I was walking up with my laundry somewhat amazed on how far I can push my body. I have a virus, a fever, body aches and chills and yet I haven’t slowed down since this all started Friday. In fact, the best thing that has come from this whole illness is being able to just say “I’m sick” has allowed me to completely isolate myself without people asking questions. And at first glance, I was proud of it. I glamorized this ability into something that set me apart from other people. I am used to feeling shitty and pushing my body beyond what it can handle because that’s all you do when you have an eating disorder. I can’t tell you how many times last year my body was so exhausted that I am still shocked that I survived as long as I did. It’s like I was the energizer bunny with a really weird diet.
Then I thought more about it. All I ever do is push myself with the hopes that eventually all the ‘hard work’ will pay off. I pushed myself through starving and purging hoping that one day I’ll be thin enough and it’d be worth it. I pushed myself through horrible relationships hoping that if I worked hard enough, things would work out. I pushed myself through trauma after trauma because I was so terrified that if I stopped any of it than everything that I knew was true would actually feel real. I made myself truly believe that I could crawl myself out of any tunnel to see the light at the other end but I’m not crawling in a way to get out, I just keep crawling deeper and deeper into this damn tunnel. I’ve kept going and going to the point where I don’t even know where I was wanted to go to and what exactly I was pushing away from. I have not napped once since my fever started Friday, I haven’t made an extra effort to sleep more, gotten out of one class because of my illness so I could write two extra credit papers and recovery wise, these past two days have been nothing but eating and purging. I drink gatorade to make up for everything, as if it is some magical elixir. My body is so weak and exhausted but I don’t know how to stop to be still and heal. And I look to the days ahead of me and I keep piling more and more on my plate. Another weekend duty, programs, errands, groups, helping a friend with their work, talking to a resident, reading ahead, taking notes, writing papers that aren’t due for weeks and trying to come up with things to blog about.
I still want recovery, I still don’t want to fail, and I still want to get better. Those are things that I still want. It’s just foggy to me on how I am supposed to get it. I can still do this.
***Quick little update from when I first wrote this, I’ve decided to sleep in tomorrow and take one thing off my plate. I use my blog as a vent sometimes and write what I am too afraid to say. Luckily for me, a solid amount of my followers know me and text spam the fuck out of me when I say I’m slipping so I can get back on track. So ta daa I’m allowing myself to rest and I know what I’m going to eat tomorrow for breakfast.****