Ok days and Bad days

I personally have to admit something.  I honestly don’t know what a good day is.  I know the definition of good, but for the past 20 years, I’ve numbed every thought and feeling that could possibly be numbed.  This past week has been extremely draining.  I have struggled with meals, I’ve broke down and cried because I’ve thought that no one at the real estate office likes me, I supported my best friend as she faced something that no parent should ever have to face, and became so overwhelmed as I ate lunch in front of people when I forgot my anxiety medicine and end up sobbing in my husbands arms. Here’s the truth, like Kat said in a previous post, treatment is the easy part.  You are told when to wake up, when to eat, when to go to groups, when to turn in your electronics, and when its time for meds.  All of that is easy, because someone else is telling you what to do, there are rules to follow and when those rules aren’t followed, you get privileges taken away.  When you come home, everything changes, no one tells you when its time to get up, or when to eat, or anything.  The ball is in your court, and while I have a support system of people from treatment, there is a part of me that is lonely.  I know this feeling is mutual between all of us who have been in treatment.  My husband goes to every length to try and support me, but in real life, unless you have been through an eating disorder or trauma, or whatever it is that you are/have struggled with, it is incomprehensible for that person.  Let me break this down.  The rose colored glasses are off, this is real life, this is life, post-treatment.
This is where I question everything I’m doing because in my past I have brought up ideas at my old job over, and over with the result was them telling me that it was a dumb idea. You question if you are in fact dumb.  This is the sad part…every single time a person gets shot down and told that their idea is dumb, they start to believe it.  This is where it becomes really sticky because when people tell me that it was a dumb idea, all of these other thoughts start to roll through my head of “I’m not good enough, not smart enough, unloveable, repulsive, ugly, worthless.”  Get the point?  In the same way that people told me that my ideas were dumb, my eating disorder has taken control of it and knows exactly, how to get my attention, how to flood my brain and my every thought.  It’s exhausting, and very confusing.
I essentially wanted y’all to know that I’m human, and just because I have been treatment, doesn’t mean that I have been fixed.  I am trying to stay in recovery, but everyday is a fight, and y’ll need to know that there are ok days and there are bad days, I have to learn and create what good days will be.  Just don’t give up.


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