The most awful times in my life have been during my eating disorder. Everything bad is because of this disease.
Having your son knock on the washroom door asking you to play, but you feeling too sick to move is something that you can never get back.
“I’ll be out in a bit” I have to tell them but I know a bit means a long time. At that moment I realize what I’m giving up. Time. And it is something you never get back. My kids are this age, this day only once and I have allowed ED to rob me of this time. They are certainly way more important than ED. And I am way more important than ED.
This vicious circle will never end. The feeling of completing something you have set out to do seems like a reward. But what I’m doing is not a reward. It’s a punishment. So, as I continue therapy and see a nutritionist and group sessions I need to let go of a part of my disorder that really is holding me as a prisoner. The scale. It’s poison. I let it dictate my day, what I eat and how I feel. Fuck that. I want my family, my friends and acquaintances to dictate how I feel.
Not a stupid plastic square on the floor that shows me I’m underweight. I already know that. And keeping it will not allow me to move forward.
Today, after camp mom with my two eldest boys, I sent them inside to play so I could take care of business outside.
I was due for a big step. Not a baby step.
Farewell scale. I hate you. Stepping on you over two dozen times a day is exhausting. It’s a waste of my time and a waste of my emotional state. So fuck you for telling me how my day will start and how I should feel about myself at night.
Lisa 1. Scale 0.
And this is what defined me!?!