So, I have a confession to make: I am ashamed.
And because of that deep shame, and at times even guilt, I have been avoiding this blog like the plague. Because as much as I’ve talked about being real and raw and unabashedly honest, I have a very difficult time being any of those things when it comes to talking about my current struggles.
But at this point, I am so tired of hiding and being ashamed and guilty that I am just going to spill my guts. So here it goes.
I have relapsed. My eating disorder and I are back together at the moment. I am not perfect at recovery and yes, I relapsed. You may or may not already know/guessed that but there it is. And along with my eating disorder, a new voice came along: Depression. And something else tagged along with Depression: deep-rooted Denial.
I have not wanted to write and I have struggled to be motivated to even do school (my perfection came in handy in that area). I go to work, come home, and try to steel myself for another day. Oftentimes, I will have silent breakdowns during the wee hours of the morning and then wake up, put on my mascara, blush, and some eyeliner and pretend nothing is wrong.
When I go to work and people how I am, I paste a smile on my face and say, “Doing good. How ’bout you?” I go through the motions and a lot of times, I am kept so busy during the day with disgruntled customers and the general chaos that comes from working in a fast food restaurant, that I have no time to think or reflect on my feelings.
It also gives me a convenient excuse to miss lunch (oops, I was so busy!), although I know even if I was at home, the urge to restrict would still be strong and I would make up some excuse.
It’s a vicious cycle and one that is not helped by that little voice known as denial. For months, I have told myself that everyone feels sad sometimes. Everyone has bad days. And I was just restricting a little, right? No big deal.
The thing is, it is a big deal. Of course it is normal to feel sad and have bad days but when that feeling of almost constant hopelessness and little thoughts of Is my life even worth living? start to creep in, it’s not normal.
At this point, I don’t know if my depression (which a part of me still likes to deny or downplay) is a result of my relapse or if it was already there and this just brought it out full force.
But whatever the case, the eating disorder and the depression thrive off each other.
Anorexia numbs every emotion, so it (temporarily) makes the feeling of darkness/hopelessness go away (although in the end, it just makes it worse).
Depression makes you unmotivated to do anything, including pursue recovery. Why bother if nothing is ever going to get better anyway?
At this point, I honestly have no idea what my next move should be. Another therapist just dropped me and I am. feeling. lost.
But I guess this my first move, in a way. I am coming out about my relapse and depression. After all, overcoming denial and being open are some of the first steps to getting better.