End of the road?

Tomorrow is my last eating disorder therapy session, does this mean I am recovered, absolutely not! This week I've been particularly bad, whilst I don't want to disclose numbers I know I am surviving on less than half my recommend calorie intake. I'm terrified about what will happen once that support has disappeared, I've spoken to by GP and she has told me that if I need more help then I'll have to join a TWO YEAR waiting list - I'm not sure I can do that. Two years is an awfully long time to go with no professional support. I'm lucky that I have an incredible support network around me, people who are desperate for me to recover, yet that desperation worries me. In a therapy session I can be completely honest, spill out my darkest fears and talk candidly about my feelings, I just don't think that is possible with the people you love. I feel like I have a weight of expectation on my shoulders, not just my own hopes for recovery but also those of everyone who loves me.

I have been told daily that I am an inspiration, by complete strangers on twitter to friends, yet I feel I am living a lie. How can I be inspiring others to fight for recovery when I am doing so badly? How can others take my words and turn them into inspiration to eat when I cannot? What on earth is going to happen to me when I am on my own? Tomorrow will mark a big step forward for me, the biggest one I have taken on my recovery journey so far, and I am terrified about where I am going to end up.

Realisation

A year ago I was out of control, my anxiety was gathering momentum and my eating was non existent, no one asked me what was wrong because no one knew - I had become an expert at painting a face on and pretending everything was ok. A year later, with my anxiety under control thanks to medication, I am able to reflect. Sure my husband being away didn't help, but that wasn't it. I spent my days teaching, talking to parents and children and menial topics, but they aren't my friends/family so I could hardly open up to them. I arrived home to a cold, dark, empty house during the week, often late at night so I would go straight to bed. I had no one to talk too and no one to reassure me that I was doing ok. Stupidly I didn't even tell Stuart what I was feeling because I didn't want him worrying when he was away.

Now I know that I need to talk, to vent my worries, my anger and frustration, it's ok to feel alone but it's not ok to let the anxiety win. I'm not yet in a place where my GP feels she can reduce my tablets, so I am aware that the way I'm feeling right now might not be 'me', but I'm well on the way to winning the fight. A year ago I never believed I would feel like this, who knows where I may be this time next year.

The long and winding road

I've never been the sort of person who just spontaneously plans a trip (I'd love to be that person it's just not in my psyche). When I set off on a journey I like to have a good idea in my head of where I am going and how long it will take to get there, maybe this is why I am finding recovery so hard. It doesn't come with a set of directions to follow, it isn't nicely gift wrapped. Recovery is an unknown journey for me, the only certainty is that by the end of it i'll be the one thing I am scared of most in this world, heavier.

People have the misconception that recovery is simply a case of eating more but it really is so much deeper than that. I am having to learn to ignore those voices that tell me food is bad, that enjoying food is greedy. I didn't stop eating because I wanted to thinner, I don't think the skeletal look is an attractive one, I stopped eating to gain some sort of control over my life as I went spiralling into the depths of anxiety. I aspire to have a body like the athletes I cheered on at last years Olympics - strong and functional.

My problem with food goes way back to my early teens, a time when I was suddenly conscious of my body (puberty is a bitch for everyone!) I had aspirations of becoming a ballet dancer, I worked my body hard and then I pushed it even further, I was a typical 'bun head' I lived to be in the dance studio and on stage. My friends were starting to have periods and mine were still absent, I was desperately trying to fit in at school and yet I was different - I knew what I wanted to do, I didn't go out to parties as there was always a dance class I wanted to go to more, I wasn't interested in boys, I wanted good grades and I worked hard to get them. These things singled me out and in an attempt to blend in (or disappear) I controlled my food. This means my eating disorder has been a part of my life for 13 years. Whenever anything has gone badly for me I've coped by restricting my diet, this isn't turned around by simply eating more - if only it was. I need to learn to make choices based on what I want to eat rather than what is the lowest in calories. I need to learn that my self worth isn't measured by how little I've eaten, I need to learn to take control and fight back.

Recovery doesn't come with a set of directions, every single person who is recovering from an eating disorder will be on a different path to mine, one that throws up different challenges. Every step I take is taking me further away from my comfort zone and deeper into the unknown. Is it hard? You bet your life it is, but I have never been so determined to fight in my life.