Today is a therapy day. I’m supposed to disclose my weight to my therapist and it’s caused quite the uproar in my brain this past week. He wants to get some other professionals involved and make this more of a “team effort”. There are so many things I need to do to fix all of this, but I feel powerless. I feel rooted.
When I quit drinking, I struggled with my routine. I craved the sweet release of two bottles of cheap, grocery store chardonnay and the comfort of the couch (or floor if I was exercising). The first six months of sobriety were exciting and awful all in one fell swoop. I missed the happy hours and social drinking, but craved the early morning/non hangover jogs and the power of being able to Just Say No.
These past sixth months of sobriety have been off the radar. I really don’t even think about drinking except to revel in how relieved I am to have quit. I’m relieved because I don’t have to stress about the amount of calories in drinks. Cut out my two-bottle of wine dinner and you’ve got a healthy zero calorie night! I didn’t consciously make that decision, but the deeper I relapsed into this eating disorder, that’s what happened. I quit eating the way I quit drinking: with sheer determination. Happy Hours and social drinking were a thing of the past, so I quit being social all together.
Everything is connected in this mass of tangles inside my head. It’s like that team building game where everyone stands in a circle, grasps hands across it and tries to unwind the bundle of knots without letting go. That is my brain – an exercise in team building. When will all the parts work together, though? What exactly do I need to do?
Quitting drinking improved my life ten-fold. Somehow, I thought that quitting eating would fix something, too. It didn’t. It hasn’t.