So on my last post I talked about my physical progress in my recovery.
What I believe to be more important is the mental progress — of any recovery.
Let’s just say… I AM HAPPY!!!
Oh my goshhhhhh, I never thought I would ever be able to say that… I AM HAPPY I AM HAPPY I AM HAPPY! Look, I even said it three times. That’s how you know it’s the real deal.
Alright so those with an eating disorder really do know the mental toll it takes on you. It’s a little harder to make it relate to those who haven’t lived through it. I’m definitely not saying that the pain and destruction of an eating disorder trumps other types of pain and destruction — no no no, I’m not saying that at all. I’m just saying that it’s hard to really understand someone else’s struggles when you haven’t experienced them yourself. So I’ll try my best to make all of this make sense!
That number. The number on the scale. Every morning, every afternoon, every evening, and the hours in between… every second of every day was devoted to that number. Every second of every day held thoughts only about food, exercise, and that number. I exercised only because “I was revolting” (now, fitness is my passion and I do it 110% because I LOVE IT). Food was not normal. I looked at any food or product and I already knew the ins and outs of the nutrition label because I had read it 1,000 times over and over again but never actually ate it. I’d only eat the things anorexia told me were “okay”.. and I wasn’t allowed to eat a normal portion, only just a sliver or a piece. So, anorexia destroyed my perception of food.
Another thing that anorexia destroyed was me. I did not love myself in the slightest. I hated every part of me, inside and out. The hatred only grew every time I took a breath, every single time I would wake up in the mornings. I would sit in front of the mirror and I would just sit and cry, sit and cry, sit and cry. I would hit myself, I would hurt myself with other things. But the comments I made to myself were the most damaging. I don’t really believe that it was myself making those comments. I wouldn’t say that. Anorexia did.
I became “good at nothing”, only at losing weight even though it would “never be enough” to satisfy. I became nothing but a statistic, a number, a speck in a world full of vibrancy and life.
I isolated myself. I didn’t go out because of food. I didn’t see people because I was ashamed of my body. Anorexia became my only “friend” and I depended on it. I lived for it.
But NOWWWW, my friends… NOW I AM LIVING!!!
I exercise because it is my PASSION, I eat food because I ENJOY IT and it KEEPS ME ALIVE, I go out with my friends (and new friends!) because life is TOO SHORT!!! I’m still working on the self love part, yes, but that will always be a process. I no longer hate myself. I no longer want to tear my body apart. I no longer step on the scale every day and I no longer sit in front of the mirror and spend my day crying. I am living.