Love that is Deep, and High, and Wide

Today has been a marvelous, spectacular, wonderful day. The last few weeks have not been filled with such wonder and clarity; I am extremely grateful to be back in this space. Here I sit, drinking my tea, and letting my heart loose again.

The past couple of weeks have been difficult - I've been busy. It's been a great distraction, but I'm finding that when I take on too much - when I bite off more than I can chew - my "recovery work" becomes my last priority. Trying to beat the eating disorder is like a full-time job, and in addition to the job I already have, balancing my worldly tasks, relationships, and recovery has become a difficult trick.

I haven't been thinking about recovery lately - in fact, I've been enjoying a break from the intense emotional journey and work it takes. It's been a nice "release," but an unhealthy one. It feels good to not think about this damn eating disorder all the time, but not thinking about it puts ED right back in the shadows, where I continue my maladaptive eating patterns in secrecy and denial...

So, I guess the answer is the same as it always is: I need to learn some balance. Distraction is good, but I can't forget the work that needs to be done. I need to be, as a fellow soul seeker recently advised me, ruthless. I haven't been committed to this process, and I've been releasing deeply into the excuse that it's not my commitment that's wavering, but my availability.

My priorities need some shifting.
Priority one: I have to eat. I hate it. And I have to fight to keep the food that I do eat inside of me. I hate that even more. I have to eat. I have to eat. I cannot purge. That must be my first priority.
Priority two: I need to get enough sleep. I can't be rational when I'm too tired to see straight.
Priority three: I need to write about how I'm feeling, do the "work" of this process, fill in my journals and worksheets, and throw myself into this fight using the tools I'm learning.
Priority four: Live my life - love deeply and widely, play hard, and enjoy the immense joy that keeps washing over me now that I've started opening to the world again.

It seems so basic, but keeping these priorities organized is tough. The love that is flooding through me is such a wonderful change from the isolation and depression I've known in the last couple of years. It is addictive - and a great way to distract me from the work that needs doing. The love isn't the problem - it's my eating disorder's perverted use of that love to distract me from my quest to become a healthy and recovered woman.

My body is changing, and I hate it. In the last couple of weeks, I've driven myself back into a state of "safety," where ED tells me that I am protected if I starve, gain some self control and discipline, and measure my worth in the flatness of my stomach or the hollow feeling in my gut. I felt my body changing after just two weeks of more "recovered" eating - ED responded with violent panic and a plan to "get back into control."

The funny thing is, I hate being out of control. And for some reason, I've become convinced that when ED is in control, I am in control. So I love letting ED take the reigns. But here's the lie: when ED is in control, I am absolutely OUT of control.

Enter my confusion for the night. I want to feel safe. When I don't, I respond by returning to the thing that I have relied on for protection and safety for the last ten years: the man in my head who promises me life and freedom if I succumb to the disciplined eating, exercise, and work plans he has. Challenging ED means pushing the boundary of that "safety zone," and challenging my most basic assumptions. But if I do too much too fast, I freak out, and my survival response is to lean on ED again. So, what do I do? I need to learn to sit in the mess - the imperfection of my body and my life that feels "out of my control" - but if I push too hard, I enter a "danger zone" that sends me running desperately back for ED.

I've been running back a lot lately.

Today, though, I made a conscious decision to fight again... to make fighting my highest and most important piece of work in this life. I ate fried chicken last night and did not throw up - instead Jabari came and stayed with me until I fell asleep. And when I woke this morning, the sun was shining brilliantly and I felt victorious. I had done it - I had eaten something scary when I absolutely didn't believe I deserved to eat at all, and I kept it. No purging. The small victory gave me the hope that I have been desperately needing.

All day, ED has been whispering to me. And I've been listening. But I also don't want to let go of the feeling of success from last night. So I ate my cream of wheat. I even had part of a scone. I ate lunch. I drank a latte. I made myself dinner, and ate a lot, because... well... because I did. And I did not purge. Instead I planned my evening and carved space to sit with the discomfort in a safe and "doable" way. All along, ED has been whispering to me, and I'm hearing him. But the love that I'm finding - that is deep and high and wide - has been a notch louder.

My best friends in the world are coming to visit me tomorrow - I can't wait. I didn't make plans or go out of my way to make sure everything is perfect before they get here. I figure that, right now, I am whole and complete and perfect - just as I am. Trying to force things to be a certain way only sets me up to freak out when things go awry. And instead of focusing on the love my friends bring, I focus on details that are absolutely unimportant.

And I am falling in love - with a boy (holy shit, I know), and with my life in California, and with my friends both here and far away. Today I keep getting stunned with the realization that my life is so full - and it has been for a long, long time. I just haven't been awake enough to see it. Today has been marvelous - because I gave attention to my recovery first, and in doing so, I was free to run wildly through the love surrounding me. When I don't attend to my recovery first, ED holds me captive, and holds any joy or intensity at a surface level. To free myself - to release into the multitude of bird sounds and warm winds and iris varieties - I have to first acknowledge, fight, and accept ED. I have to eat. I have to cry. I have to struggle.

Because only then I am free.