I’ve had many moments when I knew that I had to give up my Eating Disorder. Many moments. And those are the reasons that I have chosen recovery.
But, I’m not recovered. I’m getting there, working at it and doing my very best. I’m proud of that and the changes I have made.
I had a setback. It’s been quite some time since I have taken and have been doing quite well. But this unfortunately is part of the process. It doesn’t mean I’m back to where I started – it means I’m trying to recover.
It happened last Sunday. If you have been following my blog you will know that last Sunday is when Cooper fell of his bike and broke his elbow. I took before the accident happened.
Rob took him to the hospital and that is when we found out he would need surgery. I asked Rob why he wasn’t being taken down that night to Sick Kids. He explained that they were going to cast it and I would take him downtown the following day.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I knew that by taking laxatives later in the night (7pmish) it would run into the next day. The next day. The day that I wouldn’t have an option to stay at home. To lie in bed. To be in the washroom. I had to take Cooper to the hospital.
I’m not spiritual at all. But this was probably the first time I actually prayed to gd. I begged him to get me through the next 24 hours. Cooper was a priority. His care, his health and his well-being was what I needed to be 150% focused on. I was so afraid of what lay ahead for me. That is the scariest part of this disorder. The unknown.
I was in the washroom a couple times (after Rob got home) and he questioned if I took. For the first time, I told the truth, on the spot. Yes I did.
I woke up the next morning, surprised that I wasn’t up all night.
I got showered, packed some stuff for Cooper. Still nothing.
We went to the hospital. Nothing.
Were admitted. Nothing.
Later that day, I found out that his surgery would be Tuesday morning and we would be staying until Wednesday morning.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
I had maybe two trips to the washroom during the time I was at the hospital – but quick; in and out. Certainly not what I am usually accustomed to.
What the fuck?
Thank fucking gd.
I was with Cooper, focused on Cooper and all of my energy was making sure he was comfortable and happy. Somehow my prayers were answered. I don’t know how, but they were.
I learned one major lesson from this:
I could’ve put my son at risk, by not being able to take him to a very, serious and crucial appointment.
There is nothing more important than my kids, their health and happiness. Nothing.
My stupid fucking eating disorder almost got in the way of that. No excuses. Nothing would ever be able to explain or make excuses if gd for bid I was unable to take him. Imagine that. I would’ve had to call my parents to take him down because I wasn’t feeling “well.” Utter and absolute bullshit!
I would’ve never forgiven myself. Ever.
And I have been feeling great. It’s nice and refreshing to feel alive, have energy and be focused on the here and now.
You never know what life has in store for you – you need to be prepared to always be present and available for your kids. To think that ED almost got in the way of that is inexcusable and so upsetting that I certainly will continue to look forward and continue working at recovery.
No looking back.