Holding On.

. . . there are days where I feel like I can not take it any more. Where I just want to say to those around me, "It hurts so badly within me and I do not know what to do." Because that is the truth. It does hurt. Being alive is hard work. 

Despite this pain, I hold on. To the recovery process. To life. To hope. 

I have not eaten very well lately. I have lied about what I have eaten to those who love me.

It is starting to feel very, very much like a relapse. I scares me. A year ago I was doing so well in recovery. Gaining weight and life. Looking forward to the future. Then, gradually, anorexia increased its control once again. Will I ever recover? 

A part of me refuses to give up. I have moved forward before and I can do it again. To take responsibility I contacted a nutrionist and explained my situation. She has worked wih people who battles an eating disorder for 15 years and seemed like a warm and wise human being. I am scared of seeing her, but I am also scared of anorexia.

. . . guess I am choosing recovery. Again.

Sliten.

" At times I am so tired I just want to break down and cry, but I know this is the journey I must travel."

I dag har vært en slitsom dag. Det blir ofte slitsomt når jeg ødelegger meg selv. Spiser for lite. Rører for mye på meg. Adlyder anoreksiens minste vink. Hva gjør jeg? Hva ønsker jeg?

En del av meg ønsker å bli sykere. Falle, falle, falle. Ned i det "trygge" anorektiske mørke der jeg ikke må konfrontere alle livets utfordringer. Der jeg kan kjenne kontroll. Makt. Trygghet. 

Men, hva er verdien i en kontroll som sakte, men sikkert ødelegger en? Hva er sterkt og mektig ved å skade sin egen kropp? Hva er vel trygt i å holde fast ved en sykdom som truer livet mitt?

Disse tankene er ikke alene. De møter motstand fra friske tanker. Drømmer og håp. Et ønske om å leve et liv i frihet fra anoreksi. Et ønske om å kjenne meg fylt med liv. Ikke denne utmattelsen som på nåværende tidspunkt preger dagene.

For et kaos. Indre kaos. Mørket mot lyset. Døden mot livet. Kjennes ut som krefter som river og sliter i meg. Som en mental og følelsesmessig storm. Jeg vet ikke hvor jeg vil. Eller hva jeg vil. Jeg vet ikke. 

Det er en kamp. Det er en prosess. Å bli frisk er ikke noe som skjer uten videre. Det tar tid, tårer og støtte. 

Dette er veien jeg må gå. Jeg puster fremdeles. Og der det er liv, er det håp.

Struggles and victories.

The dinner is eaten. Contrary to what ED told me it tasted good. It tasted freedom. I need to remember the joy and strength I feel when I say NO to anorexia. Usually I hide from challenges, telling myself I will do it when it feels "right".

Well, what if it will never feel "right"?

Maybe there is no such thing as a "perfect moment". All there is is opportunity upon opportunity for growth. Every single moment is an opportunity to choose recovery. No matter how painful and wrong it might feel. 

* * * 

While the burger was a great step in the right direction, there are still so many challenges to work through and I am trying not to get overwhelmed by the thought of it all. A huge challenge for me is comparison. I compare my food and activity levels with my mum, a destructive tendency that only leaves me feeling guilty and upset. Truth be told, I am sitting here right now and plan what my mum will eat tomorrow. Then what I am allowed to eat based on her intake. It is sick. It is holding me down. I want to change this. I do not want to obsess about how many calories she consume. Or how many minutes she stand or walk each day. I want to be able to focus on, trust and honor my own needs. Without judgement or comparison.

. . . it is a process.

Never give up. Continue to wake up. Get out of bed. Continue to try. Try, try, try. They say recovery is possible.

Courage is a burger.

Today courage is ordering (and eating!) burger and fries. Today courage is to be vulnerable and admit that I am scared. Today courage is to finally open up and be honest about the pain within.

This is my journey to recovery from anorexia.