I'm more than a number

Recently I went shopping for the second time since being in recovery.  My wonderful husband came with me, but even with his support I struggled a lot.  

Before I went into recovery I was at a normal weight and I was always terrified (still am terrified) of gaining weight because if I'm already at a normal weight I shouldn't gain weight, right?  

Wrong.  

I can't say whether anyone in recovery will gain weight or not, it really depends on each individual.  My body is figuring out where it needs to be.  Unfortunately where my body needs to be is very different from where I want my body to be.  There are certain clothing that don't fit anymore and a part of me feels like a huge failure.

It wasn't until this last shopping trip that I realized how sick I really was.  I'm not going to use numbers because I don't want to trigger anyone so I'll use letters.  For a long time I was size X, but after trying on clothes I'm now size Z and it's totally messing with my head.  BUT!  I have to put it into perspective that naturally my body is size Z and I went to extreme measures for years to make sure I was a size X.

I seriously cried after shopping because I felt so disgusting.  I felt like I let myself go, that everyone can tell I've gained weight and that everyone is judging me for it.  This week was really tough, but the more distance I had from my nightmare shopping experience the more I could detach myself from the nightmare.  

I now can appreciate my new clothes because they're comfortable and they look good.  I even got a compliment when I wore my new dress pants.  Even though I shouldn't worry what others think it did prove something to me: nobody is keeping track of my weight or my clothing size.  My coworker didn't say anything about the size of my pants or ask me how much I weigh, she simply gave me a compliment of her own freewill.

I still need to add to my wardrobe, but I'm not as scared to go shopping because I'm more than a number.

Time heals all wounds...or does it?

We've all come to know certain sayings like, "time heals all wounds."  I'm sure I've even said this to people in the past, but I couldn't disagree more with that statement.

I'm encompassing all wounds together, whether they be physical, mental, or emotional.  For example, I'm still feeling the effects of a car accident that happened last year in August.  I don't usually talk about it, I see it as something I have to live with, but the fact is my body is never going to be the same.  Time and some effort on my part (like PT) may ease some of the physical pain I feel on a daily basis, but my neck and back are compromised and weaker than before the accident.  I broke my leg when I was eight and although I don't feel pain from this injury, it still affects me.  People point out at various times that my right foot angles inward when I walk.  Yes, thank you for noticing, that is because I broke my leg.  The bone may have mended, but my leg isn't the same.

This is the same for the mental and emotional pain we feel.  Time doesn't heal those wounds, it may create some distance and a barrier so the pain doesn't feel as raw, but it's still there underneath the scars.  

I will always have an eating disorder.  I'm not trying to be negative or say recovery doesn't work.  Recovery does work.  It works to help me cope differently and in a healthier way when life is stressful.  Even though I've had moments of feeling okay and maybe (dare I say) good about my body, ED is still there arguing with me.  There are days I'm strong and I laugh him away, but there are days that he breaks my spirit and I just want to stay under the covers and never come out again.  Even though I haven't purged in months doesn't mean I don't think about doing it, especially more recently with the holidays.  

What if I throw up just this once?  

We already know where that will lead.  It's never just once.  In my recovery I've learned that if there is a scale out in the open, I'm going to step on it.  It's this immediate knee jerk reaction.  Scale equals "hop on and feel like crap, it's your lucky day of self loathing."  I have weighed myself recently because the scale was there and we were visiting relatives in Michigan for Thanksgiving and I ate food on a holiday.  A great sin indeed...  And guess what?  I hate the number, what a surprise.  I will always hate the number.  Even at my lowest weight I hated the number, it was never good enough.  

BUT there is hope.  Even though time won't erase ED from my existence, it does give me the space and distance I need to put things into perspective.  Even though I hated the number I was able to have a coherent, logical and rational discussion with myself.  Last year I wouldn't have been able to do that.  It would have meant restricting and purging and chewing lots of gum and drinking water like it's going out of style and saying things like, "No thanks, I just ate."

Time may not heal wounds, but it does keep us moving forward and maybe give us a little hope that tomorrow will be better.