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.