Recovery is almost Bipolar. One minute I’m buzzing; confident that I’m going to do this and I’m excited about the freedom, the life, I will finally have. But the next minute, I don’t want to know. One minute, I want to hear that I’m doing well; I’m on the right track, hell- I might even be able to tolerate the idea I’m starting to look better… But the next, I want to stab someone for daring to comment on what’s on my plate and, my goodness, woe betide them if they so much as suggest I look nice.
There is nowhere in the middle…
Last night my brain was whirring, going into overdrive in attempts to rationalise the (lovely) meal out I’d had with my family.
I felt awful.
Awful because I’d enjoyed it.
Awful because I’d gone against what my brain was telling me to eat.
Awful because, after months of restricting, of course increasing is going to be uncomfortable at first.
Awful because I cannot even be left to enjoy a day out with my family without obsessing over what we are going to eat and when.
It was one thing when I thought I was alright with it, when I thought I was managing it, when I also thought I was in control of it and, I’m ashamed to admit, when I quite liked it… Then, I knew the score.
And now, now I’m actively trying to work against it… Yet, I still can’t push it away… Now, I want to look better and be well… Yet I still feel utterly disgusted with myself; like I’ve done something wrong when, I know, I’ve done something right. No, something, necessary.
How can my brain want two completely different things…?
Today is a hard day.
And today, it feels impossible. Today, I can hardly concentrate on anything other than that irritating white noise of rubbish in my head.
I don’t feel like sharing, I don’t feel like writing and I definitely don’t feel like recovering.
I thought, I definitely can’t post today- who would want to hear this..?
But hang on…
I want to know how you get past moments like these. How do you not just hold up your white flag, sit back and say “I’m done.”
Well, actually, I don’t know.
And, as far as my research goes, no one else really does either. “Keep trying” and “don’t give up” doesn’t really work coming from someone who isn’t currently up against the hungriest of all predators. I want to know how you fought it off. I want the play-by-play, the detail, not just the medal at the end of the race.
So, knickers, I’m going to experiment. It actually can’t get much worse, so I suppose it might as well be different.
I’m going to do just that…
Believe me, I want to give up, I WANT to just stop fighting what seems to be a completely fruitless battle.
But actually, when those polar opposite moments of manic positivity return, I will regret stepping back. All I will have achieved by stepping back will be making it 10 times harder. All I will have done is just weaved and wrapped myself into yet another web that I have to shake off…
What’s the point in that? To “level-up” to somewhere even worse than here?? Suddenly, giving up doesn’t seem like such a good idea.
I’ve definitely bitten off more than I can chew here… But it’s got to go down, one way or another.