Random(ish) ED/recovery update....?
I've been doing pretty well with the whole eating disorder recovery thing. I finally reached a point where I eat what I want when I want, don't over-exercise (or exercise at all, to be honest.......), and occasionally spend a Saturday eating a feckton of junk food with my friend C and don't feel bad about it afterwards.
One day we're going to have a reality show, and it will be glorious.
I haven't weighed myself since November, 2011. I haven't taken laxatives or ephedrine or any other starve/purge aids since about the same time. I don't feel a crushing sense of horror and doom every time I look in the mirror.
And the biggest victory BY FAR: I do not spend every single waking moment thinking about calories and how many I've had and how many I'm allowed to have and how many I might have later and how I'm fat fat fat; and I have to say it really feels amazing to have my brain back.
[Yes, there is a "but" coming.]
I knew moving out of Mumsy's house would be a major adjustment, particularly in the area of budgeting my expenses. And I suck at that. But I've gone over the numbers repeatedly (in Excel, because I totally suck at math and Excel does the math for me) and based on what I make at my job, I can afford to pay all my monthly expenses (rent, electricity, car insurance, loan, petrol, cat food, getting my hair bleached, Netflix), with roughly $200.00 a week leftover for extra things.
But because of all the bloody issues with the license/insurance/etc (among a couple other things, like my bank and Experian stealing my money) on top of all the expenses involved in the actual move, a massive dent has been put into my bank account. I cannot afford ANYTHING but the basics.
The main essentials, on a day-to-day basis, are cat food, petrol, and my food. Unfortunately, over the last month or so, they have been prioritized in that order.
I need petrol to get to work (it's an hour each way, so even with a car that is awesome on petrol, that's still quite a bit of money every week). The cats need to eat, and I love them like they're my babies. I absolutely will not underfeed them.
And so the money left over for me to buy food for myself is not very much money at all.
This both frightened me and didn't frighten me, at first. I can deal with this, I thought. Because of the eating disorder, I know I can keep going (physically) on much much less food than a normal person. I can eat just enough to stay conscious, keep the cats fed, and keep my car fueled until I can get back on my feet, money-wise. Also I'm not exercising anymore (I cancelled the gym membership entirely), so it's not like I'm overexerting myself. This will be totally fine.
It started out fine. I wan't thinking about weight loss--that never even crossed my mind. I mean yeah, I figured I'd probably lose some weight, but I didn't really care one way or the other.
Until about a week and a half ago, when I was watching TV in bed (and probably frightening my neighbours because Tim Hawkins is seriously frigging HYSTERICAL), and I happened to notice how much my hipbones stick out when I'm laying down.
I couldn't resist the curiosity--I got up and did something I have not done in over a year.
I ran my hand down my back/side to check my ribs.
But then I stopped and said NO IT'S EVIL, DON'T TOUCH IT and tried to put it out of my head.
Between then and now, two friends and Lil Sis made comments that I have lost weight. And a little dust-mote-sized demon crawled into my brain and laughed gleefully at this information.
Cutting down on my groceries suddenly got easier.
And then Monday I was texting back and forth with Stepmom and she said how great I looked in my David Bowie inspired outfit for 70's day at church on Sunday
|me and the Bros, are we a f**king gorgeous family or what|
I was complaining how I hate wearing pants (seriously I think every single person in church that day was like HOLY CRAP, ARE THOSE PANTS!?!??) because I still have some issues as far as hiding things like my
and then Stepmom goes, "oh don't worry you look great curvy, and you'll get a chance to slim down once you start going to the gym again."
In fairness, Stepmom is the skinniest person I know and I'm pretty sure she's one of those women who thinks that barely eating anything ever and working out 10+ times a week is totally healthy, so her perception of "curvy" may be slightly off.
This has been a giant mess of brain feckery: am I losing a lot of weight? Then how freaking fat was I before I moved?? How fat am I now?!?!?
As I said in the beginning, I was doing pretty well with recovery, but not perfect. My biggest remaining issue is probably the mirror.
I have NO IDEA what I look like. I look in the mirror, and most of the time I still see a whale, so I mostly avoid full-length mirrors.
.....and literally at the end of the day today, one of our clients walked in and said, "JESUS CHRIST you got so skinny!!!" with a semi-concerned look on her face.
SERIOUSLY HOW EFFING FAT WAS I BEFORE THIS?!?!
I don't know what to do. I am definitely not anywhere near as crazy/disordered as before, and I am thankfully NOT slipping back into that awful depressive state that took over my life for the last year, but I DO know that this could be a problem. I don't want two years of working towards recovery to be for nothing. I CANNOT GO BACK DOWN THAT ROAD.
Advice? Thoughts? I fired my shrink because I'm poor, so I'll accept any thoughts or suggestions y'all got.