough – but not for my parents, or my family, or anyone else. For me. Because while I spout “effort not outcomes,” I regularly hold a measuring stick up to myself that I can NEVER reach.
But that measuring stick isn’t me. It’s ED. He’s getting really sneaky. Before, his voice was loud and I couldn’t hear anything. But now he’s quiet. He’s selective. He dives in only when he sees a weakness and then he exploits it. ED could give Sun Tzo a run for his money. I thought that if I did the right things, my eating disorder would get easier. Follow the meal plans, eat regularly, sleep regularly, go to therapy, meet with my dietician, go to meetings. But it’s not. Because I’m still fighting the process. I still think in my head that if I do the right things, I will get the right outcome.