The impossible has happened.
Something that I never, ever thought would happened.
I HAVE BONDED WITH BARB.
Seriously. When I found out I'd be cooking with her, I thought "Fuck. Cooking AND the B-meister?? What have I done to deserve such punishment?" Especially when she said "I can't cook."
And let's just say, she was right. I was like fucking Emeril compared to her. Except for the whole eggplant cutting thing. Apparently you're supposed to cut it in circles?? Who knew? But anyways, let's get to that amazing bonding session. Barb is, in one word, HILARIOUS. Seriously. She is incredibly funny, sweet, and nurturing. Maybe it's because she misses her daughters, maybe it's because she felt bad for me due to the entire Ensure fiasco, but I'm really, really starting to like her. And let's just say, were it not for B-Money, I never would have known that "thumb therapy" existed.
Today was a good day. And honestly? That scares the shit out of me. I'm really not used to feeling happy. And this happiness came out of no where. Well, I guess when you think about it in biochemical terms (which, I have to ask, why wouldn't you be doing in the first place?) it may be due to the release of endorphins in the brain after my trip to the gym today, because ever since then, I've been feeling really, really good.
But this morning, at group? Not so good. It's weird. I get these random stress/anxiety/depression attacks out of NO WHERE. I was literally sitting there at the table, feeling good. We were going around doing a "check-in" to see how each of us was feeling this morning (which is absolutely necessary, as we hardly ever discuss our feelings here at the HG). I was like third in line to go, and when the first person was talking, I was thinking "I'll say I'm really happy! Because I am!" Then literally, three minutes later, I was in this state of utter despair. I was thinking "Fuck this. Fuck everything. Life sucks." You know, my usual mantra.
Nicola helped though, as always. Either I'm REALLY not stealth (highly improbable) or she's just incredibly receptive. She noticed right away, and gave me a post-it that says HUG. Seriously, shit like that just melts my heart. Whenever I'm convinced I'm heartless, something happens that just changes my mind.
It's scary though. Because I feel like soon, VERY SOON--before I finish writing this note, even--that I could just crash. And feel like shit. AGAIN. And I really, really don't want to. I was actually MYSELF tonight. FULLY. At dinner, we were laughing (let me reiterate: thumb therapy= HILARIOUS!) and joking and I even made comments in my sing-songy voice.
THE SING SONGY VOICE. That ONLY happens when I'm feeling good. You can't fake a good sing song.
After some extensive thinking, I'm almost 100% sure I'm going to do the step down program. I really don't think I'll be ready to leave in 12 days. Having semi-freedom will be hard enough, because I am so so terrified and doubtful of everything. And I was just thinking of myself, and I thought if I get COMPLETE freedom right away, I'm going to be so confused. And fucking terrified. And depressed. I probably won't be very pleasant to be around, either, and the people that I would be seeing post-HG don't deserve a bitchy Angie. I haven't really unleashed her in front of many people, but when I do...ooooh, be scared.
I didn't have any snacks today. The morning snack I skipped because I honestly was not hungry. Food seriously did not even cross my mind at the time because I was full from breakfast. But in the afternoon I started to get hungry. My stomach growled, and I'm pretty sure it was audible. But I didn't eat. Maybe that's why I was feeling so good: Ed is starting to come back, full force. I thought "I worked out today and ate less calories than normal because I skipped my morning snack. I should just keep this going and not eat anything that's not required." By dinnertime, I was STARVING. And that made me feel like such a fatass. Because the meals we have to eat are HUGE, at least in my mind. Even without snack, I feel like I should definitely not be hungry in the least. But I was. And it kind of freaked me out. It felt good saying no. We learned that an eating disorder gives you a "high" feeling because you feel so in control and empowered and all that. And that definitely may be the cause for my good mood. But I don't want to think about it too much. Because if I do, I'll get depressed, and I just don't want to feel that way anymore. At all.
When Nicola and I were at Starbucks the other day, we started talking about how we envy people who are comfortable in their own bodies. If I pass a girl who's 300 lbs. but comfortable and confident, I'm jealous of her. Because she has something that I fear I will never, ever have: acceptance. Confidence. A life outside of worrying about her appearance. Sure, her arteries may be clogged with grease and she may be one Value Meal away from having a heart attack, but at least she's HAPPY. At least she accepts herself.
It's really, really hard for me to tell if I've been making any sort of progress. I guess my awareness of certain things is a progression; however, just being aware of something will not prevent me from acting on my behaviors. I need something more. I need support. I need structure. I need to know what to do so I don't get confused, get stressed, and go puke.
And going to the gym is another thing. Laura and I went today, and after we worked out, she said "For some reason, I feel like I just did something bad." You said it, sister. I feel the same way. Of course, part of me is like "YEEEAH! Exercise!! Do more than what's allowed!! Just five minutes; they'll never know!" while the other half of me thinks that while physically I may be okay working out for 45 minutes, mentally I should NOT be doing it. I was an exercise bulimic. If I ate something? Psh. I worked off every bit of it and then some.
Logically, I know I'm not better. It's been 18 days!! That's nothing compared to the lifetime I face dealing with this. But there are times like tonight where I just feel so normal, and all of a sudden I think "But you're not. You may feel like the old Angie now, but come next meal time, you'll be freaking out, calculating what calories you can, and trying to get away with the least amount possible."
Okay, confession time: My jeans fit today. They fit fine. So did my shirt. And that, I believe, is 90% of why I felt good today. The other 10% was a mixture of my messed up brain and the adrenaline from the workout. But had I gone home and tried on my clothes and have them NOT fit, I would felt like shit all day. And this makes me feel bad. Like it's not me that's happy, Ed's just happy that all the shit I've been doing here hasn't completely sabotaged his work. Because I still think "Well, maybe your jeans fit, but that might be because you broke them in. Who knows if a pair in that size in the store would fit you??"
I still do body checks. And I FREAK OUT every time. I look at certain parts of me and do tests to see if they're bigger or not.
Uck. I feel mental right now. I can't keep a straight thought in my head. I made an art collage thing. I'm one of the WORST artists ever (even my stick people look elementary), but I actually kind of like this one. I cut out a bunch of words from magazines and put them on scrapbooking paper. I hung it next to my bed.
I'm trying to get a bunch of intangible objects I can take with me when I leave that remind me of recovery. My bracelet, my art work, the sign with my name on it that the girls made for me before I came. I'm hoping that in moments of weakness I can look at these things, relax, and just clear my thoughts before doing anything that would ruin my will to get better.
Get better. Get better.
This should be my new mantra. It's easier to say than the old one, anyway.
