I have had exactly two strawberries and one-third of a banana so far today. I don’t really have a plan for the rest of the day because, for no reason that I am aware of, I am paralyzed with fear that I will gain weight from anything. Logical me is out the window, I can’t seem to reel her back in. There are six, (SIX!) times a day I am supposed to log meals. That’s six times I have to face this head on, and it’s terrifying sometimes.
Yesterday as I proceeded to skip the first 4 meals, I realized I was doing it because it’s easier. It’s easier to avoid facing the fear of eating and potentially gaining weight and having panic attacks over all of it. It’s easier to avoid every single emotion that is happening. It’s easier to be sick, it takes no effort to listen to the part of me saying you don’t deserve to eat today.
It takes an insurmountable amount of energy to fight that voice back. That voice is so cruel, so manipulative, so demanding. And I can’t let it go yet. I don’t know what it’s giving me that I can’t bear to live without, but at least I’m trying to fight it. I know two strawberries and one-third of a banana is practically nothing, but it’s better than nothing.
I kept telling myself this was a sudden relapse with no warning signs and in June a switch instantly flipped. The more I think about it, the more I’m beginning to reevaluate how I got here and I’m starting to think it has actually been an excruciatingly long time coming. I think pregnancy paused the last relapse and another pregnancy followed by breastfeeding for 9 months prolonged that pause.
Maybe with practice the fight will get a little bit easier. Maybe today I can stop being so harsh with myself for not being the World’s Fastest Recovered Anorexic. Just the fact that I am even questioning that terrible side of me is a huge win. I am trying really hard to accept that.