Yesterday, I just needed my eating disorder. I needed not to feel. I needed to give myself some semblance of control and of strength. I needed to know that I could still restrict, that somewhere deep inside me I could release the anorexic and let her speak, so I didn't have to. So speak she did, and no one heard her cries.
In reality, a person needs anorexia as much as gunshot to the stomach because quite frankly, they both do the same amount of damage. What did I really need? What was I really feeling? The problem was that I didn't know what I needed; I couldn't figure out what I was feeling. All I recognized was distress, and I am horrible at tolerating distress. I am also horrible with the unknown. I need to understand, and when I don't, I find myself getting into trouble, like yesterday.
The tricky part about recovery is that in moments of distress, the eating disorder can feel so comforting, like the nostalgia of reminiscing with a long-lost friend, with a friendship that had become toxic, a friendship that due to some strange bond made ending it long and painful. Sometimes, as time passes and life goes on, we forget the pain of that friendship, of the lies that friend had told, of the manipulation, the tears that friend caused us to shed. And in that first conversation, the memories of the good times are shared, further distancing us from the reality of what that friendship was. "Remember at prom when...?" "Remember rooming together at college and when...?"
However, once a friendship is rekindled, it quickly becomes apparent why it needed to end.
Eating disorders are like these venomous friends: warm and pleasant at first, treacherous and toxic as time passes. In moments of vulnerability, sometimes it's easier to return to what our minds tell us is comforting, having forgotten the pain. That was me yesterday, entertaining an old relationship, the door to which must always remained closed.
I didn't need the eating disorder. What I needed was a real friend. And though I was surrounded all day yesterday with healthy, robust friendships, I choose to crawl deep inside and reminisce with ED. All those feelings of power, of control, and of comfort were lies, and I believed them--hook, line, and sinker.
This morning, I ate a healthy breakfast and wrote this post to remind myself that my real needs and feelings may still scare me and that I will still experience insecurity and the unknown; however, I cannot rekindle a relationship hell bent on destroying me. I must find a way to tolerate the distress and use my own voice.
Cheers!
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