A Battle Lost

I ate yesterday- quite a bit. I followed LA's plan accordingly and would have been given a gold star if I were the pigtail-wearing Kindergarten version of myself. My body filled with appropriate nourishment, I taught a great cycling class last night at my gym followed by a productive appointment with Dr. Joe.

I was back on track and feeling good. I remember thinking to myself last night, satisfied and strong: "I can do this. Food is not the enemy, and I am worth feeding."

Today, the roller coaster dipped back down. Out of the blue, and totally unexpected.

Another whole grain waffle with all-natural peanut butter, banana, and almonds went down just fine this morning. I even threw in a caloric glass of orange juice for kicks (I usually don't drink anything but water except for that damn Vitamin water LA "strongly recommends" since my electrolytes are out of whack). I felt fit from last night's cycling class and a decent lifting session. The self-loathing I had been carrying around was somewhat diminished by Dr. Joe last night. I was ready for a second day of "perfect" eating.

Until lunch time. The offending turkey-on-wheat. Damn that sandwich.

I don't know where it came from. I had even taken it from the refrigerator in the staff lounge and walked it back to my desk without much thought. But when I pulled back the foil...my eating disorder slapped me right in the face.

Tears welled up. I was suddenly not hungry. Not deserving. Anxious.

In my head: "Eat it. You can't afford to skip a meal and lose anymore weight. You did so well yesterday and this can continue!"

Anorexia: "You don't deserve it. You don't work hard enough to justify eating that. Yesterday's "splurges" are already making you fat and out of shape. Think of all the food that is just sitting in you right now..."

I wrapped it back in foil and walked the sandwich back to the fridge.

I went back to the refrigerator three times in about 20 minutes...fighting with my eating disorder in the hall. Students and coworkers walked by, totally oblivious to the internal war playing out in my head.

1:00- Stepped outside to attend a ceremony on the lawn. Returned to the fridge again. Then again.

1:30- Tears welling up again. Call LA. Left a voicemail. (Anorexia: "You're incredibly needy. She doesn't want to hear you cry about how you need strength to consume a sandwich. Get it together, no one wants to hear your sob story again. She'll stop helping you if she thinks you are not trying hard enough.")

1:45- Thinking to myself: "This is absolutely insane. Eat the f%&# sandwich, for the LOVE OF GOD."

1:52- Another trip to the fridge. Came back empty-handed.

2:00- I leave for a meeting, thinking "I'll just eat when I get back..."

Hours later, my stomach is still empty. I attempted to eat a few raw vegetables at my desk to cover my guilt.

The tagline on my blog says this is an honest account of anorexia recovery. There you have it. The internal war between me and anorexia.

I lost that battle. The next will come at dinner time and I need to win that one.