Today

For kind of a mid-week check-in on how the extra meal per day is going. To put it simply, I hate it. I am uncomfortably full all the time and most hours merely the thought of eating makes me nauseous, actually eating is even worse. I won't know for certain how much weight I've gained until Friday, but I definitely feel like I've added a good 10 pounds in the last 4 days alone. And the guilt, holy cow, I had no idea that adding another 350 calories to my day would give her so much leverage to make me feel like the most pathetic, worthless, out of control person on the planet.

I spent Sunday afternoon out with a friend so I brought my Ensure with me to drink as we were driving. It wasn’t that hard in the moment because we were having fun, there was laughter, and there was a lot of positive distraction. She was disgusted though, and as soon I swallowed that last drop, a rush of guilt went pulsing through my veins that still hasn't dissipated. She couldn't believe I'd just consumed so many calories, and she instantly began listing all of the things I should do to mitigate the damage I’d just done. I should cut out cut out lunch, or dinner, or my night snack. I should go walk for an hour when I got home. I should work out, not just an easy yoga routine either, but a hard core Jillian Michaels exercise or two or three.

Yesterday, I switched from the Ensure to actual food and had a high-calorie protein bar and fruit as soon as I got to work in the morning. Eating went ok, although I definitely didn’t enjoy it, but the impact on my thoughts afterwards was shocking. She made me feel so overwhelmingly full that even eating a salad seemed more difficult than running a marathon (she actually probably would have loved a marathon). I fought with her all day long on whether or not I should skip a side on one of my meals. I fought all day with her on how much exercise or physical activity I should do. I wanted so badly to do what she was telling me to do.I wanted her to be right.

 So far the worst thing I’ve done food wise is choose some lighter calorie options at some meals, but I am having every part of a meal. So far I have had an extra 350 calories every day since Friday. I am still walking as much as I was before and I have (like before) done some light yoga routines, but I haven’t strayed into the category of “strenuous” exercise. My best friend has been texting me every night to make sure I've had my extra food, and another friend is making sure I wake up to a Facebook message reminding me to eat. Those two daily reminders have been incredibly helpful, and I am very grateful. I have noticed that after walking my legs aren't quite as tired as they have been of late. I've noticed too that I am a little less tired overall. Those are good things that I try to pay attention to. Sunday was truly one of the best days I've had in a long time, and every day there have been bright moments of laughter and joy - glimpses of the life that I am fighting for.

~~~~~

 Something else happened today that wasn't full of joy, and definitely quieted my laughter. The details aren't mine to share, but my thoughts I feel I must.

Throughout the course of my recovery, there have been times where I’ve felt anger towards my disorder and the chaos she's created in my life. It also isn’t uncommon for me to experience flashes of annoyance and irritation with her and what she’s taken away from me thus far. Normally though, I don’t have room for anger. Normally all my energy is wrapped up in fighting her. She responds to my fight by hitting back hard almost every day with shame, pain, guilt, and self-loathing. Her punches, kicks, yells and insults are often transformed into physical manifestations of weakness, exhaustion, headaches, nausea, stomach-aches, and occasionally actual physical pain. Often these daily battles leaves me feeling tearful and defeated at days end. I try not to turn to anger then, because I feel that if I did that the anger would cause me to lose focus on what I’m fighting for. I think for me giving into anger would make it easier for her to overpower me. So I chose to fight with my spirit and my heart instead.

Today I am angry, but not with her. I am angry that people I care about have to experience this same torment. I’m angry that wonderful, strong, smart, beautiful, amazing individuals have to suffer with a voice in their head that’s telling them every day they aren’t good enough, aren’t’ worthy enough of happiness and a life full of freedom. I wish so badly that their disorders were real physical beings that I could pull out of their minds and stomp out forever. I’m angry that I can’t do more to help them, kind of a laughable thought I know considering most days I’m barely capable of helping myself. I'm angry at the helpless feelings these disorders create in their victims, and angry at how helpless the people who love them feel when they can't help. It makes me angry, and it makes my heart hurt.