I’m exhausted. I know, I know. That seems to be the human condition these days: everyone is tired. But honestly, I haven’t felt this bad physically since the depths of my eating disorder. I’m worn out, dizzy, weepy, and a flight of stairs can do me in. My naturopath says this is normal, as everything in my body and mind is shifting, and the only remedy is rest.
Rest. Totally got it. Work a 9 hour shift, sit on my ass for the rest of the night. Go to yoga, do a bridge instead of full wheel. Go to ballet, do single pirouettes instead of triples and mark the jumps.
Apparently, that’s not resting. I don’t know how to rest. Even now, as I recline on my couch, I’m doing research, cleaning, and blogging. I’m constantly terrified of what my mind will do if I let it be. I can deal with it in controlled doses, but if I gave it free run of the place, who knows what it will come up with? I prefer my brain safely battery-caged. And if I don’t exercise . . . well, there’s no telling what my body would do. It’s a process.
Interesting things have been happening emotionally, too. It’s funny how out-of-control exhaustion makes me feel. Historically, I have tried to control my emotions through silence or cover them with a mask of anger. If you’re silent, nobody knows you’re feeling anything. If you’re angry, people leave you alone. But if you’re sad . . . people can sense weakness and exploit it. It’s a dangerous thing.
Yesterday, in group, I decided to try to express myself without using anger to cover it. My usual response to everything: “This is BULLSHIT! This doesn’t actually work for real people. I’m SO DONE!”. Not so productive, but it’s my way of saying “I disagree, I don’t understand, I’m feeling hopeless” without sobbing. Yesterday, I tried the latter. And sobbed. And sobbed. I don’t remember the last time I cried that hard. It kind of sucked. But you know what? Don’t tell WGT, but I actually feel somewhat better. When I don’t let it out, I ruminate and just get angrier until I explode. When I explode, I feel like an asshole, and hate myself even more.
So now I’m living with sadness. I’m really sad. I have a lot of years of unexpressed emotions to work through, and it’s not going to be an easy or fun process, but on the other side of fear is freedom. Gotta hope.
Be Anything But Quiet! 
There’s a book called Meditation Made Easy by Lorin Roche that has been very very helpful for me – made meditating a pleasure rather than a pain – of getting annoyed with myself for not doing it ‘right’. “impositon just makes a person more restless” he says. You might want to get a hold of it. xnicky tess’s mom
Thanks Mama Nicky. I’ll look into it for sure xo
I’m so glad that you’re letting yourself feel. It’s a hugely scary thing, but once you let the emotions out, you can start to sort through them, and even start to understand them.
I gave up on recovery the first time because I was so frustrated that there wasn’t just a magic pill that would make all of the bad feeling go away. I wanted to be “cured,” as if it were possible to completely wipe the slate clean, change my thoughts, erase my past. And I thought (to myself), “this is bullshit,” so I left.
Now I’m learning that this is something we will have to deal with our whole lives–just like an alcoholic who celebrates every day he does not take a drink, so I will celebrate every day I do not restrict myself or engage in negative self-talk or obsessive exercise.
But I’m so glad that you’re willing to have hope–that’s the only magic pill that will get you through. We may never find a way to get ED out of our lives entirely, but we WILL find a way to live around it, past it, through it, one day at a time.
I agree wholeheartedly. It’s so exhausting putting in the work every minute of every day, but it’s the only thing that will work. And that is something to believe in. xo
“. . . hope-that’s the only magic pill that will get you through” I have never thought of hope as the magic pill that actually exists. I like the thought. Thanks!
Beautiful post Kelly. I think you and I have more in common than we know. As you’ve stated, this is a process and through this process we need to break ourselves down and build ourselves back up, and it’s terrifying to think what a moment of pure relaxation can do within the mind. It’s a painful process but the personal gains and growth make it all worth it.
You are a beautiful writer. I love reading your posts.:)
Thanks, Er. We should actually sit down and drink tea together sometime. xo
I totally agree 🙂
I love your blog, mainly because I relate to it so much. Partly because your writing is infectious, and partly because it’s complete truth. I have no idea how I came to find it, casually flipping through the internet like one would aimlessly flip though channels on a tv probably, regardless, I enjoy it. It seems only fair that since I have a glimpse into your recovery, you’d like a peek into mine. mkoruna.blogspot.com. Hope you enjoy it just as much, keep trekking on, no matter how hard it is love.
Thanks, Melissa. Just checked your blog out and will definitely be returning. Please keep holding on. xo
Kelly, I’m so sorry you’re having a tough time…know there are many of us who love you and are lifting you up in prayer, in thought, in energy. Be who you are feel what you need to feel. And if folks don’t like it, let me know and I’ll smite ’em! *hugs*
Thanks, Andrea. Smite them, almighty smiter!