Hard Travellin'

I woke up at 5 am this morning, and proceeded with my routine:

1. take vitamins
2. turn computer on
3. weigh myself
4. boil kettle
5. smoke cigarette
6. make coffee and drink whilst reading 3 specific blogs
7. eat breakfast
8. prepare food for dinner
9. smoke another cigarette

All of that went the same as it does pretty much any other day. 15 minutes later, I was huddled up against the wall, the floor around me scattered with paper, clutching my knees, rocking back and forth with tears pouring down my face. I felt like my brain was literally being hacked into a thousand little pieces. I kind of lost track of time amidst crying/writing/calculating/smoking. Needless to say, by 7am I had worked myself up into quite a state. I threw on the clothes I wore yesterday, grabbed my bag and left my apartment.

More time was lost.

Somewhere along my walk I decided I should buy pasta sauce. Not just ANY pasta sauce, but a single serving of plain tomato pasta sauce. I had remembered that I had 1 portion of tortellini in the freezer and suddenly decided that it would make a perfect dinner for tomorrow. I went into about 4 different supermarkets- in each one, I found the sauce and waited in line to pay. When it was my turn, I left the queue, put the sauce back on the shelf and darted out the store with thoughts literally crashing around in my head. I cranked the volume up on my iPod and carried on walking. With hundreds of reasons to BUY the sauce and eat pasta tomorrow, and hundreds of reasons NOT to.

I don't know why this is such a bug deal. It's one meal- my dinner is the exact same thing every night at the moment and ONE night of something different is not going to have any dramatic effect on my weight, my life, the world. Yet it felt like a HUGE deal to even be contemplating eating something different. Even if the "different" thing was a regular feature in my diet 6 weeks ago.

I went back and forth in my head about last night's post- old plan, new plan, scrap the plan...fruitarian? vegan? high protein? sodium? fibre? money? I couldn't step back and see the wood for the trees. I vaguely remember sending panicky texts to my mom, then ignoring my phone when she tried to call. I remember listening to Pete Seeger singing "Hard Travelling" at full blast. I eventually answered my phone, but when my mom started to get frustrated and yelling, the noise was too much combined with the noise in my head and I hung up.

Walking, smoking, walking, smoking.

Then it hit me. I don't NEED to give up my old plan, and I don't need to leap straight into the new plan. I can gradually work towards the new plan over the coming weeks- slowly phase out my "safe" foods whilst reintroducing new ones. It seems so damn obvious now. It's only taken me 4 days to realise that it doesn't HAVE to be so black and white/all or nothing.

I feel really stupid now.

I bought the pasta sauce, came home, tidied up the masses of paper around my apartment- pulled out a new notebook and planned the next couple of weeks out. They make sense. Suddenly my world stopped spinning wildly, my heart stopped pounding and I sat on the sofa staring out the window for over an hour. Just silent, sitting, breathing.

I started having thoughts of why I need to change the plan I have right now- why it even MATTERS even more. I feel like for years I had all these great motivating goals- as time has gone by and my recovery has been up and down, I've tried out all these goals. None of them worked out or felt as good as I hoped they would. I don't really have any concrete reason to change things, to keep working towards recovery, to keep fighting the anorexic voice in my head.

Nothing 'concrete' like a specific thing I want to be able to do (move to New York, dance, etc).

I do however have this: if the sheer hell of the past few days has been caused by anorexia, then that is reason enough for me to want to break free from this once and for all.