Two Week-A-Versary

Today is Tuesday and it is the 14th day that I've been in treatment. It's weird because it has gone by so fast but I feel like I've been here forever and a day. It's going pretty well. This past weekend from like Friday through Sunday were the "worst" days that I've had so far. And when I say "worst," I mean that in terms of in comparison to the other days that I've been here, they haven't been as great. but they weren't terrible...just not as good. On Friday I decided to print out a picture of myself from last year when I was weight restored. I wanted to try and look at it and accept myself, as well as write down whatever emotions came up or how I felt. Well, it was a good exercise in terms of bringing up emotions because I felt muy scared. I am TERRIFIED of going back to that, so it was good to look at it and deal with the emotions that came up because I'm more than likely going to back to looking like that soon. I know that I didn't look bad and that I was healthy, but that doesn't make up for the fear of gaining weight, or going back to that appearance, that I'm currently battling. I just associate the way that I looked with a great deal of self-hate and sadness. When I first got to that weight/appearance, I was fine. I was totally happy and gung-ho about recovery. However, it proved that "all good things come to an end" was the case in my situation as I eventually realized what I looked like, I (or, at least, my eating disorder) didn't like it, and I hated myself. I couldn't walk pat a mirror without balling my eyes out. I saw myself as the fat, overweight, lonely, attention-seeking little girl that I once was and I freaked...hence the relapse that landed me where I am now. #swag. I'm learning that I place so much importance in my weight because of the feelings that I experienced when I was a higher weight. I never got the attention of boys, the same kind of attention that other girls got, I felt like the only thing I was really good at was being the "funny fat girl." I've realized that the eating disorder gives me the attention and nurturing from my parents that I feel as though I missed out on as a kid because they were either working or helping my dependent brother (note to parents: this isn't about condemnation, it's about how I feel). I've realized that the eating disorder is my means of coping with stress and anxiety. I've realized that my eating disorder provides safety: in my eating disorder, I don't have to deal with the hassle and stress of "normal life." I can starve my way into a mini-vacation where I don't have to make decisions or do work, in the form of a treatment center. So while the eating disorder really sucks and ruins my life, it provides something for me that I have a hard time getting outside of it. I have no complaints as far as treatment goes, except there are only like 2 groups a day and they aren't mandatory, and there is wayyyyy too much free time. I've seen/heard at least two incidents of people trying to run away (a.k.a. "elopement"). I've realized all treatment centers smell the same and that scent is fart because everyone's digestive system is whacked out. The food here isn't as good as when I went to Rosewood, but I've had some tasty meals. We go on outings every weekend, and this past weekend we went bowling (which was fun for bowling). I pooped at the bowling alley and it was exciting not to have someone check the toilet before I flushed (which we have to do whenever we go to the bathroom here). We have "fresh air" breaks where smokers can go upstairs to smoke, or you can go downstairs to get some fresh air, or you can just stay inside. The past couple of days have been sunny and in the 70's; I actually got hot yesterday which was a refreshing change of pace. A couple of people and I meet every morning after breakfast to read the day's passage of "Jesus Calling" and pray, and then we meet on Saturday mornings to have a Bible study over the book of Exodus. It's a good group because it's the only spiritual aspect of the facility besides going to mass on Sundays which is...mass-y. More than that, though, it's a good reminder of God's presence. I believe is and I feel God with me in this process. I pray that He won't make me "fat", but I ultimately want His will no matter what. It's hard for me to accept and it's hard for me to think about, but I believe that God will use me and love me no matter what size I am. I just really, really, REALLY hope it's not huge...