So on Friday after feeling particularly low about myself all night Thursday (for reasons I have figured out for certain now instead of just jumbling them all together so they don’t make sense) I got up too late to get breakfast and drank twice the amount of water I usually drink before 1pm, which was when my only class for the day was at. I somehow trudged across campus and sat in class. I enjoy my math class but I could not for the life of me focus on anything that day. I couldn’t think for the entire hour. I was tired, nothing seemed right, I wanted to flop over and go straight to sleep. I didn’t want to stay awake and I felt physically incapable of walking to the SURC to get lunch. I thought I was going to pass out. I had to ask the Actor to bring me a snack at my class when it got out so I could make it to the SURC to finally eat a substantial meal that day.
So here’s the thing: when I was at my worst point in my eating disorder I went 12 hours between each meal. Somehow my day was perfectly planned out so that I could go 12 hours every day between each meal. I honestly don’t know how that happened since my life seems to hectic now. But the point is I have absolutely no idea how I did that. I have no idea how I went 12 hours between meals because I get hungry every 2-3 hours now and if I don’t eat I get into trouble energy wise after 4-5 hours between meals. On Friday I thought I was going to die. I have no idea how I made it through high school like that because I could not focus on anything. Oh wait, yes I do. I could have slept through high school but that’s not the point. The only thing I remember from that class is that I have a quiz on Tuesday and that’s only because I already knew that. Anything before 2pm last Friday I don’t remember. I don’t even know if I was there. Granted I had gone maybe close to 20 hours without eating since the last meal I’d eaten was dinner the day before, but I expect the just 12 hours between meals would do the same thing to me now that it did on Friday.
Eating is important. I don’t know how I lived before. Well, in all honesty I wasn’t living before. I was dying slowly and thinking I was living. I love food. I will say that. I eat chocolate pretty much every day. I’m not depriving myself anymore and I have energy. It’s funny to realize that now because it happened so gradually in recovery that I didn’t notice it. I realize now that even though most times in a day I feel like I’m just fat and horrible I at least am alive and can function properly. I didn’t notice before how poorly I was doing, but just after Friday morning and thinking I did that every day for years I don’t even know what to say to that. I don’t know how I did that but I am so glad I’m not doing that anymore.
So the next time you think you don’t want to eat think about what would be better: living life in a daze or seeing the world in color.