This post makes no sense and is a hot mess of rambles. You’ve been warned.
I find myself dancing on the line between relapse and recovery every day. There are things that used to come simple to me in recovery that is now a struggle, lies are being told about fictitious meals that I tell people I consumed and my mind is constantly replaying conversations in my mind, using my words as a weapon against me.
I have dealt with mental illness my whole life. There hasn’t been a moment in my life where my mind hasn’t wandered to suicidal thoughts and it scares me to think that this is going to be my mind forever. Everyday a new battle, a core belief tested and the feeling of my heart breaking with every breath. My therapist says that I can’t think that way. I can’t use words like forever in my vocabulary because with his logic, who knows, tomorrow I may be ‘cured’. And he is correct. I don’t know what my forever looks like. Many people say that they wish they knew but I am quite content with the uncertainty. Because being anxious about the future is way more beneficial than knowing all the fuckery that will happen tomorrow. Shit, if someone told me my future 2 or 3 years ago, my name would probably be on a tombstone and not at the top of all my papers.
My current reality is rather confusing to begin with. There are days where I eat next to nothing but don’t obsess and days where I eat 3 solid meals and then some and am completely ok. It’s weird because it’s like I have all the physical symptoms but mentally I am nowhere near where I was last year. It’s like eating disorder 2.0. This new Anorexia has revamped itself and learned from my recovery mistakes. Although my appearance still breaks my heart anytime I get a glimpse of my reflection, purging and restricting is no longer about being thin. Do I want to lose weight? Yes. So badly. But when I restrict or purge that’s never the goal anymore. The goal is to be ok and to feel safe and in control. My Anorexia now knows that there are foods that no matter how long it may scream I at me, I will eat. My Anorexia knows that I won’t purge every day. So it’s morphed itself back into my life and it’s found the little cracks in my recovery to slip into.
The thought that recovery is just limiting symptom use without the goal of complete freedom from my eating disorder seems to make more sense to me. That thought terrifies me because whenever I say those words out loud, I get the look of “You’re relapsing’ from whoever is listening. There is a sense of comfort purging and restricting gives me and I am afraid to let it go. And it sure as hell isn’t going to let go of me.
I hesitate even typing these words for the repercussions it might bring but there is still an element of my eating disorder that I love. I love purging. I love that release. I love the feeling of emptiness, of completely disregarding all the bullshit in my life so I can focus solely on making myself sick. And it’s so fucked up because I love the act but I hate the consequences that are inevitable to come if I still allow myself to believe that limiting my symptoms is recovery.
And I hate that I love it. Eating disorders are abusive relationships. They fuck us up and we keep coming back while everyone just sits back and watches, thinking “What the fuck are you doing to yourself? There is so much better out there”. Maybe there is.
It really pisses me off that I love my eating disorder as much as I do. More so, it pisses me off that I even have to struggle with this. I am not trying to make this like a woe-is-me type deal because everybody is fucked up and everyone’s life sucks to some degree. There are a shit ton of people that have to deal with things that I couldn’t even imagine going though and have it way worse than me.
However it would be fucking nice to not have to think about food all the time. To not have seen the haunting images I have seen from inpatient and to not have to come up with excuses of why I spent a long time in the bathroom. It’d be fucking nice to get an invitation from a friend for a restaurant and my first gut reaction is “NO”. I’d love to have a day where the fear of relapse isn’t constantly there or have friends who aren’t dying from the same disorder that almost took my life. It would be a wasted wish to want to be normal because there is no such thing but I think a fair wish to blow the candles out to would be to hope that tomorrow I will wake up and never have these thoughts again.