So it's been a while since I blogged and boy has a lot happened. The biggest thing is that a week ago (August 12th) my dear grandmother left this life for the next. I managed to fight through the emotions while at school and didn't act on my symptoms, but then it came time to face the reality and travel to the funeral. This happened on Thursday.
In my mind I knew that it would be hard for me to get all of my exchanges in with food that would be available. Most of the food would be from people who were trying to do something nice for the family....people who knew nothing about my food allergies. This is when ED came out as a coping tool for my grief. Instead of packing along snacks, or stopping at the store, or having some kind of plan I brought nothing except a few bagels I knew would go bad.
My ED gets so tricky. It packaged this perfect concoction to restrict inside nice recovery wrapping paper. It said that by not having food I would be forced to be "normal," to eat whatever was provided. Well, exactly what I knew would happen did. Everything people brought either had cheese or was a dessert. Couple this with the inability to go poo and I had no desire to eat whatsoever or to make people go out of their way to get me food.
Luckily, my stepmom and dad got me subs, yogurt, and nuts, but still I barely got any fat or calories. I began to feel weak again and this weakness helped me to feel numb. To forget the grief and sorrow and feel empty. The final night I spent there (Friday) I started journaling. Trying to grasp how I slipped so bad. It was in that moment my grandmother's death brought me new life.
I realized that by not eating my calories I knew I would lose more weight and I am at way to low a weight to do that. I realized that by continuing to act in my disorder I am slowly sending myself to the grave. I thought back on seeing my dad breakdown at the casket as he stared at the body of a woman who once had so much life. You could see his heart break. This happened again with my brother when he saw my grandma in the casket. Sure they made her look beautiful. Her hair was immaculate, her makeup spotless, her eyes closed as if she were just asleep. But as each of us looked at her we realized she wasn't sleeping and she was never waking up. That body would never again be filled with life. That is when our hearts broke. When that agonizing pain took over. And here I was, restricting. Refusing to feed my body. Here I was saying "Pick me. I will be the next in the casket. I will be the cause of the next breaking of my family's heart."
My grandmother had no choice in her death. She fought infections tooth and nail to survive. She never gave up and never lost hope. I have a choice to eat. To choose life. It's not an easy choice and many times it doesn't seem like an option but it is. It is the only way I will survive. And if it is my time to go, then at least I will go out fighting. I just can't be the cause of my families heartbreak.
I had another realization too. I realized all the people my grandmother impacted. The viewing for the funeral didn't start till 10 am and people were lining up at 9:45. She was an 89 year old woman who still packed out the church with people. It was so packed they ran out of programs. In fact, had her Sunday school class not been on retreat they would have run out of chairs too. When I saw the people flooding in I started to think who would attend my funeral. I realized in that moment that ED has kept me from my potential. He has kept me isolated and prevented me from having the energy to make an impact in the world. I don't even think I could fill a supply closet to capacity with the people (outside of family) that I have connected too. That broke my heart.
Then I was looking at her life. At all her accomplishments. These were shown by boards filled with pictures and memories. I again thought to myself: "If I were to die in this moment, what memories would people have to share? What would they say of me?" Honestly my life has been my ED. Spending so much time in treatment centers, doctor's offices, or stuck in the worries and sorrows of my mind has kept me from making memories. What would the preacher say? Would the same kind words shared about my grandma be shared about me? In all honesty: no. It would just be that I didn't overcome the lifelong battle I had to fight. That I was another statistic of anorexics who die from the disease. That I had so much life to live and it was taken from me. But I don't want that to be my reality, and in order to begin to live life, to cherish every moment like my grandmother, I have to recover.
I know this is getting long but there was one last realization. I realized that to make my grandmother proud, to make her legacy live on, to let her light continue to shine I must recover. I want to be more like my grandmother and share the lessons her life taught me. I want to be like she was where I never complain or speak a bad word about someone else. That I always look on the positive of things. This positivity is only seen in the rays of recovery. I want to be full of life, to have that light inside of me radiate out and brighten everyone around as my grandmother did. This light can only be unleashed through recovery. I want to live my life harnessing every moment and the possibilities it brings to help others. This is only possible with the energy of purpose brought by recovery. And I want to make my grandma proud. I want her to look down from heaven and smile at the accomplishments of her granddaughter. She wouldn't want me to restrict. To be tortured and tied down by the rulings of scales, nutrition labels, and food. She would want me to enjoy life. She would want me to find freedom with food. She would want me to recover.
So even on the days when it seems like I can't I will push on for my dear Grandmother Ruth. I will allow myself to nourish my body not just with what it needs, but with what it wants as well. I will release myself from the burden of scales, measuring, and calories. I will eat based off of exchanges and give myself freedom to not measure everything. I will face my fear foods till I feel freedom to eat them. I will step on scales when at doctor's and a maximum of once weekly. I will make my grandmother proud. I will recover.
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