Today was a bit disheartening.
I deliberately skipped breakfast. Again. I got up early to drive to Carver and even though I knew I should eat something, I told myself, “Ehhhhh no. I’m not hungry. Just wait until lunch.” I’m not going to beat myself up over it because I know it’s just one slip up, but one can lead to 100 so easily.
As I think I’ve mentioned before, my hunger cues have been kind of off lately. When I wake up in the morning I’m not hungry, which makes it tempting to skip breakfast altogether. It takes more effort than normal to bring myself to eat, and when I think about eating, my body gets turned off to it. It’s almost like a slightly nauseous feeling. Very subtle.
The frustrating thing about all this is that I feel good. I have my bad days, but overall, I’m content. Usually loss of appetite is a signal for something negative (i.e. stress, ignored inner turmoil, bottled up feelings), but I really don’t feel bad (most days). I can acknowledge maybe 3 things off the top of my head that have valid reason to stress me out, but they’re comfortable discomforts, meaning I’m not worried about them. I’m optimistic and keep on goin’ with the flow. It’s all good. 🙂
Now I’m going to break a rule here and compare myself with someone else. I promise it’s to make a point. When I look at my general diet, I see it as pretty healthy. It’s fairly balanced and the portions are reasonable. The concept of eating 3 times a day is still something that makes me uncomfortable, but I do abide by it. But then this weekend, I visited my sister. In my eyes, she and my mom have always been the epitome of healthy. Her 3 meals a day put mine to shame. They are actual meals. My idea of a meal? Well, an orange for breakfast counts as a meal, right? WRONG. I’m confusing a snack with a meal. My sister and I were making lunch and she was asking me what I wanted, listing off options. Pizza, macaroni and cheese, quesadilla, etc. Everything she offered was (in my mind) too much for lunch. Eat a quesadilla for lunch AND eat pasta for dinner? I couldn’t possibly do that! Especially since I had cornbread and butter for breakfast! Jesus Christ, you want me to have orange juice too?! TOOMANYCALORIESDEARGODNOHELPMEASDFGHJKLASDFGHJKlASDF
THAT, my friends, is disordered thinking. Again, forgive the comparison (I’m already awaiting a text from my sister yelling at me), but I thought it would be worth it to illustrate a point. Out of everything that comes with an eating disorder, the one thing that I truly have not shifted in my mind is the number of calories I, as a twenty-something year old woman, am supposed to be eating daily. Usually that number is around 2,000-2,400 cal. My mind runs on a 1,000-1,200 cal basis. Granted, as someone who used to only consume (aside from nothing) 300-800 calories a day, it’s an improvement. But it’s still too low. I don’t know why, but just as 800 calories used to boggle my mind, eating over 1,000 is still hard to wrap my mind around. Even today, I ate homemade pizza with my grandparents and then they made chicken salad sandwiches, potato salad, and salad for dinner (ha lots of salads). It’s like I still have trouble processing eating those two (again, in my mind) big meals consecutively, which is frustrating. Something’s wrong with me. I feel like an alien.
So here we have reached the dilemma. I’m happy and comfortable with what I’m doing in my recovery. Even if I don’t meet the advised caloric intake per day, I feel fulfilled and healthy. The question I keep asking myself is, do I still need to consider upping my intake just to meet a health standard? Or do I measure myself with how I feel?