I shut down. The past three days I've kept my cell phone off and refrained from using the computer. I just wanted to be alone to think, is that so wrong? I'm tired-- mentally. I feel like I'm carrying the weight of the world on my back. That friends, family and my team are constantly over my shoulder, whispering their input and concerns. I often think, 'What about me? When do I get a say in all of this recovery mess? Why can't I just catch a break?' However, I do know the truth. I don't get a break from recovery. There won't be a time for me to just be me-- without limits. I will be watched through a magnified lens, constantly. Though I know this as the reality, there is such a big part of me that refuses to accept it. Ahh, acceptance. Here we go again.
Yesterday, I cried before my therapy session even began. I sat in the waiting room flipping through pages of my novel, without internalizing one word. As each page turned, I visualized my life flashing before my eyes. "I don't know if I can do this anymore", I cried. "I need a break." But do I really have a choice? Do I have to wake up every morning with the pain and fear that the day will bring challenges, even misery? My therapist would say, "Yes, until you realize it will only get easier and easier." I wish there was a pause button, one that could put life on hold, so that I could have a moment to breathe-- to be me, without rules and limitations. I hate feeling trapped. Thus, the brief disappearance. Hopefully this weekend will bring joy and positive energy my way as I escape for a couple of days. Then, perhaps, I'll feel rejuvenated and ready to embrace the new week, knowing it won't be easy. Because perhaps I view my problems as magnified. Maybe, just maybe, it's not so bad as it seems.
As a side note, I wanted to briefly mention a realization I came across. Last night, I saw the film "Precious", and thought about all those who believe eating disorders are about vanity. Comments such as, "are you maintaining?" and "Just eat and stop exercising for awhile" assure me that even those whom I'm closest to, just don't get it. I don't blame them, because I can't comprehend the disorder most times. An eating disorder is comparable to alcoholism and drug abuse because it's a coping mechanism-- it's an escape. Eating disorders are the most deadly of mental illnesses, do people really believe we choose to kill ourselves, slowly? Taken into consideration, I think that although something might hurt so badly, sometimes letting it go feels like it will hurt even more.
I'm still confused. I'm still tired. I'm still wanting to curl up in a ball and hide. But I know I can't hide forever. The magnifying glass will find me, eventually.