Big Steps

Do you ever wonder how much you could possibly do without your ED? I did all the time; I never thought I was anything with or without it. I'm nothing special, I'm not winning the Nobel Prize or anything. I screw up even the simplest tasks - the only thing I was good at was losing weight and hating everyone. I had never accomplished anything great before ED, so why was everyone telling me life would be better without him? Was recovery supposed to be some sort of cosmic phenomenon that would happen where suddenly I was supposed to be somebody when I started eating?




I took on pizza for the first time in three years this past Monday. I made the dough and everything with my mom and sister. My goal is to be able to order a pizza with my family the night my other sister comes back from her internship in Japan in August. She misses North American food, so before she goes back to school in September we want to treat her as much as we can - pizza is one of those things. I want to enjoy it with my family and my sister who I have come to miss so very much. I don't want to make something else for myself, I want to eat what they are eating and just enjoy my family's company without worrying about how much fat or calories are in it or how may grain servings I had earlier that day. So I am taking baby steps, beginning with making the pizza with my family.


I wanted to have total control of what was going on/in the pizza. If I know exactly what it is made of and how it is made, it takes some if the mystery out and makes me feel more in control. We put a minimal amount of cheese on, so next time I want to try putting more on; I mean, what's a pizza without a TON of cheese, right?


So this was a particularly difficult mountain to climb for me. This came with a lot of anxiety and a lot of emotions. During the preparation process I couldn't help but hear ED say "You can't do it! I know you can't!" "Just call it off now, tell mom you're going to just makes eggs" "You have already had enough fatty foods today, I sincerely doubt you need more". 
I was able to combat this with some of the things I had learned in my nutrition class. I just kept saying to myself "There is no such thing as good foods or bad foods. Everything is good in moderation. Food is just energy, fuel, a means to survive - it can't hurt you if you moderate. Different foods are just a different way of getting energy and I need all the energy and focus I can get for my driving test tomorrow."
When the pizza was done coking it was time to cut it and eat it. Sitting at the table I thought I was going to be sick. I felt so anxious that my stomach was doing flips and turns. My mind kept racing and I kept thinking "Oh my god, how many grain servings have I had today, what about dairy servings??" "How many slices count as one grain serving? Or a dairy serving?" Each bite was hard, but it got easier as I ate my piece of pizza.
When I was done I kept thinking "OH MY GOD GET IT OUT OF ME!!!!!" Ed chimed in of course; "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!?!?!!" "Get to the bathroom quick and purge that shit out of your body!!!!!"


I am thankful for my sister who was so supportive and encouraging. She helped me remember that this was a victory, not a mistake or a means of being weak and giving in to my inner fat kid. I needed that energy. I needed the veggies on the pizza. I needed the cheese and the dough. My body needs nourishment, even if it's a bit fattier than some baby carrots. All food is good in moderation.


The next day I had my driving test. I was so nervous that my hands were actually shaking. This time three years ago I wasn't allowed to drive; wasn't even able to. I couldn't stay awake for longer than about 10 minutes. I would fall asleep at the dinner table with food in my mouth because my body was so weak and exhausted. Driving in that condition was a disaster waiting to happen, an inevitable car wreck. It was just a bad idea.


I was in good enough shape to drive on and off in the years after until recently when I have been doing great. I decided since my licence was about to expire and I was finally healthy that now was a good a time as any to get  my full licence; and that's what I did. As of 10:30 AM yesterday I am now a fully licenced driver and have been on cloud nine ever since.


It was when I got my licence that I realised that this was what recovery is all about. Not doing something spectacular or being someone magnificent - it's about being me. We are not all Ghandi's in the making, nor are we Hillary Clinton or Jennifer Lawrence. I am Stephanie and that is good enough for me. I want to be the best I can be and do the best that I can, and I can't possibly do that with ED. How could I have gotten my licence if I didn't fuel my body? How could I have even gotten out of bed in the first place?
What I didn't realise was that the person I was going to be when I started to recover was me, and that I was going to accomplish life without ED. ED's been holding me back this whole time and I didn't even realise because I didn't realise that I had a life waiting to be lived right in front of me the whole time. I don't know about finding the cure for cancer, but I know that I can still make accomplishments of my own and they feel wonderful - so much more than how losing a pound could ever make me feel.


It's time to leave ED for good. ED needs to get the fuck out of my life because there is no room for him anymore. I continued with my rebellion tonight when I went to the movies with my sis and ate movie theatre popcorn for the first time in forever. This bitch is on a role, and I don't intend to stop anytime soon!