The last few months have been more difficult than expected. Recovery isn’t a clear set of directions pointing you on the right path and it’s not as easy as following the yellow brick road. It’s a crazy mess, that often times makes you wish that you had never started. I have fallen down more times than I would like to admit. I have drowned myself in my own misery but I have also been on some of the highest peaks of my life. There were so many changes happening in my life, I didn’t know how to handle it all. It was overwhelming trying to wrap my mind around all of them, while balancing the unpredictable force of recovery from E.D. I had to make adjustments that changed me as a person, adjustments that I didn’t want to make, and none of it came easy. I made the mistake of assuming recovery would be as simple as a single hurdle that I could get over after being admitted from rehab, when in fact it is equally (maybe even worse at points) as challenging, cruel, and defeating as being in the deepest parts of my sickness. The problem with eating disorders is that, unlike a drug addiction or alcoholism, you have to face the wrath of your demons’ multiples times a day, every day, for the rest of your life. It’s not something you can ignore and push under the bed. You have to constantly fight head on with this monster of a disorder. Most of the time I grin and bear it. I fear if I admit how hard it is to myself or anyone around me that I’ll give up right on the spot. Sometimes the pain is so overbearing it’s better to pretend it’s not really there. No matter how many articles I write or how many ways I portray it, I will never be able to describe just how difficult recovery is. It’s challenging your mind to rewire the way it thinks. For anyone whose tried, that’s not something that comes easily. Everything that comes with recovery is hard to accept. I have to force myself to become comfortable with this “new and healthy” body that I have adopted, but when a majority of the time, every time I look in the mirror I want to cry, because sometimes all I can see is the pounds that I have gained yet still forcing myself to eat despite of this because I know if I don’t all this pain will have been for nothing. But recovery is telling myself in those moments of despair to celebrate those pounds and see them as a new chance to start over at life. Recovery is looking in the mirror and seeing myself, this new nourished version of myself, and accepting it. I don’t have to love myself yet. I know I am not ready for that and I don’t have to lie or pretend that I am. Recovery is about celebrating how far I’ve come. Recently, getting back into running wasn’t going exactly how I had planned either. I knew by taking a good amount of time off to refocus my priorities would have a toll on my running ability, however I was not expecting how significant of an affect it would be. My times put me equal to what I ran as a freshman in high school as now a sophomore in college. I was ashamed of my ability and what I had allowed myself to had become. Again, in my life, I was letting numbers define my value as a human being. I was confused. I thought that since I had been nourishing my body correctly, I would come back stronger than ever. This set back hurt me, it made me question all my choices at being healthy and tempted me back into the hands of my disorder. No matter how hard I tried to stay on track with my battle of recovery, with each failure the whispers of my insecurities grew louder. It seemed like I was having to fight even harder to drown out the voices of self-doubt. They made me want to give up all the progress that I had made and revert back to “what works”. I fight these voices every time I walk by a mirror, telling me to stop, lift up my shirt and examine the fat on my stomach and thighs, every time my pants fit a little tighter than they used to, every time I see an old picture of myself compared to a current one, every time I feel my fat jiggle when I run, or every single bite of food I put in mouth. There is no escaping it. Some people say that eating disorders never truly go away, it is something they have to deal with for the rest of their life. I only have two choices: two give in (and sometimes I do) or to be brave and choose to walk past the mirror without criticizing my body, or ignore the voices in my head, telling me to hate who I have become. To those of you that believe eating disorders are a choice, maybe you are right. I do have a choice. I can choose to give up and let myself down, or I can choose to stand up, be brave, and fight my way back. The reason I am so candid with my story isn’t as a way to shove my illness in anyone’s face. I write as way for people to understand but at the same time it helps me understand myself. It’s as much for me as it is for others. This disorder has an affect that makes people want to run away in hide. It makes both the victim and the bystanders uncomfortable and there for does not get enough credit for how dangerous and just how real it can be. I write to help people understand this. To show that it takes many forms. My case, isn’t the same as the next girl. Just as every person is unique so is this illness. It’s time for people to stop running away from the uncomfortable but instead choosing to embrace it. Everyone has a choice. I am choosing to be brave.
1 Comment
|
Details
Categories
All
Archives
April 2021
Categories
All
|