Lately I feel like I am on my last chance with recovery. I don’t have it in me to go through this with the food again. Every time I relapsed, it just got uglier and uglier. I’m realizing that I have to be willing to burn it all down and start over—throw out all of my falsely brilliant, bad, ugly ideas and start from scratch. There are so many things still lurking in my mental closet that it overwhelms me. About to embark on a 4th step with my new sponsor, and it feels really scary this time (even though it’s my fourth 4th step in 5 years!). She told me last night that I never have to relapse again, but I’m still scared. Strangely, there’s nothing going on with my food. I’m just having urges to restrict and over-exercise. There’s a LOT going on emotionally: dealing with the death of my Dad, having my bipolar Mom living in my kitchen, getting my salary cut and health insurance changed at work, still dealing with my hand injury, the world is collapsing and the economy crumbling, etc. That’s all! No wonder I’m a fucking emotional wreck and I cry every time I meditate.
There’s a big difference between recovering from an eating disorder and dieting—dieting IS my eating disorder in all of its Wicked Stepmother glory. I want her to accept me, I want to keep the peace and at the same time, I know that she’s not my real mother and that she’s not doing me any favors. In fact, she’s plotting against me. I want to go to the Ball in my pretty gown and she, Dieting, is locking me in the fucking closet and cackling. The solution is not dieting. The solution is something else altogether, and it probably involves burning the closet down.