Heavyng Myself Forward

Peace. Reaching a state whereby there is no longer any conflict is a somewhat idealistic notion due to the odds of there consistently being mutual agreements between each individual being classified statistically impossible. However, setting the bar for a lower standard of serenity can be achievable if not equally as satisfying. I am of course referring to the luxury of peace of mind. We all aspire to remain at a level of contentment, where envying those we feel are more fortunate than us is a far off nuisance we are beyond fretting about. Though some will claim they have attained this desired state and believe they live comfortably free of dispute, an occasion will inevitably arise where we must debate with ourselves whether we are making the right decisions to maintain our morality. We have been graced with freewill and therefore it is our right to make our own choices. Hence, we will cope with weighing up differing choices. Yet what happens when a conflicting voice such as Anorexia enters the scenario? The introduction of what we might see as a ‘third party’ can disrupt the tranquillity we have built up and our choices no longer become our own, as we are forced into not simply acknowledging but conforming to the masochistic views of the Anorexia. Our desires are left to rot under the new regime the disorder has created, yet as with any war a rebellion can be staged by bitterly fighting to push out the invader; what little hope and glimmer of our former selves that remains is enough with adequate support. Anorexia will not cave unless it is confronted; combatting harder when threatened and so a battle within the ruptured mind must ensue in order to expel it from your conscience. Whilst waging the war against this brute, I have become far more resilient and stronger than I ever was before. If I was forced into admitting that Anorexia has served a purpose whilst leaving me with a positive outcome then it would be that of no longer being so weak as to succumbing to an eating disorder to cope with stress.

In divulging so honestly my experience with an eating disorder, I demolished my protective barrier and left myself open to be criticised and therefore hurt by those reading what I had to say. I never really stopped to contemplate what my sincerity could lead to and that people with whom I had previously socialised with would be initiated into the inner working of my troubled mind.  Though I have undeniably had very positive feedback along the way, only the supportive comments have been available and open to me publically. This leaves me with the paranoid question of, what are those who might ridicule my writing saying without my knowledge. I haven’t previously had reason to deliberate over the integrity of my readers, as I have valued their wholesome support with relish. Yet, a misunderstanding that took place this past week whereby the comments I have received for my work had been mimicked and mocked by an acquaintance, made me wonder whether this was a single case. I took the scorning very personally and was initially hurt that someone could make a joke out of such a tender subject. I am not against a difference of opinion, but when it comes down to sheer mockery, I do not believe there is really any moral reasoning behind it. I chose to rise above the ignorance portrayed on the subject and it served to make me more determined to get my point across that Anorexia is not a joke nor a mere cry for attention.

Having been back from my holiday for over a week now, I have truly been able to reap the benefits of what a few days away from my turbulent life have been able to achieve. Previously stating that there is no overnight change in the way an Anorexia sufferer will think or perceive food still holds true, as recovery is a slow process not made through spontaneous decisions. However, what I had failed to experience up until now is how much completely disrupting a daily routine can alter the way you subsequently carry out your life. I was literally thrown into the deep end, with no time to dip in my toes lightly before taking the plunge. I went from knowing more or less how many calories I consumed a day and keeping track of it in my food diary, to having no clue or even a desire to know the ‘absurd’ amount of calories that were surging through my body over the holiday. In coming back I have abandoned my food diary, feeling that I no longer have a use for it, as I am confident I am attaining a healthy level of nutrition (if not going beyond, translated through my continued successful weight restoration). My diary was like a holy grail to me, as it provided a comfort in the notion of control and relieved me of the stress of not knowing what I was going to eat throughout the day, as each meal including snacks were planned a week in advance. This has been a huge step for me, as the knowledge of my daily calorie consumption has been my comfort blanket for the past year but I feel bare without it but far more mature that I can now handle my own daily nutrition.

A subsequent result of ditching the rigid control I had over the food I was to eat throughout the day has enabled me to relinquish my stubborn need to weigh everything including my morning apple juice and fruit; this is undoubtedly a further encouraging step towards my freedom. I have even been able to eat my mum’s own vinaigrette salad-dressing, which is rich in olive oil. Constantly deliberating over my next meal and when it will be used to govern my social life and every task I was to partake in would HAVE to be in sync with my specific eating patterns as well as factor in the length of time it would take me to finish a meal. Over the past couple of weeks, though I still prefer to take my time when I eat, as I feel force-fed and gluttonous if I was to ‘shovel’ my food down my throat, I have accepted to try a different eating schedule. Instead of a soup for lunch and a larger meal at dinner, I have managed to consume two regular meals consisting of similar portions to that of the rest of my family. I have even set myself the task of eating deserts, which would have been unheard of before going to Florida. I will admit to having overwhelming cravings for these decadent treats before my holiday, but the joy I received from resisting them far out-weighed the guilt I would inevitably be forced to endure should I have succumbed. It took the change of environment to nudge me in the right direction. In a different country you are introduced to foods that are not readily available to you back home and therefore it is almost like a duty to try them whilst you still can. You only live once. A liberated person would try it spontaneously without thinking; I on the other hand had to psyche myself up to beat the Anorexic thoughts before indulging. I must remember deserts are a treat and not an enemy purely there to clog up your arteries and make you appear weak and void of any willpower- if anything they can do nothing but good for me at my current weight. I need not have a desert every day, but should I want one I must learn not refrain due to fear or most importantly the Anorexia’s delight.

My mind is still not inhabited by me alone. The Anorexia though feeble is infuriatingly tenacious and despite the many warnings that the Anorexia might never leave me be, I hope with my entire being to obliterate it. Even if I am offered to try a spoonful of food or merely dip my finger in to taste, the Anorexia will still count it as a calorie allowance I have exhausted and so it is something I abstain myself from. It is frustrating not to be able to act normally and eat things without it having been premeditated beforehand; I want to drive out the grating voice that tells me I do not deserve to indulge and makes me feel weak if I do. The amount of congratulations I received after my revelations last week was surprising, however being told not to fear my progress and being encouraged to do it again made me feel somewhat pressurised. I do not want to disappoint others or myself if I am unable to follow through with what I am believed to be capable of now achieving. I am still restricting myself on the condiments bread and cheese- these having been the first to go. I do aim to one day eat bread with enjoyment again and eventually accept the idea of cheese, though I do not think cheese will ever become part of my daily diet again- it may seem like a shame but it is a compromise I think I will have to make in my recovery. I will continue to fight the Anorexia, in no way am I going to accept it still having a place in my mind even if it is to be locked away tightly. I am slowly phasing the voice out and becoming more accomplished at ignoring it but I will not stop until it has gone.