I’m taking a “step back” from the program for a couple weeks.
I actually missed it today. Having someone tell me I need to eat my snacks and lunch is way easier than the cycle of beating myself up every time I’m faced with the decision to eat or not.
Last weekend I thought I wouldn’t go at all this week (which on any given day half the group is like “I wasn’t going to show”), but I realized that I really didn’t want to go home after my appointment with the nutritionist. I mean what would I have done? Obsess about food, restrict, binge, purge? I can admit that I would have been miserable doing that. It’s hardly living. We at least get to play games after our challenge meal (although I will admit I blame yesterday’s pizza for my depression).
But now I’m taking a couple weeks off. Honestly, it wasn’t my choice, I’ve had trouble staying sober (a requirement of the program) and using is so intertwined with my eating disorder. I wasn’t ready to give that up. I didn’t have the skills to give it up during the first couple weeks. But they finally called me on my bullshit and told me to take a couple weeks off to refocus on why I want to be here.
Which…? My usual answer is that I don’t want my behavior to influence my future children. But that goal is too far off to help me get through this now. And it’s kinda hard to do it for the fictional children when Edie doesn’t give a damn about kids. I dream of peace on a farm somewhere, but Edie wants to live a rock and roll lifestyle. Edie is so damn convincing and truly believes that if I’m thinner my life will just fall together and it will be easy to change my ways at that point. I need some other reason to be there.
I keep hearing how recovery is more wonderful than you can ever imagine. Inner peace. The ability to enjoy life. Loving yourself unconditionally. But that is all so foreign. Happy sounds great, but at this point I’m relieved to be numb.
first day of intensive outpatient today.
it is so foreign to me right now.
Managed to make it through both holiday meals today.
I think I’m a little more ocd and manic than I give myself credit for. It’s 12:46 AM and I’ve decided I’ve decided I need to rewash every dish in the house. I’m going to buy myself a special plate and silverware set tomorrow, but the kitchen feels so unclean right now I can’t stand it. I feel repulsed by it all. And it’s totally irrational. While the cabinets its in need of a deep cleaning, it’s not like anybody else in the family can’t eat because of it.
I’m attempting to stick to the program and not keep a gym membership until I can handle it, but I just want to run, run away right now. But I think I might be more scared of being murdered jogging around after midnight than I am of not burning the calories until morning. I think this is progress.
I know some people like the “Ed” concept, but I think of the voice in my head as “Edie”.
She’s such a bitch.
curled up on the couch miserable, scared, and vulnerable. I ate more than I wanted to thinking I could sit with the discomfort. I made it through the first hour before becoming incredibly anxious, but there’s wasn’t much worth doing. I found milk of magnesia in the medicine cabinet. Laxatives aren’t my thing, but I was curious and desperate. the taste on my tongue was so awful I immediately gagged, but didn’t get the food up.
a glamorous life I lead.