CW: (see title), anxiety, body stuff
Living with an eating disorder during quarantine is weird. Layer on general life stressors and it gets complicated.
I’m tired of hearing about the “quarantine 15” and people concerned about weight gain, losing muscle mass, etc. This is my own mental exhaustion as I’m doing my best to manage my expectations and self care and not get wrapped up in those fears myself. While they chew at the back of my brain, it’s very quiet. It surprises me (as only being background noise) and I’m grateful for it. I want to come out on the other side alive.
I look towards Jameela Jamil and i weigh for stories and messages about doing the best we can and loving the bodies we have. I appreciate my strength and over time and therapy moved to a mental space that my body is powerful to go hike mountains and spin classes and accomplishes so much! Food though? Some days I eat like a Rockstar, others I just want a cake bath (Jameela endorsed) but who really wants to bathe in cake? It sounds awfully messy and sticky and couldn’t I just rest upon layers and layers of angel food cake like a cloud on the floor and eat a slice of Deru Market chocolate cake with salted peanut butter icing out of a box with my hands like a civilized person? Although there is an allure of a tub and candles and whatever music will put my mind at rest with cake. Another contributing factor, I really dislike my 80s pre-fab tub that only a toddler could really relax in.
Self care
The last week or two, I have been struggling to feed myself. Some days the energy it takes to grab something easy like a banana or cheese or bread with peanut butter feels impossible. Some days I can make part of a meal, sandwich and banana? Rice and beans? Knowing I’ll be in a calorie deficit by bedtime.
It scares me.
Because I want to believe it is short-lived and that tomorrow will be better. Two-ish weeks is a long time to be wishing something different when I wake up. Muscle memory, even decades old, is frightening. To lean in and move through this period is hard.
Saying it out loud, screaming into the internets, will likely take away some of its power. Eating disorders are about secrecy. Even if you know the person across from you is suffering, they are working extra hard to make it all seem normal (and part of the delusion) Before writing this, 2 people knew I’m struggling right now. I have offers to be brought food like a contactless delivery, or to sit 6 feet apart on the lawn and eat with me. These are incredibly loving and caring offers that blow my mind. It is one thing to admit I’m not eating well, it’s entirely different to accept support.
Tomorrow will be another day, sharing openly this struggle, and considering what I will do to take care of myself. Nothing about this is easy. Nothing.
