Who falls again

I rewrote the post about relapse a bit and decided to post it after all. Warning: I have another tendinitis and my sister has no more patience with ED in our house and makes it pretty obvious = I am not very optimistic fed up with everything (mostly myself) right now. I don't say absolutely nothing new or insightful in this post. It basically is prolonged persuading myself to keep going. Here we go. 


1. Who falls again. And how. 


Wikipedia says: A relapse (etymologically, "who falls again") occurs when a person is affected again by a condition that affected him, or her, in the past. 

It's not how many times you fall that matters, it's how many time you get back up.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Every time I read these kind of quotes I want to yell: Oh really? It sounds really wise and maybe it works in healthy people, but constant falling and struggling to get back on track and not seeing an end of it isn't much of a life. Anorexia has not killed me and in some aspects it has made me stronger, but I won't say this kind of acquiring strength is what someone would wish for. 

It is not very clever to argue with omniscient Wikipedia or old wisdoms, but I say: it is never A relapse. It always is The Relapse. Individual. Morphing like eating disorder behavior itself. Scary. It is very complicated to define or classify it. 

I absolutely didn't see first relapse coming/happening. One week you feel super strong, finally having an almost normal life of a 17 year old, second week just little bit low and third week life is bad dream, you can't eat and you can't sleep and you can't be awake and only thought that keeps you survive a never-ending day and never-ending emptiness is the thought about a perspective of ending your life (and couple of hours later, in the night, your heart is going mad and your chest is burning and you beg God to not let you die that night, because Mom doesn't deserve it). Couple of years (and kilograms, hope and trust lost and regained) later I let myself gradually slip and I was at least half-aware of where I was heading to; starving myself was at that time simply (haha) more bearable than the anxiety. Sometimes I've fought back and avert the coming relapse. Sometimes I've given up. Some of my relapses or lapses were triggered by some stresses or situations, but generally I am a kind of person that can sing: Good Times Are Killing me (even without LSD), because I tend to do better under stress and slip when I have long holiday or too much free time (free time became in the mean time really stressful for me).

2. Is this real? 

I think now I know myself and the tricks my mind is able to play better after the years and I live, but I don't feel stronger. 

Actually I feel pretty drained, fed up and tired. 

Moreover, I am afraid (as always when I slip a bit) that what others think is depression and anxiety is just my social laziness, inability to challenge myself properly, me being spoiled and void and superficial and having low threshold for stress tolerance, that it is just abnormal coping mechanism and not a real disease. 

Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real? 

-Dumbledore 

3. Reasons for not falling.

Right now everything in my head is screaming how easier and calmer and more predictable my days would have been if I allowed myself to eat little bit less and/or let my exercise go to typical pre-2009 summer (=crazy) mode. Just a few weeks before you start work. The tricky thing is that I know it works. It works for a while. Like a drug that makes my anxiety levels drop and my mood marvelously stable. For a while. For a while before the calmness becomes frost. 

And at the same time I have so many objective reasons to keep myself as far from the verge of anorexia abyss as possible: 

• My family. My dear friends. Enough said.

• I think a lot about patients. Actually about people. All these people that were patients when I was in the school and thus helped me to finish it. About people who are (my) future patients. Every single cell of my body wants so madly to help them, to make the last 6 years of my life useful, to learn more, grow up, face challenges, make a little difference in someone's life. (Which does not mean every single cell is not fucking scared out of their scull membrane). To make this job properly, I need to take care of myself, both physically and mentally.

• There is writing. Piles of scribbles in the box under my bed and couple of bites (well tons of them) in my computer that I am scared to call novel and not sure what to do with it when it is finished, but it is important for me to finish it. 

• This winter I felt so physically strong. In January I just took my running shoes and tried to run 10 km on the stadium with a friend. The air was so cold and I felt weird, because last time I was running on this stadium I was very underweight. During the run my mind was spinning even faster than my legs: I (unfortunately) still somehow missed my old body (or better: I miss the missing parts of it), but the feeling of running really fast and not feeling dizziness or cramps in calves was so worth it. Moreover, we did the 10 km in just 47 minutes without really trying hard which makes the theory: (substantially LESS exercise + proper nutrition = better stamina) somehow palpable. I want it back. 

• In winter I felt like I was ready for a relationship. Or at least for thinking about it, not turning down invitations etc. I didn't seek actively for it, but I feel that it is a topic. There was a space in my head for these thoughts. There was confidence. Now the space and confidence are gone again and I really really am scared that the longer I am living without a boyfriend, the harder it will be in the future to find someone.

4. I am pretending I am my very own therapist. (Everyone is.)

I haven't had a therapist for the longest period of time since I got ill and it may be a problem (I don't know, it is probably something for another post), but if I had one, he/she would insert here: 

• Recognizing a relapse is first and scary, but most important step to get better, so actually you did a good job (+ me thinking something about how I would love to skip this never-ending first step(s) and how being recovered, being THERE is good job.)
• Not letting yourself slip is worth and necessary even if NOTHING was on your list. 
• It is good you think and write about it, but you can rarely think yourself out of a relapse. Go do. 
• I may discuss dopamine with you but eat the snack first, ok? There are important molecules in the bread and cheese and tomatoes as well, did you know that?  
• Try harder. Rest harder. Try again. 
• Considering I am imaginary (and despite you think you know better) you need someone to kick your ass kick anorexia's nonexistent ass more or less professionally with you. Go tell someone in addition to this blog what's going on. Don't pretend you are your own therapist.

I am crazy.