Eating Disorder, Thanksgiving, and Spending it Alone

Spending the Holidays alone may not be as bad as it sounds. Thanksgiving is probably the most popular holiday to spend with family. They all get together, sit around, chat, laugh, drink, eat. I opted out of today.

I did get up, I went to my family’s house, saw my brothers and sister, loved on the dogs, went on a walk, then left.

The original plan was to all go to my grandmother’s house where my Aunt, Uncle and cousins would also join us for Thanksgiving. I hadn’t even been at the house long and my parents were arguing and fighting, my grandmother told me last year while I was in treatment, “You treated me better when you had an eating disorder.” And, “You realized walking in to that place they thought your mom was the patient and not you, right?”. It was very deliberately hurtful and mean, and unfortunately, I am not sure if I can get over that feeling. My grandmother is an awful cook, smothering everything in butter, and my aunt and one cousin who is vegan. That was all I needed, somebody reprimanding everyone else for what they chose to eat. I didn’t want to drive over an hour to her house, I didn’t want to make bullshit conversation, watch from the sidelines as my entire family acted fake, and grandmom pretended as if everything was perfect in her delusional world.

I went home and did some work since the Dr would be expecting stuff to be done tomorrow. I started veggie soup in the crock pot, cleaned, lit candles, watched Once Upon a Time, and started a fire. It was a typical day for me, and I enjoyed it. Honestly? I did restrict. I just wasn’t feeling it today. I wanted to relax, not worry, just enjoy today without work, or stressful family drama.

Mom and I made a couple jokes about what to tell everyone when they asked where I was. “Tell them I’m calling out of Thanksgiving because I’m anorexic.” “Well, just tell grandma that you don’t know, and I guess I treated her better when I had an eating disorder.” Honestly, there just weren’t enough fucks to give today. I enjoyed my time alone, eating the usual stuff, and just relaxing.

 

I hope you all had a terrific Thanksgiving!

Trust the Process and do what’s best for you!!!

People Not My Age

Ever since I can remember I have gotten along with the elderly and the very young. People my own age? Not so much.

Halloween night approached. I sat on my bed watching my favorite movie ever, My Cousin Vinny, drinking green tea and knitting. Somewhere between, “What are you, a fucking world traveler?!” and “It’s me or them, you’re getting fucked one way or the other.” I received a text from an old friend:

"Hey, a bunch of us
are getting together
tonight for Halloween
if you wanna come party." 

I read the message and thought about it for a few minutes. Finally I decided, “I am a college student, legally allowed to drink, on Halloween night, when did I become 60?” So I came up with a costume, grabbed a 6 pack and headed to his house, unsure of exactly where he had moved to.

Long story short, I got lost, he didn’t answer his phone, I hated what I was wearing. An hour later, I was home, with a six pack, watching NetFlix, hating my life, body, self, and enjoying an Angry Orchard.

Pity Party-1
Me- 0

The next morning I jumped up, ran to the mirror and did an immediate body check. I have an irrational fear that eating or drinking will cause a massive explosion and I will swell and immediately have gained 20 lbs over night. To my disgust and excitement, my ribs were still visibly protruding, and yet my gut was still there, pudgy bastard. My family was going out of town for my grandmother’s funeral. The beloved devil step-child offered to stay behind and watch the animals and the house. I hate my step-dad’s side of the family anyway. So, I packed a bag, and headed to my house which would have long been empty of parental units and siblings.

I took the dog on a run, bought a vest, and got back to the house and scrubbed, and scrubbed. I wanted to keep busy. The thought of being a loser, not fitting in, the fact that my eating disorder is fucking with so many aspects of my life. To say the least, the bathrooms in my parent’s house is spotless, along with the kitchen.

I distinctly remember all of the years I hated bringing in firewood, the jabs in my arms, going outside in the cold to go grab it, getting flakes of wood everywhere. My step dad, I was positive, found such joy in giving me this task. It seemed like forever ago. I took care of the chickens, fed them, gave them hay, water, collected eggs. I made homemade bread. Carried in a plethora of wood and made a fire. Then, I sat on the couch, enjoyed my steaming tea, my cabin socks.

I realized how much I loved it all. The dogs sitting with me, the quiet of everything, the loudest thing being the crackling of the fire. Enjoying my tea.

I’d rather play board games with kids, or sip tea with the elderly.

I’m not a partier. That just isn’t me. I mentally can’t consume all of those calories. I’ll take my fire-starting, bread making, dog walking, chicken feeding days anytime.