The last few weeks have been increasingly stressful. Random factors coming together to brew a storm of anxiety.
Nothing earth-shattering, but individuals stressors that begin to add up when dealing with them at once.
The last two days I was traveling for a work conference. Again, a bunch of random factors together had me stupid anxious.
The days leading up to my trip, I started flirting with my eating disorder behaviors. Restricting during the day, only to binge on not so nutritious snacks like chocolate at night.
My flight on Monday night gave me time to reflect on my behaviors. Immediately focusing on the chocolate I enjoyed the last few days, my urge to purge begin to become increasingly heavy.
It took everything in my power to not throw my face into that toilet. (Ew, I mean at the hotel now, not on the airplane. I do have some standards…)
But I’m proud to say my Recovery voice was stronger. We won the battle.
I woke up the next morning to a canceled flight and messy hair. I think I had multiple breakdowns before 8am.
I couldn’t eat.
“I should, but I can’t.” I reasoned.
I went the whole conference without eating.
“Oh that’s normal on busy conference days, I’m fine.” I reasoned.
But I could just see my therapists glaring eyeballs.
After a second canceled flight, I bought a ticket on the good ole’ Amtrak to get home. I had way too much anxiety to not hide under my own covers for the next day- I was getting home.
By the time I reached the train station, I was hangry AF.
I walked up and down the train station halls. Nothing looked good.
I finally settled on a premade sandwich shop. I felt proud for a moment.
When I was deep in my eating disorder, I would have never eaten a premade sandwich. I would have never eaten a damn sandwich! And now here I was buying a turkey avocado wrap!
As I bit in, by this point realizing I was ravenously hungry, I tasted some mystery spreads and sauces. My eating disorder voice started to creep in. I could taste the fat! *gasp*
Immediately, one of my treatment center therapists’ voices popped into my head. “Your digestive system needs a fat in sandwiches to help break down the other foods. It helps you digest it easier.”
My recovery voice had won again! I continued to eat, smiling about how great life in Recovery can be.
I then spent the next 6-hour train ride analyzing my sandwich. My stomach nauseous every time I thought about it. Calculating and recalculating the fat. Pinching my bloated stomach.
Yes, my recovery voice had won the battle, but my eating disorder voice wasn’t going down without a fight. It poked and prodded for the whole 6 hours. I became engulfed with guilt. But I continued to stay strong.
“You feel full and maybe bloated, but tomorrow is a new day and you won’t feel bad at all.” I reasoned.
It’s now 10:30 the next morning. I’m still thinking about that stupid ass wrap. I haven’t eaten yet. I should.
I keep bodychecking in the mirror. I keep rubbing my bloated stomach. I keep walking by the scale in my parent’s room.
“Weigh yourself, weigh yourself,” my eating disorder voice presses.
“What does that even do? Why will weighing myself solve anything?” I demand.
My strength quickly crumbles and before I know it I’m reading my weight on the scale.
It’s up a pound. I didn’t gain a million pounds like I thought I did from that damn wrap.
I sigh. It’s all in your head. Breathe.
I go downstairs to grab some grapes and a piece of toast. Just another day in recovery.