This Recovery Thing

Today I graduated to an every other week schedule with my nutritionist instead of a weekly appointment, after 4 years. It has taken me that long to actually feel like I can do this recovery thing. I've finally gotten to the point where I can eat three times a day. For so long, my rule was eating once a day. Rules are hard for me to break, especially the ones I have set up for myself, but each day that I do, it gets that much easier.

I'm doing yoga six days a week, and eating more, and what do you know...I've lost weight! As much as my nutritionist told me that was the way it worked, I could not get myself to believe her. She would tell me that my body was in starvation mode, therefore holding onto everything it could, but all that I could see was that eating equaled weight gain. When I went into treatment I thought that was my proof. I gained weight for eating, and everyone was out to fatten me up. With yoga, I'm so much more present in my body, reveling in what it can actually do. When I don't eat, I can't do yoga, and believe me, I have tried, almost blacking out. It only took me one time to figure that out!

I'm proud of where I am at this moment, so I'm hanging onto that, and not thinking too much about what tomorrow will look like. Well, I won't lie...I am very cautious. I don't want to let my guard down, because I've slipped so many times. Everyday I'm overwhelmed with new feelings, and allowing myself to feel them is bringing me a sense of freedom. Eating is what is bringing these feelings to the surface, and sometimes I fear that the painful feelings will scare me so much that I turn to the eating disorder to make them go away. I've had more flashbacks and dreams of the rape, which my therapist says is normal with re feeding. The dreams and flashbacks are different though. In the dreams I'm like a bystander watching what is happening, and instead of feeling disgust for myself, I want to reach out to that girl and help, only I can't. I'm paralyzed, my limbs heavy, and my mouth so dry that I cannot speak or utter even a sound. I think it means that I now have compassion for the child that I was, but that I realize that I can't really help her. It has already taken place, and nothing can change that fact. The flashbacks are more like watching a movie where the main character is not you. It doesn't feel like it is happening directly to me, but to someone else. I used to relive everything about the rape, down to smells and body memories. They were scary and out of control, but I'm beginning to take back the power over what happens to my body and mind. Powerful stuff, huh? All that I can say is it has been a long time coming!