Hi again world of readers and blog writers,
So many entries in such a short time after a prolonged silence… Well, this week I have realized my constant consumption of news and the ease at which I get emotionally exhausted from the noise is not healthy on so many levels. Writing has always been therapeutic, and although I do journal, there is a strength I receive from at least authentically writing and if someone finds it of use, then it was for naught. I learn so much from reading what bloggers have to say, because there is an honesty that comes from being behind a keyboard. Some may say blogging is just another way for me to hear myself yammer, so feel free to pick one reason over another. 🙂
The thought of writing a letter to my eating disorder crossed my mind today, because let me tel you, we have a sorted past. I always say with each relapse I move a bit further on the recovery continuum; however, I have realized this rationalization can only go so far.
On one level it deeply saddens me to realize for 2 decades + of my life I have been acquainted with disordered eating. For the first time though this scares me. For the first time I fear anorexia. The first wtf moment, where I was like, self, you really believe you are so impervious to the effects of starvation? Who do you think you are? Jesus being tempted by the devil in the desert? Uh, of course not. I am a human who needs food to live, to maintain some sort of homeostasis if I want to keep the blessings I have in my life. My living space, my work, my friends… I can’t purposefully hasten my death by not eating.
I have never been at this place where I know my body is a bit medically precarious. For the first time I believe the wisdom in treat yourself as you treat others. I would never encourage another to starve themselves, so I deserve to extend the same care to my body.
Anorexia sure has scrambled my brain, but consistent therapy and the daily Examen is teaching me it’s now or never I care for myself.
So this is a reminder to recovery on those difficult eating disorder days.
The next time you make something you enjoy the taste of, this is your body saying thank you for taking care of me.
Physical food is essential to continuing to nourish my soul with spiritual food.
If I believe we are all made in the image of God, then this makes me no different.
You may not succeed every day or even with each meal, but hold onto the feeling of when you do feed yourself, because self-care is not a race.
Although I scoffed at the adage, especially in treatment, they were not lying when I was told food is medicine, it will help you live.
Until next time,