I realize now that I was mad at my mom for lying to the doctors so I wouldn’t get hospitalized not only because that is a shit thing to do when your daughter’s life could be in danger, but also because I wanted to be hospitalized. The sane part and the ED part of me wanted that “validation” that would come from being hospitalized, but also, it would be easier than trying to recover on my own. I wouldn’t have a choice if I was hospitalized. I’d be force fed one way or another, and considering everyone seems to think that once you gain back the weight you’re cured, I would have been able to “stop” recovery a lot sooner, because regaining the weight myself was a painful struggle that took years.
But that was back then. There is no guarantee that if I was hospitalized I’d be at this place now, or if I’d be worse off.
I realized something a few nights ago. Between writing and mentally re-living my disordered days, and the weight loss journey I am currently undertaking, nothing seems to be triggering me. It is sad to read and write about my past. I am happy with the movement of the scale.
All those things used to be huge triggers for me. I couldn’t write about my recovery until now without suffering some degree of a relapse. I couldn’t try to lose weight without going back to obsessing over not going over 800 calories a day maximum. Now I check myfitnesspal at night, see I still have 600 calories to eat, and have a second dinner.
And I have lost weight. I’ve lost about a pound a week since the start of 2015 and to be honest, I don’t really like it. I am happy with the muscle definition I am getting from lifting 15-20 reps for 4 sets, and I’ve really enjoyed running, but I have to admit that I didn’t look that bad before I started losing weight.
What?? I liked how I looked at my highest weight ever over getting back down??
Yes, it’s insane, but it’s true. I can hardly believe it myself.
I really need to take some more current progress pictures because all I have now are ones from December.
I’m still kind of in shock about how far I have come. Now I can exercise without people worrying about whether or not I will die because of it. I run out of things to eat I eat so much now. My eating disorder truly is a thing of the past now, and I couldn’t be happier.