For whatever reason, I felt like I was back in the very beginning of recovery today.
I went out to have lunch with my grandma.
I’ve gone out to eat hundreds of times by now, and at many different and new places, and I usually don’t have that hard of a time anymore with new and “not safe” foods.
But today, I had a hard time.
I didn’t like that the fish I ordered had oil on it, and I didn’t like it that it was a lunch bigger than I would normally have.
It was something out of my routine. I still ate it and enjoyed it, but it was more of a reminder to me about where I once started in recovery.
There was a point where having even an apple for lunch was hard for me to do. There was a point where I couldn’t even have gone out to lunch at all.
And experiencing the hard time I had today kind of grounded me and brought me back to those early days in my recovery 7 months ago.
It makes me appreciate the many lunches I have been able to go to without Ed stepping in.
Today was a struggle, but it’s when we struggle, that we find our greatest strengths.
I found my strength today, when I ate that lunch anyway, and when I was able to sit with the discomfort of that and ride out those feelings, instead of just give in to Ed and restrict.
Instead of being mad at Ed today for trying to pull me back to him today, I am actually a little grateful.
Thank you Ed for reminding me of where I once started, and how far I’ve come.
And thank you for showing me how strong I’ve become.
You sat with me today at that table and watched me eat the lunch you so badly didn’t want me to eat.
How did it feel to lose your control over me today?
How did it feel to tell me not to eat, yet I didn’t listen?
How did it feel to see me trample on your demands with my own needs and wants?
How does it feel for me to not listen to you?
How does it feel for me to not care about what you wanted, and only did what I wanted?
Maybe now you have a glimpse into the way you made me feel for all those years that you were the one in control.
Well Ed, If you want to come into my head and tell me not to eat, then I have no other choice but to invite you to sit at my table with me.
I’m not afraid of you anymore.
And every time you yell at me to not eat, I am going to pretend like your voice is silent-just the way you did to me every time I told you to stop making me lose more weight.
The tables are starting to turn, dearest Ed. Hope you can get used to it.