Three Fridays ago, my brain whirled with pain as it spun in a mad circle while knives jabbed into it. For several days, I have felt much better if still a bit woozy and weak. Today, however, the agony returned.
Wednesday, just make it until Wednesday. That continues to replay in my mind. Then, I will be at the doctor again to have my labs drawn. Hopefully the results will be better, but I doubt that highly. Flashbacks to my freshmen year of college streak through my head. My eating disorder’s siren voices lures me into the ocean where I am sure to sink and drown if I continue to follow.
Losing my freshmen year stunk, but losing my senior year would be a thousand times worse. My life is finally beginning to make sense. Theater, music, art, travel, friends, school, writing, helping others – so many blessings have entered my life. Why would I give them up for this stupid disease that is killing me?
Recovery is a bumpy process. One day might be fabulous while the next is agonizing. Each step of the journey brings new challenges but also beautiful moments. That is what I am in the middle of right now: wonderful opportunities and struggles to care for myself while handling stress.
Right now, I need to listen to others. My health is the most important thing. Working myself in the manner that I have been doing has been detracting from my well-being. I am still unsure of how to handle that, but something needs to change.
After all, this merry-go-round is beginning to make me nauseous. Living while treating my body with such disregard is not true life but mere survival.