I had a blog post planned out in my head earlier today. But now it is late and I'm post-medication plus tired from all the coughing (body has decided to develop another chest infection).
However, I just read a post from a blog I've not previously read. I'm going to link to it because it's a thought-provoking read on the contradictions inherent in struggling with an ED while attempting to live by feminist ideals: ED, me and feminism
That's just one of the many contradictions that become part of life with an ED. From the elderly consultant psychiatrist who told me I was too intelligent to be anorexic: "you are clever enough to know that you have to eat" to the current confusion in my own head as I hate my body for this damned cough and for not being well enough to do the things I love ... while simultaneously knowing and rejecting that physical healing and recovery are hindered by poor diet.
And the thoughts I'd had about blogging earlier surrounded the way that this stage, the stage that Ilona described so eloquently in the Independent, feels so much worse than either letting the illness win or than being better. Because every choice is a failure in some respect. If I have a scoop of frozen yoghurt, one side of my brain is telling me that I'm a greedy failure, a lazy pig for eating; the other side wants me to be guilty for not trying enough, for not being better enough, for letting down the community of people online who are working for recovery. And this same dichotomised mixture of self-critical, self-loathing feelings occurs with every stage of the day from waking up to now, at midnight, when I struggle to find anything positive about my actions today. I'm failing at being anorexic; I'm failing at recovery. Rational brain knows that this is perfectionist thinking and that most people would say that maintaining a pattern of eating and no dramatic weight loss is fine. In fact, this is the party line from the MH professionals ... because if you are classified SEED, they believe that this is as good as it gets.
But to be honest, that doesn't make it feel any better. Trying to imagine this state of conflict being the best I can hope for and, therefore, the way that I will spend the rest of my life is pretty desolate, which can lead to some very desolate thoughts.
It sounds stupid but this is where my dogs are so important. Even when my life feels pointless, I know that the dogs need me. I'm the only human that Midgy will trust and she is happiest when she's close to me. It may be a stupid reason to keep on fighting through this. But it is a reason and I'm keeping on fighting.