I am sitting on the bed wondering what happened. How did I get to this point, again? I was moving forward, doing well. I define, "doing well" by having no ED behaviors. I've been doing well for about 7 months. Given, 6 of those 7 months were spent in treatment, but I've done it so I know I can do it again. I should be able to do it again. That 7-month period should have been the hardest time in my recovery, considering its temporal closeness to my lowest point. Or should it have been? Was I just in the initial gung-ho-I'm-all-about-recovery period? Was it beginner's luck?
It's interesting because I was very depressed until about a month ago, but I was having no behaviors. I was doing well. About a month ago, I started taking my meds again because the depression was getting to be too much. Now I'm happy (still uneasy about that word) and more emotionally stable, but compulsively exercising, bingeing, and purging almost daily.
It could be the fact that I have a 3-week break from work, but that only accounts for last week when the break started. What about all the weeks before that? What was going on then? I know. Things were beginning to be too normal, too mundane, too boring. I need to live in the black and white. I crave it. I am drawn, and used to the chaotic, extreme hour-to-hour, day-to-day living. I don't know how to be comfortable in the grey. When things start to be too normal, I feel so much anxiety an pent up energy to stir things up, usually for the worse.
"I have been in treatment. I know better.", is what plays in my head over and over. It has passed the point of being encouraging, and is now only discouraging and mocking. I have been in treatment, I know how therapy sessions are going to go, I have all the insight I need. Then why am I sitting here writing about these things? Why have I taken so many steps back? Why do I still need to write in order to let the urges pass? Why do I still have urges? Why can't I eat without dissecting the ingredients and counting calories? I know better.
I just had a cobb salad with less dressing than was in the package (370), toast (110), ice cream (90), m&m's (50). 620. The entire time I was eating, I was debating between whether or not I should binge/purge. I thought about all the food I don't have at home, and that while I'm cooking or buying food, the calories I've already consumed will be absorbed. I thought about how I have more than enough time to b/p before going to support group. I thought about how shitty I'd feel telling my boyfriend I b/p'ed yet again, and about the pain and exhaustion that comes from purging. It was the most mindful I have been in a long time. Yesterday, the same debate happened, except I actually b/p'ed. Today, I am able to listen to the con's and make them outweigh the pro's. One pro is that I will lose weight. Another is that I will get to eat everything I want without gaining weight. On a point system, those 2 have a greater total than the con's combined. But, somehow, I am able to stop myself in my tracks and put an end to my ED voice.
The urge has passed and I have 1 hour until I leave for support group. I'm proud of myself.
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