There I was, at 5:45 p.m., sitting in my class about diversity and the media, writing down all the calories I’ve eaten today on the back of my sylllabus.
I don’t even know how I got there-I really thought I was having a pretty OK day with Ed.
In the morning, even though I wanted to go workout really hard, I knew I couldn’t because my neck was still hurting, so I walked instead.
It still hurt to walk, and maybe it wasn’t the best choice, but it was still only walking.
And for me, that was a total win that I even was able to do that and not go running instead.
I wasn’t satisfied with only walking, but it was enough exercise that I was able to eat lunch and eat my snack.
I was talking back and forth with Ed a lot today, as you can see, but I felt like I was the one getting in the last word.
So, how I got to writing my calorie count on the back of my syllabus in class, I do not know.
I realized what I did , only after I even did it.
I hated doing it though. It felt so automatic, so expected, and so part of my routine.
Writing calories on pieces of paper in class used to be part of my old school routine, it’s not something I wanted to bring into this new routine when I am in recovery.
At first, I thought about crossing the calorie count out.
But now that I look at it right next to me, I want to leave it there.
I want to leave it there as my reminder of what Ed can do to me when I let him take over my mind; he can distract me from class, and the end result, is that calorie count on the back of that paper.
But really,what are those numbers anyway on the back of my syllabus?
They are numbers. Just numbers. More and more numbers. Big numbers…which I don’t like, but in the end, just numbers.
Those numbers are what Ed thrives off. They are so factual, and to the point.
They are so unforgiving.
Ed is unforgiving.
But me, I am forgiving.
I forgive myself for writing those calorie counts on the back of my syllabus, because I am doing the best that I can do.
Being OK with doing the best you can do, is not a concept that is accepted for those of us who live with eating disorders, or any kind of addiction.
The best doesn’t exist in the dark world of eating disorders, until you give your life to it.
There’s always a lower weight to reach, or a smaller size to fit into.
In recovery, doing my best does indeed exist.
And to be honest, sometimes I don’t even know what doing my best is.
Yesterday it was eating even though I didn’t exercise, today it was walking instead of running, and maybe tomorrow it will be something else.
For today, I was the best me that I could be, and to that, I end tonight by saying, hello life.