This part 2 of 3 dives deeper into the eating disorder, specifically going into detail of just how daunting of a task recovery actually is. If you’re sensitive to this kind of thing, be careful reading this part of the story.
* * *
The road to recovery was a bit shakier than I was expecting. It's weird how you can sit in the moment of feeling motivated to make a change for the better in your life, but once you actually step up to it you start to realize how real it actually is.Just yesterday I felt that burning in my chest that I wanted to do this for myself, for that little girl who was bullied by some dumb kids, for the younger me who went too far in trying to impress people. The motivation for it started a burning flame in my chest but now it feels like that fire is actively being extinguished by all the questions and thoughts swirling around my head. Is this what I really want? What if I don't like the food I'm going to eat? What if it makes me sick? But what if I like it? What if I like it too much, would I be able to stop myself from eating more?
I clamped my eyes shut, trying to silence those thoughts. They're overwhelming and making me start to doubt myself, but I had to push back on them because I knew what I was capable of. I had to believe I could push through this as well. And that includes the food I was making for myself.
It was around 12:30 in the afternoon and I realized I hadn't eaten anything earlier. Not that I normally did. But I knew I had to try setting a schedule for when to eat. I'd originally planned to start at 12 but my fear put it off a bit.
I figured that where I should start, if anything, was one of my favorite foods. At least that's what I read somewhere online. The one thing I tried avoiding was grapes. I remember hearing someone say how much sugar was in them and that was enough for me to cut them out of my diet. But I picked off several of the purple grapes from their stems as they plopped on the white ceramic plate beneath. It felt like time was moving in slow motion, like the grapes falling looked incredibly daunting. I could feel a pit forming in my stomach as I continued to pick off more and more from the stem.
Before I realized it, the stem was bare and the plate had possibly a dozen, if not more grapes on it. Could I really eat all of this? I had to. If there's any time to start, it has to be now. And so I reached down, picked up a grape, and brought it to my mouth. I took a deep breath and bit into it. It wasn't a big bite, just enough for me to taste it.
I could taste the juice, the sour yet sweet taste that I missed tasting so much. Plus the added chill from them sitting in the fridge overnight made it taste even more magical somehow. It tasted better than I thought it would, so I took another bite. Then another until the entire first grape was gone. Then I moved to the next. Bit it in half, enjoyed the taste of it, then ate the other half. I almost wanted to cry from how much I missed it. It tasted like childhood, when my parents would take me to the park over the summer, carrying along some grapes, oranges, and some other things to snack on. They reminded me of a time when I was happy. A time I wished I could be a part of again.
It wasn't until I had maybe 3 grapes left on my plate where I hesitated to take another bite. I was enjoying them but I grew afraid that I liked them too much and wouldn't know when to stop. I feared getting up and heading to the fridge for more. Did I want more because I was still hungry, or did I just not care and want to keep eating? What if I didn't stop eating them? I've ingested so much sugar already, surely my body would hate me for eating more. I had to stop.
But then I looked down at the plate. I can't stop. It's only 3 more grapes. That's all. Just 3 and I'm done for now. Just eat those last 3 and that's it until my next meal. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and grabbed a grape. Ate it whole. It tasted so good. Then I ate another. I took another deep breath, and popped the last one in my mouth. I savored the taste of it as I chewed slowly before swallowing it down, the taste still lingering in my mouth.
I took a deep breath and glanced down at my empty plate. I did it. The biggest meal I've had probably all year and I ate it all. A part of me wanted to feel guilty about indulging but I think I felt more proud of myself than anything. I could feel a tear or two welling in my eye with a weak smile spreading across my lips. I did it.
And so, I took a stood from my seat, grabbed my plate, and washed it off in the sink, feeling accomplished as I did so.
* * *
It's been 3 days since I started my recovery and I won't lie, it's been hard. There were a few meals where I struggled with the idea of weight gain, or even felt uneasy with food sitting in my stomach. It felt almost unnatural for me to be focusing so much on food. Not really in a way of figuring out the fewest things I could eat that were still somewhat nutritional, but more having to understand that I need things like meat and veggies and bread and fruits and sugary things in my diet. I tried to make sure I was eating three meals a day while making room for a snack.
But after 3 days, I've been starting to feel a bit more confident in my ability to feed myself properly without feeling bad about it. And today was a new step in the right direction.
Earlier today I told my mom and dad that I was trying to eat more and try to eat some of the things that scared me. I told them about trying to recover and about that little girl I was doing this for. I even planned to make a video in a few days, letting people know about my lifestyle change. I wanted it to be a piece of hope for other people that suffered through making themselves sick like I did. I also wanted to make the videos for the same reason I told my parents, I wanted to feel like these people were holding me accountable, to keep up with my goals, to keep fighting no matter how hard it gets.
As of right now, I'm sitting in front of a plate of spaghetti my mom had made for me. It smelled like childhood. It took me back to a time where I didn't have to think about food, but the world happening around me. As they sat around me with their own plates, I could feel their eyes on me, watching with anticipation to see if I had what it takes to actually take a bite of it.
Sure, it smelled incredible, but the sight of it made me feel almost sick. I saw the noodles covered in that red sauce with chunks of meat blended in. All I could see were the calories, the insane amount of sugar, salt, and no telling what eating the red meat would do to me. I wished so badly that I could push it out of my head, and I tried to. It's really difficult when you've made it so many years learning how bad different food is for you, you get addicted to the calculations of calories and sugar intake, you become almost comfortable with rejecting food even when you're starving. And right now I really wanted to reject eating it, to just sit around and smell it and watch my mom and dad eat it instead. It's just one meal after all. There could be more that they make for me to eat that's a bit less intimidating.
I started reaching for the plate to push it away but then I saw the look on their faces. They were so eager for me to take a bite, just one. They wanted to see me push myself, despite how intimidated and horrified I was. I took a deep breath. And instead of pushing the plate away I grabbed the fork. I jammed it in the center and fished out a single noodle strand. It didn't have much sauce on it, so it didn't look as bad, but it was still intimidating nonetheless. I raised it to my lips and put a part of the noodle in. I felt almost immediately repulsed. I wanted to spit it out, to get up and scrub the taste of it from my tongue, but my parents were watching. I couldn't let them down. I had to fight through this. I bravely slurped up the noodle and swallowed it without tasting it at all.
My parents looked so over-joyed. Surely they knew how hard I had to fight myself, just for that tiny bite. A bite that they could scarf down themselves without a single hesitation.
I looked down at my plate. The mess of spaghetti looked like it had barely been touched. I felt like I had barely chiseled away at the mountain that stood before me.
I took a deep breath, readying myself for another bite. That's when I felt my legs lift themselves from my seat and my mouth excusing me from the table. What the hell was happening?!
My heart was pounding against my chest as I fought hard to stop my body from moving on its own. I tried to force my feet still, to grab onto the wall to stop myself, to do anything I could just to stop moving but I was helpless.
Finally, I found myself entering the bathroom, shutting the door behind me with a bit heavier of a hand than I was used to. My face jerked in front of the mirror until I was staring at myself. I saw my mouth twisted into demented grin that wasn't my own.
"Was my warning the other night not enough, you stupid girl?" my own voice hissed at me. "I thought I told you to stop trying to fatten yourself up!"
"But I-" I struggled against my own body to get my words out.
"But nothing!" my voice shot back. "You're meant to be this way! You're supposed to stay sick! It's comfortable because it's the way everyone is supposed to live, they just don't know it yet! They're too lazy to be cautious about the food you eat, but we're smart! We're the healthy ones, not them!"
"But that's not true!" I choked out. "We're supposed to love our bodies!"
"THEN WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!" It forced me to yell so hard my chest ached. "I'm here to keep you safe and you want to tear me to shreds! I'm a part of you! How can you claim to love yourself when all you're doing it tearing yourself apart? And all for what, putting on a few pounds? Because a video from some girl made you feel sad?."
It let out a sigh. "I'm only trying to protect you, you know that right? Your parents out there, they're pressuring you into something we both aren't comfortable with. They're making you torture yourself to eat that slop. Just don't eat it. Make an excuse. Tell them you feel unwell and everything will be fine."
It was hard to fight back against this thing taking control of me when everything it says sounds so convincing. I do have every right not say no. The food is making me uncomfortable to try and get down. Should I give up?
But after 3 days, I've been starting to feel a bit more confident in my ability to feed myself properly without feeling bad about it. And today was a new step in the right direction.
Earlier today I told my mom and dad that I was trying to eat more and try to eat some of the things that scared me. I told them about trying to recover and about that little girl I was doing this for. I even planned to make a video in a few days, letting people know about my lifestyle change. I wanted it to be a piece of hope for other people that suffered through making themselves sick like I did. I also wanted to make the videos for the same reason I told my parents, I wanted to feel like these people were holding me accountable, to keep up with my goals, to keep fighting no matter how hard it gets.
As of right now, I'm sitting in front of a plate of spaghetti my mom had made for me. It smelled like childhood. It took me back to a time where I didn't have to think about food, but the world happening around me. As they sat around me with their own plates, I could feel their eyes on me, watching with anticipation to see if I had what it takes to actually take a bite of it.
Sure, it smelled incredible, but the sight of it made me feel almost sick. I saw the noodles covered in that red sauce with chunks of meat blended in. All I could see were the calories, the insane amount of sugar, salt, and no telling what eating the red meat would do to me. I wished so badly that I could push it out of my head, and I tried to. It's really difficult when you've made it so many years learning how bad different food is for you, you get addicted to the calculations of calories and sugar intake, you become almost comfortable with rejecting food even when you're starving. And right now I really wanted to reject eating it, to just sit around and smell it and watch my mom and dad eat it instead. It's just one meal after all. There could be more that they make for me to eat that's a bit less intimidating.
I started reaching for the plate to push it away but then I saw the look on their faces. They were so eager for me to take a bite, just one. They wanted to see me push myself, despite how intimidated and horrified I was. I took a deep breath. And instead of pushing the plate away I grabbed the fork. I jammed it in the center and fished out a single noodle strand. It didn't have much sauce on it, so it didn't look as bad, but it was still intimidating nonetheless. I raised it to my lips and put a part of the noodle in. I felt almost immediately repulsed. I wanted to spit it out, to get up and scrub the taste of it from my tongue, but my parents were watching. I couldn't let them down. I had to fight through this. I bravely slurped up the noodle and swallowed it without tasting it at all.
My parents looked so over-joyed. Surely they knew how hard I had to fight myself, just for that tiny bite. A bite that they could scarf down themselves without a single hesitation.
I looked down at my plate. The mess of spaghetti looked like it had barely been touched. I felt like I had barely chiseled away at the mountain that stood before me.
I took a deep breath, readying myself for another bite. That's when I felt my legs lift themselves from my seat and my mouth excusing me from the table. What the hell was happening?!
My heart was pounding against my chest as I fought hard to stop my body from moving on its own. I tried to force my feet still, to grab onto the wall to stop myself, to do anything I could just to stop moving but I was helpless.
Finally, I found myself entering the bathroom, shutting the door behind me with a bit heavier of a hand than I was used to. My face jerked in front of the mirror until I was staring at myself. I saw my mouth twisted into demented grin that wasn't my own.
"Was my warning the other night not enough, you stupid girl?" my own voice hissed at me. "I thought I told you to stop trying to fatten yourself up!"
"But I-" I struggled against my own body to get my words out.
"But nothing!" my voice shot back. "You're meant to be this way! You're supposed to stay sick! It's comfortable because it's the way everyone is supposed to live, they just don't know it yet! They're too lazy to be cautious about the food you eat, but we're smart! We're the healthy ones, not them!"
"But that's not true!" I choked out. "We're supposed to love our bodies!"
"THEN WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!" It forced me to yell so hard my chest ached. "I'm here to keep you safe and you want to tear me to shreds! I'm a part of you! How can you claim to love yourself when all you're doing it tearing yourself apart? And all for what, putting on a few pounds? Because a video from some girl made you feel sad?."
It let out a sigh. "I'm only trying to protect you, you know that right? Your parents out there, they're pressuring you into something we both aren't comfortable with. They're making you torture yourself to eat that slop. Just don't eat it. Make an excuse. Tell them you feel unwell and everything will be fine."
It was hard to fight back against this thing taking control of me when everything it says sounds so convincing. I do have every right not say no. The food is making me uncomfortable to try and get down. Should I give up?
TO BE CONTINUED...
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