Slow Motion and Numbers

I told my mom last night something that I didn’t even realize I was thinking.

I said things are moving slow motion for me right now.  And that’s a good thing.  That is what I need.  I can’t have added pressure, expectations or additional timelines that put me in a bad frame of mind.

It is obvious that ED is my coping mechanism for when I need “out”.  When I can’t or don’t want to deal with something I use him as an escape.  It’s mine, nobody else shares it with me, I get to step back and take a break from reality.  Trust me, I know that’s not a good thing.  NOT AT ALL.  What I’m working on is finding new ways to escape.  Go for a walk, write, go to the park, get a coffee at the mall, call family or friends or just sit on the sofa and watch TV.  By using ED as my scapegoat I am allowing him to give me privacy, but he’s killing me at the same time.

So right now, things must move slow.  I need time for each task, each movement and each decision.  Everything must be thought out and based on smart decisions.  The help I am getting now is leading me in that direction.

I am smart.  I get it.  This disease is stupid, dumb, moronic, idiotic and a waste of not only my time, but my life.

One of the things on my TO DO list that S asked me to create was a pro/con list of ED:



  • Get closer to your “ideal” body type – temporarily.


  • Even if you get closer to your “ideal body type” your ideal will then change to something farther out of reach.
  • You are mentally ill.
  • Crippling self doubt.
  • You will probably never have a “normal” relationship to food/your body.
  • You are fucking up your body/health.
  • It costs a lot of money
  • You alienate yourself
  • Disappoint yourself
  • No energy
  • Can never concentrate
  • Muscles waste away
  • Realistically “lack” of control
  • You can and likely will die


So, being the smart person I am – and even if I was a complete moron, when looking at that list I realize that ED has no pros.  The one that is written is not even worth it.  Because what I think is “ideal” is not ideal.  I rarely use numbers (that is a big thing in recovery – numbers are not to be discussed), but for purposes here I will.

At my physical in February of 2014 I weighed 119.

In September of 2014 I weighed 115.

In  December of 2014 I weighed 105.

In April of 2015 I weighed 89.  That was one year ago.  I do not weigh that, nor do I ever want to weigh that again.

I have not weighed myself in quite some time, and truthfully I don’t want to.  I know I am in double digits – I can tell.  And that is how I have to measure myself.  Numbers are not healthy.  They play with your mind.  If I feel good than that is what should matter.  Yes, clothes will get tighter but I have to realize that wearing a size 00 pair of pants, or shopping in the kids section is not okay.

So, as I continue down the slow road to recovery, every day that moves in slow motion is one step closer to my goal.  And that is the way I like it.


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