It starts like any other day. Wake up to a good morning sung by a blissful 6 year old, who proclaims it's morning because a ray of sun has peeked in through the curtains. Its 6 AM. By now the baby, who unintentionally co-sleeps with us, has awoken from the bustle of feet and dogs stirring and believes it is morning too. So we get up. Coffee brewing, frozen waffles plopped into a toaster oven that could really use a good cleaning, but the crumbs on the floor remind me that I will be lucky to get laundry and vacuuming done today. Ambition silenced I hand coffee to my husband who is off to work then get my 6 year old on the bus. It is in the moments after that chaos that the house settles into a quiet calm. Dogs lay down for their mid-morning nap and I take a moment to drink the coffee that has been waiting for me for two hours. The baby explores the living room, scurrying into unknown corners and cabinets. After some adventuring the baby goes down for her nap leaving me alone with my coffee and my thoughts. For me that is the most dangerous place to be...
A smooth silence fills my ears, harmonizing with the humming of the dishwasher cleaning the dinner dishes from last night. A weight starts to creep into my chest as I think about the day ahead of me. You should have made plans today, you should be doing things with the baby but you don't even have friends to hang out with. The baby needs to be around other kids her age you are not doing a good job as a mother. I am okay, I am okay, I am okay. No wonder you don't have any friends, you can hardly function alone! I am working on it and I know that I will find the right people when the time is right. I need to eat breakfast. Are you sure you want to do that? How are you going to feel after you eat...This will slowly make you bigger over time then you will loose whatever happiness you feel from being skinny...then what will you do? I breathe through the tightness in my chest and focus on the bird picking through the grass in the front lawn.
Every morning is a battle in my mind to keep my thoughts where they belong. But trying to catch a wandering mind is difficult. Especially if you don't realize its wandering. Breakfast. I need to eat breakfast is where I focus as my mind says maybe I could skip it because no one is here to know. But I would know, and there is a guilt that lingers in the pit of my stomach. I portion out my food carefully measuring so that I don't eat any more than I have to. Breakfast down, medicine taken and now I start my day. I always envisioned recovery as the cure. That once I was in recovery I would be "better". I had no idea that recovery was still having the thoughts but not allowing them to dictate my behavior. Not giving in to their lies but acknowledging that they are there. Having to come to terms with that was probably more difficult than having to a food that I felt was "unsafe". That this is not like a cold or bruise that goes away when it is healed. Having an eating disorder means that I will always have a disordered relationship with eating and I have to learn to work around that. I hear the thoughts but know that they are not true and hope that with time they will become quieter. I have had to learn that when I feel tired I am actually hungry, that instead of drinking coffee I need to eat something because my stomach stopped growling years ago. I have had to accept that I might feel upset after eating, that the feeling of being full will trigger anxiety, and that it will pass.
Tub water cyclones down the drain taking with it the suds of another day passing. I have made it through Monday. Kisses and cuddles, books and bedtime and my husband and I find a quiet moment together before a blowing branch or dog bark wakes the baby from her sleep. Cuddled on the couch I hear him ask me how my day was and I know that he is asking if I was alright in my mind, if I ate, if I was happy. My heart hurts knowing that he wants to make sure I am alright, that he asks because he is worried and I feel relieved to know that I am not fighting this battle alone.
Recovery is achieveable as long as you are fueled enough to fight for it every day.
Wonderful piece. I am 54 years old and have battled disordered eating since my very early 20's. I have no one to share the struggle with and most people will never know this about me. Every meal is a trade off, just as you describe it, what I need to eat vs what I want or don't want. Can I skip a meal, I'm not really hungry, can I skip another one, two??? The anxiety of a full stomach is something very few would understand. Thank you for this piece.
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