What a difference a year makes
A year ago I was clinically emaciated, and going through refeeding.
I’m glad I documented this process because it helps me remember how hard it was. It wasn’t just that month in residential. It took months to be able to eat again without my eating disorder screaming at me. It whispers, now. It whispers and I can tell it to fuck off.
My therapist told me she can literally tell when I haven’t eaten that day. She can tell by my mood. And she is never wrong when she calls me out on it. It was eye opening to see just how much starvation effects my depression.
So when I have to force myself to eat, that realization has helped probably more than anything else has. I ask myself, is this worth my happiness? When I feel depressed I’d give anything to not feel that way. And this is one of those things I can do. I can nourish my body to nourish my mind.
I’ve said more than a few times this year, as my eating disorder attempts to sneak it’s way back into my life, that I never want to have to come back from that again. And I’m not certain my body could handle another relapse, to be honest. #Anorexia #AnorexiaNervosa #EatingDisorder #eatingdisordertreatment #EatingDisorderRecovery #Residential #ResidentialTreatment #MentalIllness #MentalHealth #MentalHealthAwareness #Recovery #growth #Healing