I haven’t posted in quite awhile. I’ve thought about it, but I’m really having a hard time of late, and keeping a sane train of thought is a struggle. A few months ago, I thought I was doing pretty well. I wasn’t purging (much), I was eating (fairly) normally, I had a sponsor, went to EDA calls, and was working the steps. I even found a new nutritionist who specializes in ED. I stopped tracking (and deleted MyFitnessPal from my phone) and was considering tossing my scale.
And then something happened. I’m not sure exactly what. I struggled with the 25th anniversary of my mom’s death but went on retreat where I felt loved and cared for. I went on vacation and was surrounded by sheer gluttony, and purged once. And then I got home and obsessed about the 2 pounds I gained on vacation. And I came home to be swept up in interviews and presentations for a new job, a visit from my brother, my father’s declining health, and lots of laundry. I can’t point to one thing, but I can say that since then, I’ve been spiraling down a dark path.
I think what happened is that my recovery has just addressed the surface issues. I hacked at the weeds around my feet and felt good about it. But the roots were embedded, and as soon as life became tricky again, the weeds grew back and now are wrapped around me. I feel as though I can’t breathe. At the same time I researching IOP, I’m playing games with my food like “how low can I go.” I’ve been hovering around 1000 calories a day which I think is still too high – clearly the weeds impacting my vision. I can tell you every bite I’ve eaten today and I don’t want to write it down but if I don’t, I’ll obsess about it all day long. Plus I want credit for my 4 mi run today.
I’m slowly destroying my body and my mind but I can’t stop. I’m not sure I really want to stop. Every day for the past few months I’ve prayed “God, help me to eat well today, sleep well tonight, and to treat myself gently.” Yet the words ring hollow now. I want to sleep, I don’t give a crap about eating or treating myself. If anything I want to push, punch, pinch, cut, hit, scrape, burn, whatever – punish myself for my failures. I wish I could figure out how to self-flog because I’d do it in a heartbeat. I know I need more care but my husband is giving me a guilt trip about it because I’ll be out three nights a week. I shudder to think if I go in for my assessment and they recommend PHP. He’d freak. I’d freak. And my bosses would absolutely freak.
And freaking out is something I do well now. It’s funny, just as my depression meds are kicking in (new meds), I’m seeing more clearly how much of a hold my almost-anorexia (or officially, OSFED/atypical anorexia with purging elements) has on me.