If I was never really “recovered.” But reading Carrie Arnold’s series on relapse prevention is forcing me to take an honest look.
And if we’re being honest, things have been going downhill for a couple of weeks, and today I found myself face-to-face (or face-to-plate) with a couple of “red light” signs. So now, knowing that, I have to decide what to do about it.
Do I confess to my counselor and nutritionist that we’re back at square one? That I’m not so sure I want to try again? Do I yell and scream at my next nutrition appointment and tell her she was SO VERY WRONG and I broke one of the ED’s rules and everything went to hell and so now I’m refusing to eat more than X calories a day because dang it, that’s SAFE.
And part of me thinks that I’m entitled to make that decision if I want. I tried. I really tried and followed my nutritonist’s advice and plans and ATE BREAD and everything sucked and so I’ll stick to my original plan, thanks.
But healthy brain knows it’s not my choice, that this life and this chance to get healthy are a gift. A really big gift from a Father God who loves me and desires me healthy and whole and has great plans for me. And so my choice is one between life or death, between being obedient and owning the call on my life or uttering a great big “Eff you, God – I refuse to believe you love me.”
This is another disjointed phone post. Another attempt to talk myself into recovery. Eh.