These are the moments I struggle with the most. After the morning of a night out, after the workday is ended, after I’m back from dinner and drinks, when I get home from my boyfriend’s. When I’m alone with my thoughts, that’s when I struggle the most. I know I’ve come really far from when I started recovery, because at that time I didn’t even allow myself to have those night outs or enjoy Sunday brunches with friends. Because if I didn’t engage in these activities, I wouldn’t feel the guilt when I’m alone. The guilt that tells me I’ve failed, that I’m weak, and that makes me start to spiral. I caved and gave in to my cravings when I was around others. How can I be disciplined if I let myself slip up so easily? I should’ve been stronger and stayed in and shown everyone that I don’t go out and eat all of that greasy restaurant food. That I’m healthier because I’m going for a 10 mile run instead of going to brunch. That I don’t need to sleep in because it’s lazy and is precious time I could be working out and proving that I’m in control of my life. Because according to Ed, I’m stronger when I’m isolated. And frankly, Ed can fuck off. I can’t put into words how much I’ve missed the moments above where I’m out with friends, or I’m out with my boyfriend, and we’re eating and laughing and enjoying each other’s presence. These past few months I’ve felt so free in these moments because I feel like me again. I’m able to love and feel love and live in that moment. That’s what I want to hang on to.
But remember that block my therapist told me that I’m on that’s crumbling? Where I can either leap onto the next one or fall backwards? It’s these me, myself, and I moments that are the going to determine the outcome. That’s the confusing part. Those me, myself, and I moments before were the moments that I listened to Ed. That I purposely isolated myself to go capitalize on an adrenaline rush of restriction and output. And now the me, myself, and I moments are focused on pushing myself to be accountable when no one else is watching. To not give in to the habits that tried to kill me.
That’s why I’m here.
When I’m alone, I can hear Ed in my thoughts. The voice that tells me no one will know if I skip a meal or two, if I binge and purge, or workout until the hunger goes away. The one that tells me to go back to only egg whites and salad without dressing. That voice sneaks up on me when I’m alone. I’ve gotten back to the point where I’m comfortable in a social setting, enjoying food and drinks with friends and family, and everything feels as it should in the moment. I feel in control of my actions, proud that I can feel like myself again with the people I love. What you see is someone enjoying themselves, smiling, indulging in alcohol and food along with the rest of the group. But what you can’t see is the guilt that starts to creep up on me after-the-fact. The guilt that tells me I shouldn’t have had that last slice of pizza or bite of ice cream. That I should’ve ordered the salad at dinner because I had already had ‘too many carbs’ that day. That’s the guilt that haunts me when I’m alone. It’s a constant tug-a-war in my mind between knowing that I love feeling like myself around others again but that I’m terrified of the ‘consequences’ of my actions when I’m alone again. So this is the space I’m using to separate my thoughts. To center myself and know that it’s Ed in my head telling me that there are consequences to embracing who I am and surrounding myself with people I love. To stop myself from sitting here and starving myself again because I don’t want to feel that guilt. I don’t want to become numb again. I would rather feel this temporary guilt that I know I’ll overcome, than risk losing myself.
I don’t have a plan for this.
I’ve never written on a platform before and I honestly haven’t read too many blogs so I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be following some book on ‘How to Blog’ or some set of rules set by instagram influencers. But I think that’s what I like about it. This feels like a place where I’m talking to myself but also talking to everyone and anyone who wants to listen. I started this blog to help with the me, myself, and I moments, but a piece of me also hopes this finds someone else who is struggling with those moments. I want to be raw and vulnerable. I tried struggling on my own and I thought that made me strong. But right now, writing these posts and actually listening to MY voice inside my head, I feel stronger than I ever have before. The more I hear my voice in these me, myself, and I moments, the less I hear Ed’s. The less I hear and feel Ed’s presence, the more I can be myself, whoever I decide that woman is going to be now. So yeah, I don’t really have a plan for this blog except to find my voice and never lose it again.
My heart feels so full.
I had written out my first blog post a few days ago and wasn’t sure if I should share it. I didn’t know what people would think. And then I realized that if this blog can help someone else out there who has felt the way I have by showing them they’re not alone, then I can get over my fear of being judged by assholes on the internet. And the amount of love and support that I have gotten since my first post has been incredible. So I wanted to take a second and just say thank you to everyone who has supported my writing, and most importantly, to those who have supported me throughout recovery. I wouldn’t be here writing this if it wasn’t for you.
Blooming into Myself 