How Important is Recovery?

I have honestly been really struggling lately. It is making me wonder how worth it this whole process is. Is it worth spending 10 hours a week in therapy? Is it worth being watched for 3 meals a week and having to talk about how I feel about it afterwards? Is it worth unleashing all this trauma in me that has never been dealt with? Is it work spending 3 nights a week in therapy when I could be doing other things? Is it worth having feelings? Is it worth having to document everything I eat for my dietician to look over? Is it worth going on medications for? What is recovery really worth? When I get really discouraged, I often want to say "Fuck It" and just move on. I would quit treatment, have free time at nights, and just live with my ED.

My body image has been horrible this week. I went out with a coworker last night and had to change 4 times before I was okay with leaving the house. She finally had to say, "Stop. You get to change one more time and then after that, we need to leave. You look fine." I just look in the mirror and see stretch marks from weight restoration, stomach fat, lines from my clothes where they don't totally fit anymore, and just feel disgusting. How do you even get over that mental hurdle? I hope that one day my brain can see that I am human and that my body shape is fine, but I really don't think it ever will. Then, I just am so overwhelmed with my trauma and anxiety that it makes me want to curl up in a ball and just shut down. I can't handle thinking about it anymore. Anticipating treatment and having to talk about these things every night is making my anxiety unbelievably high. I have started shaking again and have had panic attacks. It's been really difficult. So, why not just give up? How important is recovery anyways?

Even when I have these awful days, I try to recognize the positives in recovery. I can't always see these things as positive or even that important, but they still exist. Recovery is worth it, because:

• I have enough energy to make it through a day without having to take a nap.
• I can better focus on things I have to get done and accomplish.
• Long term goals seem possible.
• I'm not isolating from friends and family.
• I am not passing out everyday.
• My hair has stopped falling out and my nails are growing. 
• I am not always doubled over in pain when I do eat something.
• I don't have the body of a small child anymore. 
• I can enjoy the little things in life a little bit more.
• Clothes look better, because they're not hanging off of bones. 
• I don't feel the need as much to turn to drugs or alcohol to numb out.
• I don't feel so empty all of the time. 
• I sleep better.
• I have less anxiety.
• I don't have this obnoxious voice screaming my negative core beliefs in my head.

I could go on and on about all of these. There are so many reasons why recovery is important, but the most important one will always be:

• I have my life back.

Honesty.

I've been thinking a lot about honesty lately. I have an extreme amount of honesty (to the point of being blunt) with everyone but myself. This is one of the biggest reasons my eating disorder continued to thrive for as long as it did. I never had the ability to be honest with myself about what I was dealing with or the emotions I was experiencing but denying. Even when I first entered treatment, I made it clear to my treatment team that I would only be staying for 2 weeks before returning to Milwaukee to go back to work, as my medical leave would be ending. I was honest about my desire to return to work, but in denial about how NOT ready I was to do so. Eventually, I was dealt a solid reality check by the people who I had begun sharing my life with. The men and women in treatment with me that I can never thank enough for being honest with me about how concerned they were about my return to Milwaukee.

Thankfully, I listened.

Why is it so difficult for us to be honest about everything, especially the shit we feel and have to deal with every day? For me, my experience of carrying my own childhood trauma (that I had never told anyone about until going to treatment) was too overwhelming. So, I stuffed it deep down into the back of my head and my heart pretending it didn't exist, but it was always there. I think I was too scared to be honest with myself, because I was too scared of how much intense pain and anger I was actually feeling, particularly about the major triggers of my eating disorder. It wasn't until I had a temporary therapist while my primary therapist was on vacation that I really ever tackled many of these topics and my complete lack of identity at 22. I mean, no one has their shit together in their early 20's, but I have always felt this compulsive need that I had to be different and figure it out. I was always the one who everyone needed to rely on. That week when I was really diving in on my work, my therapist required me to be honest with myself and gave me another reality check that I harbor blame and responsibility for so many things that are not my fault. Honestly, I still have a hard time accepting that, but it's a day by day process.

Honesty to me is starting to come easier. Last night, I went on a date and found myself comfortably talking about my eating disorder and treatment. Pretty sure the person I was speaking with had a big part of that, because I felt comfortable sharing those things, which is strange for me. I'm normally a pretty guarded individual, but it felt great to be honest about these things.

I have also been avoiding this blog, because it keeps me accountable and honest with myself, but I think if it doesn't come out, I'm going go back to 6 months ago where I couldn't even see the reality in myself. So, maybe there's nothing wrong with being honest with ourselves. Maybe I need to be just as blunt with myself as I am with others. Otherwise, how can we live the honest lives that we are allowed to have? Honesty is allowed and necessary, even if it doesn't always seem that way.