Stress

It's times like these - the good times - that I feel the need to record.  Because all the little victories count (I even named my NEDA walk team page One Little Victory - yay Rush reference).

I've had what is a reeling week.  A very close family member is in the hospital.  I was turned down for a job I was really excited about.  General and big stuff that came to a culmination yesterday upon hearing of the need for surgery for this family member.  All the while, my ED was practically screaming at me.  Here are some things he/she/it said:

"You know you're stomach is in knots - there is no way you can eat."
"You're feeling like hell...maybe if you showed it, you know, lost a couple pounds, you'd get the care you need through this tough time as well."
"You will feel better eating very little for so many reasons.  That anxiety will slip away..."

Right away, I called the BS on my ED.  It was so tough as I have not heard these voices be this strong in a while.  But I knew better.  When I didn't feel like eating, I got my snack out and made myself eat it.  When lunch came and I still felt like not eating, I went out to my favorite cafe here at work and bought a really good, nutritious and filling lunch - and I ate it all.  By dinner, my appetite and thoughts were back to normal.

And about that comment up there regarding the showing of my emotions, physically?  I reacted in a couple different ways. For one, I logically know I need to care for myself in this time.  It's not about me.  Nevertheless, I am allowed to have strong emotions and needs during this time, so I know what I can do for that.  Instead of not eating and hoping someone notices I need some time or help, I will ask for it - and I did with a few people yesterday.  I know the friends, family and colleagues I can rely on to talk to, or simply ask a favor because that's what responsible, healthy people do.  I know my support team will hear me out when I say that I am having ED thoughts and need some help if I get to a point where I feel my triggers are becoming too much.  And I know when the favor or helping someone else out needs to be returned, I will do what I can to do that. 

For someone without an ED, this may seem to be normal responses and actions, but it's a huge step for me.  What the hell, I will pat myself on the back for that.

This morning, I continued to be strong when the other part of ED was screaming at me - the body image ED. I went for a swim before work to clear my head and relieve some of the tension I've been experiencing.  With my foot still being in a walking boot, I am only able to swim with a pull buoy and I felt quite proud to be in the pool for a good 25 minutes.  I concentrated on my arm form (or what I think is form!) and was dazzled by seeing the bottom of the pool through my goggles.  The swim wasn't about getting in shape, burning calories or losing weight.  It was about being mindful of my body and the awesome stuff it does.

Walking back through the locker room, I put my swimsuit in the machine that rings out the excess water, which happens to be situated right next to the locker room scale. (Another possible post topic - can we ban the gym scale??  Is it really doing anything good for anyone?  They belong in a doctors office!)  I glanced up at the slides which rested on a weight number that was more than likely from the last person who hopped on.  Immediately, the number bothered me - some woman in here weighs that and it's less than I do.  After grabbing my swimsuit out of the machine, I walked back to my personal locker and caught myself feeling bad.  Right away, I started to counteract those thoughts.  Yes, someone weighs less than me. Some weigh more, the same, some are taller, have larger upper bodies, or lower bodies.  Does it matter?  Are these people who are thinner than me better than me?  No, not by the slightest.  We are all equal in some way because of our body differences.

Next I went to blow dryers on the wall, which face a large set of mirrors.  First thought?  I look large, wearing my bra cami tucked into my jeans.  That woman over there?  She looks smaller than me.  And I stopped.  I thought to myself why I felt bad, and remembered the scale number and it's triggering consequences.  I remembered the stress this week, and I thought of my swim that went so well and how great I felt physically.  Somehow, that thinking right there changed how I saw myself in the mirror.  Maybe I didn't think I looked skinny, but I was...fine.  There is a real reason I could be feeling fat, and knowing that is half the battle so I can just push it aside.

After my hair was dry, I put on one of my new favorite shirts over the cami - a "camp" button down cotton shirt with anchors on it.  Feeling brave, I decided to tuck it in my jeans.  I've been living in these over-sized blouses through my recovery because it hides what I am still not comfortable with.  Today, feeling strong, I took another step forward, even if it only lasts today..  Sure, tucking in a shirt and calling that brave is somewhat crazy.  Saving a child from drowning is brave.  Pulling people from a burning building is brave.  But that's what it feels like, quite honestly.  And when we're stressed and pulled in a million different directions, being brave feels pretty damn good.