This morning I stepped into the shower lungs burning, coughing, eyes tearing from light sensitivity–thanks steroids. What I could see with an overwhelming fear is a fat body. Fat that wasn’t there the day before. Which tells me it’s not real, but is still hard to convince myself it’s not real. I spent the whole shower, in between hacking, panicked that being sick is causing me to gain weight. The medicine, the no exercise, the laying horizontal for much of the past several days, the accumulation of holiday indulgences that I imagine sticking to every body part I already hate.
I let myself believe I’m annoying and the most irritating client to my team and wondered why I continue to need to reach out so much, as an adult, fully capable of making my own healthy decisions.
Stop. Reframe. Now.
This morning I stepped into the shower so sick, and it’s hard for me to have positive thoughts when my body is fighting off a bacterial infection and all my energy is poured into that. It was hard to have anything nice to say about my body, but I know I’m doing the best I can in my current circumstances. This is temporary. I will not be sick forever. I will be able to workout again. I will not be on all these drugs forever.
I am only doing what I know helps me the most. That is letting others (but especially my therapist) know what’s happening. What thought is inhibiting me from moving on, or eating an adequate amount, or launching me into depression or anxiety? If I can get it out, it’s usually more helpful than any other tool. No one has said, “I need you to contact me less.” I have actually only heard, “contact me more!” And yes, while I am fully capable of making my own healthy decisions, the honest truth is that I have not conquered my eating disorder yet and it infiltrates my thoughts a lot and having professional help to aid that fight is ok.
This is just me in real recovery.
This is just me trying to rewire my brain in the ways that make the most sense to me.
This is me being brave and strong.
This is me trusting.