I always feared this day would happen. The day I realize that the eating disorder voice I’ve tried so hard to silence can still be heard. And although it’s faint, barely a whisper; it terrifies me.
I don’t weigh myself regularly. Just often enough to know my weight when asked by a doctor and to satisfy my own curiosity. And while I do watch what I eat and am focusing on working on my fast food addiction I don’t count anything because math has never been my strong point and I tend to obsess.
But I can feel the paranoia growing in me. It creeps up on you when you don’t expect it. On the drive home from work, in the middle of the night and you switch from sleeping on your left side to your right, and when you shower. Especially when you shower and you’re forced to see what you try to hide from site under clothes. I know what is causing this and it’s change. But since when has change not caused some form of anxiety in my life?
I had my gallbladder removed 2 weeks ago and had to put in my 2 week notices in at my retail job about a month sooner than I wanted to as a result. Since than I have not been very physically especially compared to how much I used to be. Because contrary to popular belief retail is not just standing on your feet all day. It’s more like an all day sprint around the store.
Only now at the up coming 3 week mark am I finally allowed to soak my incision which means I can finally break out my new swim suit for the summer and lift more than 10 pounds which mean cuddling my friend adorable 18 month old again.
Not being physical and eating much more out of boredom is becoming my down fall and the crack to voice needed to sneak it’s why back into my mind. I use to think that complete recovery was possible and that I was almost there. It was within reach and then BAM! something so simple as surgery. Something everyone experiences has tripped me up. Maybe true recovery isn’t possible.
I guess the jury is out on that one.