White toast x 2, with butter.
Egg mayo sandwich (wholemeal), 5-bean salad, side salad.
Pear, full-fat yoghurt.
Salmon (bit of olive oil), egg noodles, mixed vegetables, sweet chilli sauce.
…& the usual PINT of semi-skimmed milk.
Another one down. Another candle blown out…
…seventeen on the BMI birthday cake today. I’m sure every hidden cell in my body is currently having a little boogie, doing the ‘konga’ round my healthier, restoring heart muscle. Thanking it’s lucky sherbet I’m now able to keep it pumping confidently, and not scraping the barrel of life at the pulse of 28, back in the middle of May…
…that confusing evening an ambulance was called (and my Anorexia was wondering why such a fuss) seems like a distant and fuzzy memory – mortified at the thought of having to drink some fruit juice and eat half a slice of toast to raise my blood sugar levels out of the danger zone.
My body MUST be blowing out the candles out today, enjoying the celebratory smell of birthday cake… but my brain, not so much.
To be honest, the physical feeling of my body expanding slowly and surely, is something that I’m not so panicked about nowadays. I’m not saying it feels easy showering and feeling softer bits everywhere, or that I don’t have the odd freak out about the new bounce of gravity my boobs now take on when my bra comes off at the end of the day… but it’s amazing how much power ‘acceptance’ can have on your sense of peace.
Whilst the support worker tapped at the calculator this morning (after I did my deed on the scales) I felt like I was waiting for the ‘Sorting Hat’ to tell me to which house I belong… who and what I’d be up against… what my fate would look like…
The announcement of my new BMI came: “17.01”.
My Eating Disorder basically heard “Slytherin”.
That was it, I could feel the stabilisers coming off my steady, mental bike… I’d had a bit of practice at my last BMI ‘birthday’… the 16’s being a significant stage over my years in recovery, but this was a new gold-dusted type birthday cake with a butterscotch buttercream.
I had a quick cry before cheering myself up with coffee. Not because I was scared to be getting ‘bigger’… but emotionally, I felt scared, behind. I was more upset about the fact my social confidence has felt terrible this week, my self-esteem slippering like a jelly down a ski-slope… the heightened anxious-ness about what others think of me. It’s now the worry I wake up with and go to sleep with. Instead of the fear of sponge and custard…
…I feel about ten again. After speaking to my Occupation Therapist yesterday, it was reassuring to pin-point that starting to feel uncomfortable feelings that you have for so long kept a lid on, and not actually dealt with, is common with weight restoration… the brain tuning in again. And it makes sense to me. Throughout the time I should have been experiencing puberty and learning HOW to deal with my anxieties, my Eating Disorder was my tool. It directed me to find a way to cope, taking me away from facing what really scared me most and made me feel weak.
So I feel like I’ve lived those years, I guess like in my last post, with headphones on. And now I’m really exposed and I’ve taken a bit of an emotional time-travel back to before my Eating Disorder, when I was really ‘feeling’ stuff.
Me, of course… I was CHUFFED at what a 1.6kg weight-gain this week brings: I can go on leave this weekend!!!!! And after a long, lonnnnggggg couple of days on the Unit last week, I pretty much can feel the wind through my hair already. That freedom being something I’m working for… reassuring that the rising number beneath my feet is very much building me new opportunities.
Roll on the weekend and my inner free bird…
I’d say that was more of a ‘Gryffindor’ feeling than ‘Slytherin’!