Second Edge of the Sword

I am pleased to report that I feel the best physically that I've felt in a long time. My medical health has evened out nicely; I've almost gotten to a "normal" state. My muscles have received a much-deserved break, and for the first time in months I don't have pain and fatigue in every part of my body. My mind is humming with clear, concise, consciousness, and I'm getting plenty of sleep. I've got energy, humour and excitement. I even started a new book (The Island, by Huxley!!). Being in treatment exposes you to emotions and fears that you never expected or knew that you had. One might imagine that this reinvigorated body encourages purely positivist thinking, but it's actually brought a whole slew of unexpected emotions. Foremost, the eating disorder caused me to recognize symptoms of malnutrition as being "hunger signals." The dizziness and fatigue that I've experienced over the last year were the way that I gauged my hunger, and I would put off eating until I felt near starvation. Now, I don't ever feel that hungry, and because of some digestion issues, I usually feel stuffed. When I first entered treatment I was excited about choosing foods that had formerly been off-limits and now I catch myself digressing to the "healthiest option." This is ridiculous; my dietitian portions and measures my meals to be the proper mix of carbs/fats/proteins, and our bodies are non-discerning in the breakdown of nutrients. Still, in the gulf between logic and my emotions lies good ol' ED. In opposition to my gratitude for health is also the urge to exercise. For the first time in a year my muscles don't quiver from fatigue, my mind doesn't buzz with exhaustion, and my body feels ready for the day. More than ready; I've got so much energy that my psychiatrist wondered if I was manic! (This was quickly refuted, although I am willing to bet many of you beg to differ). Not being able to release this energy through exercise makes me agitated, often to the point where I can't even begin to try to redirect my energy. It's times like these when thoughts like, "I don't need treatment" taunt my recovery. And it's getting through times like these that prove I can recover. Finally, feeling this healthy makes me nervous for the future. Feeling good means that I'm getting better. Getting better means that I'm moving through recovery. Being recovered means I'm going to re-enter the "real world," where words like networking, income, grad school, and restaurants, and free time are again applicable. Who would have thought that in such a short period of time I've already attached like a barnacle to the safety of this ship, a bouy in the ocean I made for myself. I loathe the dichotomy between wanting so badly to get better and being afraid of returning to my life. Talking to my treatment team has really helped me to navigate these feelings. They've equipped me with a couple sayings and ideas that help me remember why I'm here. The first is, "Look at the forest, not the trees." If the forest is my goals in recovery (my future plans, the desire to live a more fulfilling life, control over my exercise) then little bumps in the road are the trees. The trees deserve attention; they are the day-to-day matters, positive or negative, the compromise the forest. On the other hand, they are only a small piece. For instance, my therapist has challenged me not to stretch in the morning. Fighting this urge feels like pulling teeth. But if I see it as merely a tree in the forest of my proving myself capable of overcoming my urges, then I more readily garner the willingness to overcome it. Another saying is, "What's comfortable is not always what's good." I'm sure all of you can internalize that message. How many times have you taken the easy way out rather than more effectively, creatively or productively challenging yourself? I have become comfortable in my eating disorder and this has caused me to lose so much of the good in my life. So I choose not to be comfortable so that I can reach genuine good. I'd like to note the fact that I started this post at the beginning of the day, when I was still bitter about eating. By now, at the end of the day, I am proud to report that I really did feel hungry at my meal-times, even with an increase in calories during my snack time. I listened to my body and it requested food. The miracle is not that I was hungry; it's that the body functions, and now I feel it! A little faith goes a long way.