I suspect for most people that making healthy changes to their lives is a matter of discipline that eventually leads to a healthy lifestyle. For people like me (recovering anorexic), it’s instead a matter of balance that seems almost impossible to find.
So I’ve made the changes to diet and exercise. Going to sleep last night my empty stomach brought a sort of masochistic smile to my face. I wanted more. I immediately caught myself wondering how long I could go with this feeling before eating again. Then the sane part of my brain chimes back in that I shouldn’t do that. Rinse and repeat as the argument between the two parts of my psyche snipe at each other.
This morning I weighed myself. My goal was to go three days between hopping onto the scale. I made it one this time. I’ll do better next time.
I’m down eight tenths of a pound and the effect is immediate: an avalanche of happy feelings. My body relaxes, I breathe deeply. It’s seriously like being high — hell, even better.
How much do I let myself enjoy this? Too much and I know I’d be helplessly tempted into old habits.
I feel like this isn’t even me. *I* know where the healthy balance is. *I* know what behaviors are good for me.
Fortunately, I’m on a cocktail of meds that helps tremendously, but it doesn’t stop that silent, sultry voice inside my head. It’s still there, just quieter, more manageable. On some days not even a whisper, on other days more insistent, and occasionally still very seductive. But thanks to science, it’s never irresistible anymore if I stay strong.
So I downed an avocado and one of the cheese and almond snack packs I made. Was hard to finish the almonds. I kept thinking I could stop without eating them all and maybe lose another tenth of a pound. Sure enough, in comes the electricity through my body. It feels just like hope: hope that I could like what I see in the mirror one day sooner. Quickly I remind myself that it’s the only addiction I’ve ever had, and I force down the rest of my nuts.
I’m in control, and I’m getting healthier. I’m not writing for sympathy, I just want people to understand what’s happening between my ears. It helps to feel like people get it, and it helps me to talk it out.
Thanks for reading.