I'm back with my eating disorder nutritionist. Scary stuff...admitting backsliding, binging, purging and restricting. Failure. But she didn't yell. She didn't berate me. She didn't do anything but ask what I might be able to do to get going again. So the basics it is: 1. Eat breakfast within an hour of waking. 2. Eat every 3 hours. 3. Eat protein at least 4 times a day. 4. Stay hydrated.
Sounds easy enough. But when you've not been doing ANY of them, each is a hurdle. Some days I hit them all...some days I manage to make the mark on a couple (or one).
This week I've also added the goal of exploring how I can better my self care through my eating habits. I used to enjoy planning my meals and putting themtogether. I found great satisfaction in preparing a meal for myself, eating it and knowing that I did that simple act for just myself. Sometime in the last couple of months I lost that. Sunday I felt a twinge of it as I prepped veggies for munching. I had such a sense of completeness when I had finished washing, cutting and putting away the veggies thatI couldenjoy later, knowing that they would be ready for me when I wanted them. This week, I'm going to make a meal. Not a frozen meal. Not a restaurant meal. Something that I have to put a few things together to create a final taste. For myself. For my own satisfaction.
And now the left foot...
Working on my resume. Crocheting my meditation shawls. Taking mymedson a regular schedule. Chomping on my vitamins--all of them. Reading a book. [What? Reading a book? Yep! Hasn't happened in nearly 7 months. My concentration is back a bit.] Coming out of my self-imposed exile. Or trying to.
My social calendar looks like all I do is meet for coffee and lunch. Um...yes, that would be correct. But it gets me out. It gets me eating. It puts me in the real world, not just the cocoon of my home and my mind. I didn't realize how much I've isolated myself the last six weeks until nearly everyone I know has said to me "where have you been"..."what's going on"..."why don't you call"... Busted. I've seen people. But only a couple. Maybe because those people that I could be/should be talking to would know that something is/was up. And I wasn't ready to be exposed. I love those people. I miss those people. I will be in touch with them when I'm not so tender.
In the midst of my own drama, I watch and participate in the lives of others. Because I must. Because I cannot completely disengage my emotions. I have friends struggling with depression--and I can only offer words of "I know how you feel"...because I do. My grandfather has had a stroke in his eye that left him partially blind and led to the discovery of a more serious heart issue. My mother fears my grandmother is having small strokes. My dear friend burns the candle in "five spots" she says...and we all know what happens when we burn it from just two ends.
The world is bigger than me. My problems are not the only ones. I travel these crooked roads with others, each burdened in their own way. In the end, I take comfort in knowing that we are all each others angels.