Brie Betrayed

My heart feels heavy. I cried almost the entire hour in therapy today and I’m not even sure why. I just feel betrayed. By my body, by my best friend, and by intuitive eating and recovery. I think most people are under the false impression (including myself, sometimes) that once you are recovered, or in recovery, (whatever that means to you) that things are grand. That you are suddenly happy and that your problems seem to flit away, and that you are strong and capable to handle whatever happens – and that you’ll do so in some sort of socially accepted “healthy” manner.

But I don’t feel that way. Yes, there is absolutely no denying that I’m happier now that I’m not actively engaging in my ED. No question there. But it doesn’t mean things are perfect. In some ways I still feel pretty lost. I still feel pretty out of control.

Last night in group, it seemed like the really sick girls (i.e. the girls who are new to treatment and still heavily engaged in their ED) just look up to me like I’m some recovery goddess on a pedestal; happy and perfect. And it’s hard to keep up that image. Cuz I just think, if you really knew what was going on in my head, would you feel the same way? Or would you balk at my insecurities and heinous body image and how out of control I feel? Sure, I’m not grossly underweight, and I’m no longer hooked to a feeding tube or in and out of the hospital, but I still hurt. I’m just not displaying my pain anymore for the world to see – but it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

And I’ve always been terrible with actually saying how I feel out loud – with expressing my anger or pain or fear through words, or through some other appropriate and healthy means, rather than starving or cutting to say HELP ME HELP ME I’M DYING I HURT HELP ME PLEASE. I’ve always used my body. And now that I don’t have that…I’m quiet. I’m withdrawn. I’m hurting, but I have no idea how to actually say that. My walls are back up. And that’s making me terribly lonely.

My body size, my weight, and how quickly I’m putting on pregnancy weight, has really thrown me for a loop, too. I can officially and irrefutably say that I weigh more now than I ever have in my entire life. It physically feels different. It’s hard to get used to. I’m so aware of my body and of how much space I take up and it moves and looks differently. It feels alien and out of control and gross. I understand that a good portion of feeling this way is distorted, and can change, but until then, I almost feel like one of those pod people – like I’m inhabiting some foreign body that doesn’t belong to me. ET, phone home, right?

So, forgive me for this post. I sometimes stumble along in recovery, trying to find my way through the twists and turns life and recovery can throw at me. Things feel a bit tricky and more than a little messy, but I’m slowly figuring things out. And don’t you dare think I’m giving up – I’m not – I’m simply trying to be honest with my feelings, in expressing that recovery isn’t always perfect. And neither am I.