So yesterday there was this awesome recipe on MyFitnessPal that I really wanted to try (don’t judge my usage of said app…I’m not a religious user)…a veggie bowl. I love vegetarian food and this looked yummy so I printed off the recipe and bought the needed ingredients to make it today. I was almost excited about it. I was definitely looking forward to it. You can find it here: http://blog.myfitnesspal.com/veggie-bowl-farro-egg-recipe/
I like to cook. I love trying to make new things. So I counted down the minutes until I could begin the recipe. (Actually, I started preparations right when I got home from the grocery store.) As I cooked BBQ meatballs (for my family) and roasted brussel sprouts and mushrooms, fried TWO eggs, and cut up the avocado, I nibbled. I ate some cabbage and some carrots, I ate half the avocado (because I LOVE avocados with lime and salt), and I even taste-tested the millet (which I bought to replace the farro).
All good. Going great. My only ED thoughts were about how I could make my plate look just like the picture. Dinner finished I assembled my “bowl” and filled my girls’ plates. Then something happened that never does…. We all sat down together at the table and ate!
Friggin amazing recovery moment right there….. Until it wasn’t.
I don’t know what happened. All of a sudden I started to put my fork down…inside I was telling myself “If you do that, you’re not going to pick it up again…. You know that, don’t you?? Don’t do it….”, but it was too late. I put it down. I put my fork down!
At treatment that was a dead giveaway of my beginning to struggle. I forgot about that. I forgot what it felt like to disassociate at the dinner table, to lose the ability to speak, to move, to blink….
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t talk. I needed to be a parent in that moment, by the way, and I couldn’t say anything and when I finally did I threatened to leave! That is NOT me. I would NEVER leave my girls like that.
I lost all control.
My husband, the love, came over and picked up my fork and put some egg on it and said, “take a bite” while lifting it to my mouth. I turned my head away and couldn’t bring myself to even look at the food, at him, at that damn egg. The anxiety welled up inside of me and I quit breathing. Finally, I got up and, of course, my girls, afraid I was leaving, asked me where I was going…twice. I told them outside.
I didn’t leave. I just train-smoked instead. Sent a snap to my best friend and tried to verbalize how I was feeling.
I caught myself pleading with ED. I’ll never do it again! I swear! Just don’t make me feel this way anymore! I’m done. If this is what recovery feels like I don’t want it. I don’t want another round of treatment. I’ll never do it again. Just make this go away.
The cries of someone who’s lost control.
Control… I know. I’ve never really had it, but somewhere along the way I’ve allowed myself to believe that semblance of a falsehood… so I don’t have to feel. That’s why I disassociated. It’s a protection mechanism that I can’t control.
A dear lady I know passed away yesterday leaving her husband and two young boys behind. We knew it was coming, but the moment of its arrival was a shock. She passed away while her sisters in Christ sang to her just outside of her hospital room. I think that’s the way I’d like to go. I nearly cried. Nearly…
I knew what was happening, had been in the news loop all day, and I was fine, until my husband texted me and told me how she passed. I could feel the sadness welling up in me, but save one stray tear, no emotions would come.
That is how not in control I am. And it makes me kind of sad. Just a little.
Today was a lesson for me. I’m not sure where to put it or what I want to do with it, but I knew I needed to record it so I don’t forget again.
So next time you feel in control, especially if you’re dealing with an eating disorder, try to remember the last time you felt out of control and who, in that moment, was actually in control. The shittier it feels the more likely it is that it isn’t you in control…. Boy I need to remember that…