It seems like every time I embark on the road to recovery I never stick with it for very long. Sometimes my decision to recover is influenced by how I am feeling at a particular moment or sometimes it is spurred because of a certain event. No matter what the factor, it always seems like I am looking for a reason to recover. As if that should somehow be a legitimate enough excuse to change the way I’m living.
I guess I feel like if I don’t have a good enough reason to recover then I am really just cheating myself and stupidly giving up my eating disorder when I don’t have to. Like I was tricked into changing. Sigh. It just all seems so confusing….
Anyways, right now I am feeling that certain “push” to start recovering again. Over the course of just a few short months I have managed to diet myself down to my lowest weight ever. This was due mainly to overexercise and falling headfirst for the lies set up to ensnare me.
I can pretty much pinpoint exactly where I first started heading downhill. It all began with the part-time job I was working at over the winter and into the summer. Because the job was extremely unproductive and unsatisfying and I basically did nothing all day long, I began worrying about the amount of exercise I was doing. Pretty soon that led into me believing that I needed to increase my cardio on the days I was working, sometimes straining my body so hard that I would collapse on the couch when I got home.
Then, largely because of the extremely negative experience with the job, I began believing that I needed to be constantly moving all day long. Soon I found that I could no longer be immobile, if you will, for longer than 2 hours at a time. I couldn’t watch T.V., I couldn’t read a book. I couldn’t do anything without feeling extreme guilt for not being in motion, active, productive. I couldn’t even study.
It SUCKED SUCKS.
And then slowly I found myself unintentionally increasing my cardio. It started just a little bit at a time. An extra few minutes on a walk, a couple walks at night, a little bit longer on cardio. Soon I found myself trapped, unable to stop. Exercise no longer became something that I did to strengthen my body, improve my fitness, or alleviate stress. It became an obligation. An obsession. A requirement. I had to do it. Everyday for the same amount of time. No matter what.
I hate that I was so naiive. So stupid. I remember hating my body and thinking how fat I was and how I needed to change. Some days I would feel extremely fit and lean and toned, and others I felt so squishy and bulky and just plain gross. I was never satisfied with my body and I never felt like I was doing enough. I always had to do more.
And so gradually my exercise time increased to what it is now. Every day I have to exercise for at least 2 hours. Not all once mind you but spread out throughout the entire day. That makes 3 long walks, and one intense sesh of cardio. I used to do weight lifting 2 days a week but that just becamse so cumbersome and tiring, and I was spending so much time on cardio that by the time I was done with that I didn’t have time for anything else.
I wish I could stop. I want to stop. Practically every day I cringe cry at the thought of having to crank out one more round, pound through one more exercise. But after a while, no matter how much I dread the thought of going out again, I am so overcome with guilt and worry and anxiety that I forget about being tired and start exercising. I just keep going. And I can’t stop.
The worst thing is that now I see and know what the constant overuse, stress and strain is doing to my body. I am slowly killing myself. My knees give out on me frequently when I walk, there is a dull aching pain at the ball of my right foot that hasn’t gone away for some time now, my right knee sometimes locks on me when I’m walking, and regularly a sharp, sickening pain shoots up my legs and around my knees.
I’m only 20 years old but I have the body of aging, 50 year old woman.
Damn I hate ANOREXIA!!!