What Happens When I Sit Down To Eat
I am lacking on motivation to write this week.
To be honest, it’s been a busy week. I haven’t had much time to sit down and blog. People sometimes don’t understand how one can be “busy” when hospitalized. But between meals and snacks and group therapy and individual therapy, it can be hard to carve out the time to do other important things.
I don’t have much to say this week other than that I’ve been sad. Sad and emotional. I think I have cried almost every single day. I was wondering why I was so emotional, and I think it is the eating disorder that is sad - because it is in jeopardy. Every time I place the fork or spoon in my mouth, I am weakening ED’s power, and it is panicking.
Because the eating disorder voice is synched with my own at times, I panic too. I panic because eating feels wrong and gaining weight feels so uncomfortable that I want to crawl out of my own skin. I literally want to crawl out of this body and place my mind into a different one. I don’t know if that image accurately depicts how emotionally painful this weight gain process is.
Eating feels wrong because eating for me, right now, means gaining weight. And gaining weight feels wrong because it is unfamiliar and goes against every rule the eating disorder has created over the past ten years. Seeing changes in my body feels wrong because I am used to seeing bones and those bones are slowly disappearing. Changes like that drive my mind crazy and make me feel so incredibly overwhelmed.
Why is it that everything that is “good” for me feels so bad? Well, that is the nature of mental illness. Your thoughts become so twisted and the eating disorder tricks you into thinking that the actions you are taking to heal yourself will not heal you at all.
So, eating disorder recovery is tricky. It’s not as simple as eating and gaining weight. You literally have to challenge your thoughts every minute of every day until they are no longer as powerful. When I sit down at a meal, I am not really afraid of the food. I am more fearful of the fact that food, right now, means weight gain and weight gain threatens the eating disorder and when it does, my head is is not a good place to be. My eating disorder throws insults at me left, right, and centre every time I eat and step on the scale.
I am sincerely hoping that this is the last time I will go through this torture. And yes, I am calling it torture.
Despite all of this, I wake up every day, get dressed, and show up. I show up to the table 6 times a day and eat. I eat and then I constantly remind myself that I am doing the right thing. I think of the bigger picture.
Like I said earlier, I’m not really scared of the food. It goes so much deeper than that. But in going through treatment for the tenth time, I am hoping I will never have to return. I am anxiously waiting for the day I feel better.