Recovery sucks because of the aftermath of my eating disorder.
Recovery sucks because even though I know I need to be eating double the calories, I just can't.
Recovery sucks because of Osteopenia and I hate the taste of milk.
Recovery sucks because I'm in pain all the time.
Recovery sucks because I fucked up my metabolism.
Recovery sucks because 2 years later, Ana is still there (in the background, but there).
Recovery sucks because I cry myself to sleep 9 nights out of 10.
Recovery sucks because I still HATE MY FUCKING BODY!
Alright, I know; it's been so long since I've written here
I apologize for that
The purpose of this post is not in anyway to turn anyone away from recovery,
But more of a look at what this disease has left me with.
Where to begin? How about that I've been regularly working out for over 6 months now.
My workouts don't contain cardio, well besides jumping jacks.
Initially I started lifting to tone,
But then I realized that I could tone, gain muscle, not fat, and reach a "normal" weight.
Since I quit breastfeeding Syrsha a year ago in May,
My weight has not went below 96lbs, however,
My weight also hasn't gone above 101.
And I'm frustrated.
I downloaded My Fitness Pal
But this time I changed my goals.
I entered in that my goal weight is 110,
And to gain a half pound a week.
2,090 calories a day, 40% Protein, 30% Fat and 30% Carbs.
Realistically, this is about what my average day looks like...
1,400 calories a day, 35% Protein, 25% Fat and 40% Carbs.
I can never seem to win.
And why all the details, and what brought me to this rant?
The fact that I'm 2 or so years into recovery,
And I'm still struggling every fucking day.
I still cry when I look at myself in the mirror,
I still cry when I realize that Ana is still in my life.
I still cry because my boobs used to be a 38C
And now...lol....now, I've got fucking nothing!
And as materialistic or silly as this sounds,
My boobs are the reason why I'm so fucking upset.
I can't even take my bra off in front of my own husband
Without that lump in my throat that I'm about to freak out.
Does he really care?
He says he doesn't,
But also says he misses the way they used to be.
He loves me no matter what.
But when I look back to almost 5 years ago when I met him,
I was this woman with curves, boobs, and a light in my eyes.
And because of my fucking eating disorders,
I am a woman with zero curves, virtually nothing in my bra, and the light is very dim.
Am I depressed?
Probably.
Do I even have the time of day to be depressed?
Fuck no.
In fact, this post has been in my head for a couple of weeks now,
But as if the aftermath of my eating disorders isn't enough,
Life is just shitting on me in almost every other aspect of my life.
But lets not get into that, this post has been long enough.
I made a doctors appointment, finally.
After almost 7 weeks with this migraine that never goes away.
After taking Excederin up to 3 times a day,
And getting the Daith piercing.
I don't really know what else to say,
Except that I'm sorry.
I know I've been gone,
But more just lurking.
I've been reading, but not commenting.
I wouldn't be surprised if this post gets lost amongst the feed
Of more active bloggers.
XOXO Katie
