I'm back from Texas ya'll!
|Maiya and me in our room!|
etc. etc. etc.
My week in Texas looked something like this:
|Welcome to Hangover City! Population: 1|
Needless to say, when I got home, I flipped out a little bit. I am still IN recovery, not RECOVERED, so I am allowed to freak out. I'm only a human after all. Immediately, the eating disorder thoughts come a-rushin' back. Convinced I have gained at least 20 pounds, (can't be sure because I was ordered to throw out my scale), I sit and bawl like a child who just got crapped on in the ball pit at McDonalds.
The next morning, I rub my eyes, and see my tattoo. Now, I've had that tattoo for almost two years now, I look at it every day. But this particular morning, I looked at it and remembered why I got it.
The symbols mean 'Unconditional Love for yourself" in Hebrew. I got it two years ago when I tried (unsuccessfully) to recover...again. To remind myself that I deserve love, no matter what. No matter my weight, if my face is broken out, if I made a mistake, if I lied, if I pigged out, SO WHAT. This is the only body I have. That morning I knew I was at a pivotal moment in my recovery journey. I was either going to push through all the discomfort, all the awful thoughts, and be healthy, OR I was going to starve myself that day and probably the rest of the week, only drinking lemon water.
As of today (three days later), I have opted to push through and continue to recover. There are just so many things that I want to do that I can't with my eating disorder. I am proud of myself.
This isn't very much of an advisory post, I know. But my best friend in the entire world left today for Spain for 6 months and I am emotionally distraught and really should probably be writing about emotional eating. ANYWAYS I will touch a little more on the scale/weighing yourself thing. It always was astounding to me (and I know EVERYONE can relate to this) how I could wake up, look in the mirror, and think I look so skinny so I decide to weigh myself, step on the scale, and it reads higher than normal. WHAT. All of a sudden, I step off the scale, look in the mirror, and suddenly, I am fat. BOOM. I gained weight in 2.7 seconds. Astounding. I should be in the Guinness Book of World Records. And now, my whole day is obviously ruined.
One of the most important, beautiful, freeing, days of my life so far is the day I decided I will no longer weigh myself. This was a process. As my therapist loves to say, I was "married" to my scale. And it was a messy, slow, emotional, divorce. You know what thought? I have never EVER been happier. Sure, I get weird looks when I go to the doctor and ask to please be weighed backwards (and for the love of God please do not announce my weight), but so what? When you think about it, letting a stupid number dictate your life is absurd! After all, you are probably the ONLY person who is ever going to see it.
The scale will NOT tell you the following:
-What a great person you are
-How much your family and friends love you
-That you can make a stranger melt with your beautiful smile
-You are special
Words of wisdom from my therapist: "When you go to weigh yourself, you're really never going to be happy. If it's higher than you think, you will let it ruin your day. If it's the same as normal, you will be upset it's not lower, and you will let it ruin your day. If it's lower than normal, you will want it to be even lower, and you will let it ruin your day."
Have a good day, don't weigh yourself. Love yourself. Love your body. Wether you like it or not, it's the only one you will ever have.
You, yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.