I took a major step back yesterday.
I don’t know why. I woke up cocooned in my sheet like a corpse, all trapped and tied up. I’d been dreaming I was eating a packet of crackers one after the other and I just couldn’t stop, so I can’t tell you the relief I felt on realising it was just a dream (well a nightmare for me really).
I find having yoga class in the morning really calms me down and settles me for the rest of the day and being a day off, we didn’t have our usual 90minutes. I wouldn’t say it was the reason I was so antsy, but I’d say it definitely at least a contributing factor.
I felt ok when Eva and I made our way to Riskikesh centre. I felt fine on the rikashaw. Then we went to the sari shop and Eva took photos of me consulting the fabrics. As I flicked through them afterwards, I caught sight of one where my arm looked a little more rotund than usual. I freaked out.
Fuck this yoga course, it’s making me bigger. I’m leaving. My arms are gaining. I’m at least going to stop doingg the upper strength asanas. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I managed to pull myself out of it with some deep breaths, but ED had stirred and was conquering every thought I had so they turned back to him.
We went and met Oce at the LIittle Buddha Cafe, our new oasis away from the hustle and bustle. As it was her birthday we decided to have lunch there.
I used to add up how many calories others around me were consuming. If I spent a day with someone, I would add up everything they ate and drunk and felt a sick, perverse pleasure that I would be at least one third to one quarter of what they had. The last few months I went to great lengths to cease this completely. I hated how twisted it was. But yesterday, I’m rueful and reluctant to admit, I did my calorie calculations with the other two girls.
We were sitting with a lovely Dutch girl who had just completed her own YTTC. Usually I would be absolutely thrilled, especially with her Holland roots, but I just couldn’t give her my full attention. My fruit salad sat heavy in my stomach. The two pieces of banana I’d let pass my lips taunted me. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. But I sat there and made the best attempt I could to engage in the conversation and be in the moment.
As we made the journey home and had the horrible encounter with the pushy, persistent males, I became even more rigid. I started breathing in and out of my mouth, which I haven’t done since my arrival.
In Yoga theory, it is said that every mental knot has a corresponding physical or muscular knot and vice versa. So both the mind and body harbour these tensions, acting somato-psychically. I have had a knot in my left shoulder since I was about 14. Countless osteo, physio, acupuncture and massage sessions, although temporarily relieving it, have been unable to niggle and manipulate it out of being.
It was at this stage I noticed for the first time that this knot was absolutely buzzing. I had pins and needles down my arm and into my fingers. My left clavicle was risen. Since I’ve been here, I have had no issues with it at all until ED reared his head to be more forefront. Rightly or wrongly, I fully believe this knot is stemming from my mental battle.
We stopped at the German cafe for a quick, cold beverage. I had a mango juice, the worst action I could’ve possibly made. It was absolutely delicious and I downed it without any thought to the consequences. As soon as my glass was sculled, I panicked. And panicked.
You are so weak Poppy. Another 150 calories to add to your daily total. Stupid bitch. There goes your run this morning. You’re going to have to go for another one when you get back. Double the distance. All that fructose, you are weak. Weak. WEAK.
I started freaking out. Why the fuck had I disclosed all this ED shit on this blog? It was my inner, private battle that I’d told very few people about. Why was I airing it for all and sundry, hanging it on the public washing line so all could see my inner undies?
People were probably laughing at me, doubting that I actually have one, sneering at my weakness and attention-seeking. I almost went and deleted the whole blog.
But then I made myself see sense. I’m getting messages from so many people congratulating me on finally being open and honest. People saying they’ve suspected for years and they’re happy I’m finally confronting ED. There’s people messaging me admitting their own battles with ED, be in a mere flirtation, a casual relationship, going steady or a marriage. And for my own self, it’s so therapeutic to finally release feelings and behaviours that I’ve been secretly suppressing for years.
When we finally got home I was all set to get on my hiking boots and do a few lengths of the driveway. Eva said I was crazy; we’d already walked a good 15km today, and hadn’t I gone for a run this morning? I stopped and put things in perspective, viewed myself from her eyes. And I saw utter stupidity. I was tired, I was anxious; what I needed was a lie down.
I went to bed and promptly fell asleep at 8pm. I woke up this morning at 6am.
The panic and guilt was still lingering so I did some pranayama, some light exercises and some affirmations (plus downed a good portion of my bottle of Rescue Remedy, but let’s pretend I calmed myself a la natural). It was time to put a lid on these surging sensations and make today not a repeat of yesterday.
I did yoga and felt monumentally better. I had a very light breakfast, not gorging on the pumpkin like I usually would in a shitty mindset. I aye a few mouthfuls, stopped at the point of discomfort and passed my tray to Oce and finish off.
Now I feel determined and optimistic.
It’s not a step back; it’s a minor setback. And it’s not even that; it’s actually a blessing. I was on such an upward road that a little undulation reminded me of how awful life can be when I let ED rule. It have me a taste of how I’ve been up until now on a daily basis.
I don’t want to go back to those feelings of self hatred and despair. I don’t want to be all consumed by the bastard that I don’t enjoy my life.
Fuck off ED. I’m even more determined to beat you.