Let's Get Personal: Part III: My Experiences With an Eating Disorder (part 3)
When swept up in a toxic and unhealthy cycle, I think one gets to a point where they have to make a decision: either they make a change, or, they give up. And when that toxic and unhealthy cycle happens to be an eating disorder, giving up most likely means dying - either physically or emotionally.
I wasn't ready to give up, but there were more days than not where I questioned my own strength and capabilities of overcoming what had taken hold of me. I knew I couldn't overcome it on my own and that a change needed to happen, so I started seeing a counselor, but I had a hard time connecting with that person and just didn't feel like it was working. So I started seeing another counselor, whom I adored. She put me on this path of self-awareness and spirituality that was freeing and beautiful. I did hypnotherapy, trying to get to the root of my pain and what caused me to develop such a dangerous coping method. I did A LOT of yoga. And I started healing. I started making a change. Every day was progress towards beating the battle I had thrown myself into; and, as a result, I began to feel less like a victim and more like a warrior.
Then, in October of 2012, we moved. And not like an 'across town' kind of move. No, this was a 'several states away' kind of move. A 'leaving my safe place, my healing place, my happy place' kind of move. We drove away from this place with my counselor and my hypnotherapist and my yoga studio and my community in the rear view mirror. And I told myself I would be okay...that I had begun collecting the tools I needed in order to heal. I moved into my new house and my new community, full of optimism and hope.
But, as time slowly passed, and I couldn't find a job and my relationship with my family (once again) turned negative (...that's a whole other post...) and I had a difficult time making friends, I got lonely and sad. I felt my optimism and hope fade away. My thought patterns slowly reverted back to what they knew. In January of 2013, I wrote this:
"I feel the old, negative energy pulling at my soul, leading me down that old, dark, familiar path. It's sick, but it can be so addictive. Please don't ask me why. I don't know why. I wish it wasn't. I've been fighting the feelings...but I'm human. I've slipped up. Fallen down. But I fucking refuse to develop self-destructive and soul sucking old habits."
My determination to stay healthy was strong, but my old patterns proved stronger, and by March of 2013 I had thrust myself right back into the arms of my dark and morbid old friend. I felt so defeated and was so angry with myself. Why, after all this progress and healing, was I right back to square one? Why didn't I know better? No, actually, I did know better...the real question was, why didn't I do better? I had seen the beauty and freedom of releasing my eating disorder, and yet here I was again, doing the exact same thing. Why wasn't I stronger? Goddamnit, why wasn't I stronger? These questions haunted me. The shame and guilt of my relapse completely wiped out the progress I had made and I felt myself, once again, spiraling out of control. I allowed myself to get caught up, and I embraced it like a toxic ex-lover. I lost faith in myself. I felt like I was drowning. I started to give up.
I wasn't ready to give up, but there were more days than not where I questioned my own strength and capabilities of overcoming what had taken hold of me. I knew I couldn't overcome it on my own and that a change needed to happen, so I started seeing a counselor, but I had a hard time connecting with that person and just didn't feel like it was working. So I started seeing another counselor, whom I adored. She put me on this path of self-awareness and spirituality that was freeing and beautiful. I did hypnotherapy, trying to get to the root of my pain and what caused me to develop such a dangerous coping method. I did A LOT of yoga. And I started healing. I started making a change. Every day was progress towards beating the battle I had thrown myself into; and, as a result, I began to feel less like a victim and more like a warrior.
Then, in October of 2012, we moved. And not like an 'across town' kind of move. No, this was a 'several states away' kind of move. A 'leaving my safe place, my healing place, my happy place' kind of move. We drove away from this place with my counselor and my hypnotherapist and my yoga studio and my community in the rear view mirror. And I told myself I would be okay...that I had begun collecting the tools I needed in order to heal. I moved into my new house and my new community, full of optimism and hope.
But, as time slowly passed, and I couldn't find a job and my relationship with my family (once again) turned negative (...that's a whole other post...) and I had a difficult time making friends, I got lonely and sad. I felt my optimism and hope fade away. My thought patterns slowly reverted back to what they knew. In January of 2013, I wrote this:
"I feel the old, negative energy pulling at my soul, leading me down that old, dark, familiar path. It's sick, but it can be so addictive. Please don't ask me why. I don't know why. I wish it wasn't. I've been fighting the feelings...but I'm human. I've slipped up. Fallen down. But I fucking refuse to develop self-destructive and soul sucking old habits."
My determination to stay healthy was strong, but my old patterns proved stronger, and by March of 2013 I had thrust myself right back into the arms of my dark and morbid old friend. I felt so defeated and was so angry with myself. Why, after all this progress and healing, was I right back to square one? Why didn't I know better? No, actually, I did know better...the real question was, why didn't I do better? I had seen the beauty and freedom of releasing my eating disorder, and yet here I was again, doing the exact same thing. Why wasn't I stronger? Goddamnit, why wasn't I stronger? These questions haunted me. The shame and guilt of my relapse completely wiped out the progress I had made and I felt myself, once again, spiraling out of control. I allowed myself to get caught up, and I embraced it like a toxic ex-lover. I lost faith in myself. I felt like I was drowning. I started to give up.
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| All smiles on the outside but dying on the inside, 2013 |
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