I must have started typing this post at least fifty times over the course of a week. I literally have stared at the keyboard like, well…?
I admit that I have a hard time formulating my thoughts into words when I speak, but very rarely do I have a difficult time expressing myself through writing, which as you can imagine, becomes quite frustrating when I can’t articulate my thoughts in one way or the other.
The reason behind it is not as much complex as it is messy. The simple answer is there is way too much on my mind to be able to neatly and carefully “brain dump” onto such a blank page, nor have I had the mental energy too. The past month or so has been filled with so many ups and downs that it becomes hard to document a “good” day mentally when the next day ends up being the total opposite.
On my last post, I discussed something I never thought I would have to talk about on this blog. But that’s the thing, you don’t plan a relapse. I didn’t wake up one morning and decide that I wanted to fully engage in my eating disorder behaviors. It doesn’t work like that.
I wish I could say that getting back into my normal recovery mode has been easy. That I got right back up on the horse and things have been going swimmingly. But, they haven’t.
For a few days, things were going well. I decided to quite the patterns of my eating disorder I was engaging in and got back on an increasing meal plan with my dietitian. I was on fire for recovery again because let’s be honest, actually eating does a lot more good for the body and brain then restricting does.
But then you add anxiety and depression in the mix. A collision much like oil and water, they don’t mix well. In fact, it doesn’t even make sense.
On one hand, I’m anxious because I am eating more, feeling fuller, no longer feeling that serotonin high of emptiness and control that the eating disorder so gladly gets nourishment from in place of food. That’s an eating disorders fuel.
But on the other hand, I am depressed. I feel like I am just going through the motions.
telling screaming at me to obsess and freak out over this or that. To become so engulfed with how dangerous food feels inside my stomach that it can’t help but hurt. To overthink my day and stress out about what I need to, have to, and must get done. The upwelling feeling inside my chest pounding against my ribcage in a silent scream for help…
But depression. The “no one cares”, “no one sees your pain and even if they did so what”. “Oh, they didn’t ask so they don’t care or notice you are having a hard time”. “You’re not worth the help so why even try”. “You’re just being dramatic, everyone thinks so”. “They won’t understand so why explain.” “You’re not worthy”. “You’re fine, nothing is wrong with you”. “You are all alone”.
Anxiety makes it so that you feel everything and depression becomes upset with you because it wants you to feel nothing.
The conflicting thought processes get so entangled inside my head that no matter who you are, your instinctive nature would be to run. To do what makes you feel better. That’s just human nature.
That’s where restricting comes in.
But not only because of anxiety and depression. There’s so much more. Welcome to only the surface.