Just before I hopped in the shower yesterday, I saw those scales sitting on C’s bedroom floor – where she had put them after I asked her to take them from the bathroom. I hesitated and ED stole my brain for a moment – IWASGOINGTO WEIGHMYSELFIHADTOWEIGHMYSELFICOULDN’TSTOPMYSELFFROMWEIGHINGMYSELF.
But I didn’t end up following through with those thoughts.
Why? I don’t know. Perhaps now I have enough strength to turn my eating disorder down when it demands something of me. Perhaps, after mulling over it for a little while, I realised that I don’t particularly want to live my life by the scales anymore. Or that it is irrelevant to me now, and my values lie elsewhere.
Also, I was stressed I would weigh more because I had 2 pieces of raisin toast, some yoghurt and a cup of tea in me. Which is almost beside the point, but not quite. You see, I still stress about these things sometimes. Last week for example, I was scared to go to the chiro wearing jeans because I thought I would weigh more when I stepped on the scales there.
I weighed exactly the same as I have for the past 4 months.
The eating disordered mind is so, so irrational. The frustrating part is that at the time, it seems completely logical to the individual. It is only with reflection upon the behaviour that they recognise it was wrong. I think my little fears are becoming less and less. I had a night a few weeks ago where I freaked about eating nachos for dinner. But I conquered them and it was all rather exciting, really.
My eating disorder doesn’t always win anymore. And I can’t wait until the day when I can say that it never wins. That will be spectacular indeed.
Love, Rebekah xxxx