Life after an eating disorder
I don't know anymore what having an eating disorder was like. It hurt, yes.
I eat well now. I almost always put milk in my coffee. I am grateful.
I have negative thoughts (who owns the distribution rights? depression? the ghost of EDs past? Is psychosis bored, and does it have nothing better to do?), but self-soothing has become automatic. I don't know how it got in here, but I accept the soft inner voice: Be proud of your recovery. Not everyone recovers. You are lucky. You're eating tomato soup! When my brain rolls out How about no food today? I am not tempted enough.
I'm glad I recorded as much of my eating disorder as I did. I read past entries. How was I ever this crazy? When I was hallucinating, at least I knew it wasn't Real. The eating disorder permeated everything. And then it slowly sublimated. I fought it, but I think that, ultimately, it crept away. I used to fear that I wouldn't be able to guard myself against it if I didn't know how it moved.
My hand lands on the pill bottle in my desk. Its contents rattle. I push down on the cap and turn. A nest of capsules. Diuretics. Shit! Why didn't I throw these out? I have two instincts. They enter my mind in this order:
I need a coping mechanism. I consider my options. I am recovered because I think, Starving myself is not an option. It made sense to me back then, too, but sense never made much sense to me back then. Malnutrition causes mental problems worse than the ones I am attempting to fix with malnutrition. I can speak that now with conviction, and mean it about my own body.
I still need to find a coping mechanism.
I eat well now. I almost always put milk in my coffee. I am grateful.
I have negative thoughts (who owns the distribution rights? depression? the ghost of EDs past? Is psychosis bored, and does it have nothing better to do?), but self-soothing has become automatic. I don't know how it got in here, but I accept the soft inner voice: Be proud of your recovery. Not everyone recovers. You are lucky. You're eating tomato soup! When my brain rolls out How about no food today? I am not tempted enough.
I'm glad I recorded as much of my eating disorder as I did. I read past entries. How was I ever this crazy? When I was hallucinating, at least I knew it wasn't Real. The eating disorder permeated everything. And then it slowly sublimated. I fought it, but I think that, ultimately, it crept away. I used to fear that I wouldn't be able to guard myself against it if I didn't know how it moved.
My hand lands on the pill bottle in my desk. Its contents rattle. I push down on the cap and turn. A nest of capsules. Diuretics. Shit! Why didn't I throw these out? I have two instincts. They enter my mind in this order:
- Take all of them!
- That's stupid. Throw them out.
I need a coping mechanism. I consider my options. I am recovered because I think, Starving myself is not an option. It made sense to me back then, too, but sense never made much sense to me back then. Malnutrition causes mental problems worse than the ones I am attempting to fix with malnutrition. I can speak that now with conviction, and mean it about my own body.
I still need to find a coping mechanism.