It's official: I've been weight-restored for a year now. I don't have an exact date, as I bounced around in and out of the bottom of my range for a bit, gaining and losing the same pound for almost a month. But my family and I pushed on, and I gained the last few pounds.
It's been a year.
I've fallen out of range every now and again, most seriously this past December. My anxiety- already through the roof from end of term stress- soared as my weight slid through the bottom. I was never more than 5 pounds under range. I gained the weight back over winter break while in New Zealand, and i have pretty much stayed in range since.
Do I feel better? Sometimes.
Do I hate being at a healthy weight? Sometimes.
Do I ever wish I could start losing weight again? Sometimes.
Do I ever feel okay with my body? Sometimes.
Do I ever seriously contemplate going back? Never.
Take heart. There is hope. I am not all better. Weight restoration was the first step- but only the first. I've been ill for eight years now, and a lot of damage must be reversed. A lot of really bad habits must still be broken. I need to relearn how to interact with the world as a healthy 27-year-old woman, not a fragile, desperately ill anorexic. I also need to figure out ways to deal with my underlying problems of mood and anxiety.
But that is the difference between then and now: I can work on them. There's actually a point to it.
No amount of weight gain will get rid of the depression* and OCD . I'm still not the greatest at dealing with them. It's hard. And I don't know that they will ever go away. But I have a starting point now.
*Is it depression? Is it bipolar disorder? Some sort of variant in between? No one knows.
It's been a year.
I've fallen out of range every now and again, most seriously this past December. My anxiety- already through the roof from end of term stress- soared as my weight slid through the bottom. I was never more than 5 pounds under range. I gained the weight back over winter break while in New Zealand, and i have pretty much stayed in range since.
Do I feel better? Sometimes.
Do I hate being at a healthy weight? Sometimes.
Do I ever wish I could start losing weight again? Sometimes.
Do I ever feel okay with my body? Sometimes.
Do I ever seriously contemplate going back? Never.
Take heart. There is hope. I am not all better. Weight restoration was the first step- but only the first. I've been ill for eight years now, and a lot of damage must be reversed. A lot of really bad habits must still be broken. I need to relearn how to interact with the world as a healthy 27-year-old woman, not a fragile, desperately ill anorexic. I also need to figure out ways to deal with my underlying problems of mood and anxiety.
But that is the difference between then and now: I can work on them. There's actually a point to it.
No amount of weight gain will get rid of the depression* and OCD . I'm still not the greatest at dealing with them. It's hard. And I don't know that they will ever go away. But I have a starting point now.
*Is it depression? Is it bipolar disorder? Some sort of variant in between? No one knows.