Today was the first time that it rained in Los Angeles this season, and being that I really don’t like water, I really don’t like the rain either.
My professor for my class today had made the mistake of telling me on Monday, that she won’t be in class today, so there would be no quiz and we would have a guest speaker instead. “Don’t tell anyone else in the class or else they won’t come,” she told me.
I don’t think she thought that I would be the one who would not go to the class knowing this information, but turns out, I was.
It was just the perfect opportunity to spend a day with me, myself, and I.
Number one, it was raining, and I didn’t want to drive. Number two, she was gone, so why not?
Typically, the straight A student in me would never do this, but today, I just needed a mental health day.
At first, I thought I would just use the time to work on my new article and relax. But it actually turned into a lot more than that.
It turned into a day of self care and a day to challenge and beat Ed.
Oh yes, Ed came marching in right away, literally playing drums and trumpets that I now not only had no school to go to so I could skip the snack I normally get at school, but that I had the house to myself at night too, so dinner could just be a little snack or something totally not on the meal plan.
And when I say marching with drums, he really was that loud, and it really did come off like a party inside my head, like being able to skip these meals was some kind of celebration.
But I didn’t want to miss my snack and I didn’t want to miss dinner. I got hungry and I wanted to eat. It was just that simple.
It’s hard for me to even say and write what I wanted, versus what Ed wanted, because the line is so blurred.
At one time, Ed’s line was my line-there was no blur. I saw what he wanted and I thought it’s what I wanted and I obeyed.
But now, there is a line between Ed and I, which is a huge step for me in my recovery, but it’s still always blurry, and I had to keep reminding myself today of what I wanted, not what Ed wanted.
At the end, I actually sat down and made myself a really nice dinner-complete with a salad for an appetizer (Ed wanted it to be the main meal but that didn’t happen) and the food my mom made for me last night. I didn’t watch TV, I didn’t go on my phone, I just sat with me , myself, and I-and InStyle Magazine.
It was actually really nice. Ed was there too, but I just let him watch. By that point, I already had control over the steering wheel.
He is still marching right now, yet now without drums or trumpets, but with more of a sad depressing symphony that I’ve let myself down because I had the opportunity to restrict, and I didn’t.
It’s not easy sitting here and challenging those thoughts, and that’s the truth.
Ed is wrong. Me, Myself and I are right. And we were right to eat. And we were right to take a mental health day and not go to class and work on other projects and relax. We are right, we are right, we are right.
I wish Ed would march his way back out of the space he’s currently taking up in my head, but if he’s not, the least I can do is make him feel as uncomfortable as possible.
How do I make Ed feel uncomfortable? Easy-I expose him.
And I am exposing him and his drums and his sad symphonies all on this post. By exposing him, and by saying he is wrong over and over again, he might not be quiet, but he will eventually lose some of his credibility.
I would rather sit here and be the only one dancing to the beat of my own drum in recovery than sitting here feeling like I am being forced to dance to Ed’s drums, like a puppet with no control over themselves.
So, me, myself and I were right to not listen to Ed today.
We were right. He was wrong.
And we will dance to the beat of our own drum–uncoordinated and maybe not knowing the right steps for as long as it takes until our beat is louder than Ed’s. I am not sure how long that will take, but I guess we have another 104 days to figure it out.