Muddled

I’m confused. My nutritionist seems to think that is a good place to be, that at least it’s inching into shades of grey where I can begin to recover. At the very least, this confusion acknowledges that staying where I am is not an option.  It is the simultaneous statements of No, I can NOT keep doing life like this and I really don’t want to deal with life; I’d rather live in an ED-induced denial haze.  That first half is hopeful, yes?  I think today was the first time my nutritionist heard me say those words.

But here’s the problem with confusion: I don’t know how to deal with it. I don’t know how to deal with uncertainty. I don’t know how to deal with the fact that recovery is not an all-or-nothing, wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, completely linear process.

So what do I do?

I freak out and engage in disordered behaviours. Brilliant.

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