Scrapping "Plan B"

Every time I start to make progress, I have these niggling thoughts in the back of my mind of restricting at some point in the future. It's really hard for me to grasp the idea of never starving myself again. It's always *there*- I can do my grocery shopping for a week and plan my meals out and it's all good, but I can't seem to get my head around the idea of carrying on for longer than a few days at a time.

I am going to be moving into my own place soon, and although I am 100% responsible for buying/preparing my meals at the moment, and usually eat by myself, my thoughts are drifting to what I will have the freedom to do once I am on my own.

There is a small part of me that doesn't want to let this go. The identity that I have, the support I get now, the body, the whole kit and caboodle. Of course, on many more levels I DESPISE my eating disorder and am desperate to be 100% free, but there is this grey in-between area where it would be so easy/is so tempting to slip backwards into the shadows of anorexia.

I had an appointment today about accommodation (the plan is to move into supported housing, where I'll have my own place but have someone come visit a few hours a week) and whilst I was on the bus there, I started making my "new" meal plan, shopping list, etc.

I can't seem to grasp the concept that I don't need to do this anymore.

I still buy a lot of diet products- I argue with myself in the store ("why are you buying that one just because it's X cals less than the one you really want? you don't NEED to be stressing over such a minimal amount"). I still weigh myself daily hoping that the number will be less than the day before. I feel like my brain is splitting in two- the part of me that is talking the talk and making big efforts to change the way I think and act, then the lingering habits and romanticised notions of losing more weight, packing in the idea of "recovery".

I don't know if it's because I am scared of what recovery would really mean, or if I don't believe it's possible for me or if it's simply (ha- not "simply") the nature of anorexia itself to dig it's claws in every opportunity it gets.

Does anyone else find themselves doing this?

I am a little apprehensive of posting this. I don't want this to be construed as me NOT wanting recovery- I guess I am just struggling to get to grips with giving up my eating disorder. For many reasons. I think I had kind of hoped that having made the decision to get well no matter WHAT it took, it would somehow be easier.

I have to admit that this train of thought was prompted by me weighing myself this morning and seeing a significant change from yesterday which completely freaked me out.

Moving right now is a REALLY good thing for me and would be a GREAT opportunity for me to start afresh with the progress I've made recently and the support I'll have, yet my mind immediately jumps to how I will have the freedom to let anorexia run riot with no intervention.

(Possibly partly the idea that I will be by myself for the most part, and it's easier to give into my thoughts/urges than admit how scared I am that I'm going to fall apart without any type of accountability).

Tell Me What I'm Worth

Yes, you. The pieces of plastic, wires and metal welded together, placed oh-so-carefully at the foot of my bed. Tell me if I am good enough, worthy of eating, worthy of having fun, worthy of sitting and watching TV instead of exercising. Tell me if I am taking up too much space, tell me if I should skip a snack later. Tell me if it's okay to put dressing on my salad, milk in my cereal. Tell me if I am safe, tell me if it's going to be a good.

While you are at it, can you predict Saturday night's lottery numbers? Perhaps the weather for tomorrow? Can you tell me what the score for the game on Sunday will be?

What's that? A "no"? You can't predict the future? Oh, I get it. You can only measure ME. My worth, my value, my place in this world. You can only tell me the stuff I can figure out myself or with the help from my friends and family.

Yes, yes, I hear what you are saying. I need to know, every day, the second I wake up, what you have to say about the day ahead. How you see it panning out. I need your flashing number embedded in my brain as I go about my day. Or do I?

************

Why do we give so much power to something so worthless? Sure, scales can be helpful. I can't bake muffins without them. They can measure, in a limited capacity, health. But not really. They don't tell you if you have lost 5lbs of water weight or if someone yanked out your spleen during the night. Just that there is a 5lb difference. They can't tell me if my heart and kidneys have grown stronger or if that 2lb difference is due to the soda I just drank. They are really very limited indeed. And yet, every.damn.morning, I stand tenderly on the surface. Scared of what it will tell me, scared of how the information will be interpreted in my head, scared of the shape my day will take if the number is "wrong" (note to self: it's always wrong, because there IS no "right").

Heh. Not tomorrow. Tomorrow is a scale-free day. I'm not going to abandon you forever, but I'm going to try a day without your input. No, I won't magically balloon up in one day without your shadow cast over me for one day. The world won't end, my day won't be chaotic and crazy and out of control. I'll be exactly the same, just with a little more peace of mind.