The Saga of Sad Soup.

So weird. I got my 3rd consecutive period yesterday. 🙂 Yay! I’m weight restored. I feel strong. And… I cried and freaked out about eating this corn/bean/tortilla soup:

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Top: How it looked originally. Bottom: After I “fixed” it. (More like killed it)

I was in the middle of writing yesterday, when my sister (ever so kindly) came to my room at 7 pm with a bowl. She brought me soup she just made and asked me to eat it. I looked at it and got super overwhelmed. I wanted to refuse. I told her I was scared. I knew I wasn’t being kind, considering her effort and thoughtfulness. I took it to the kitchen and thought I’d start to eat. As I looked at it, it got scarier and scarier. 10 minutes go by. I reheat it. I stare at it again. My sister encouraged me. I started to cry. There were so many old “rules” that were being broken in this meal! Although I thought I’ve been living life Ed-free, I understood there is more of my mind that needs to recover.

My sister held me. I re-heated the soup. I re-heated it 5 times before I tasted it. Everyone  already finished their dinner. I started picking. I picked out every single bean, some corn, and some chicken out into another bowl. I added water into what I had left, heated it, and tried eating. Nope, that wasn’t okay either. I took a tupperware and dumped what I had in there and threw in the things I picked out. I stuck it in the fridge thinking, “Phew, now I can focus on actually doing something productive.

I came to my room- couldn’t study. I hopped into the shower, but my mind attacked me even there. I felt that by not eating the soup after all that fighting, I was doing something wrong. I literally felt like I was sinning. I thought I’d feel more at peace without ED voices, instead I felt awful because I understood that the one bowl of soup signified much more. It was as if I faced the choice of accepting an ED back into my life, or to continue moving forward with new priorities in life.

Needless to say, after my shower I re-heated the soup (at that point I probably killed the flavor & it was already 9 pm). I ate it all- beans, corn, everything. I knew I was doing what was right, especially considering I didn’t feed my body well at all that day.

This morning I woke up with thoughts of restricting and asked my sister to give me my scale back. Thankfully, she refused. She knows this game already. It’s just weird when you reach the state of feeling chunky, have periods, and more than half a year has passed since starting recovery and still get caught up in the whirlwind of old ED thoughts. I challenged myself this month to only see my therapist once. Well, I don’t know if that’s been the greatest idea. I guess it really does take the mind longer to heal than the body.

Do you have any experiences you’d like to share with the moments that look like setbacks?

What helps you to not give up in the battle you’re fighting?

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2 thoughts on “The Saga of Sad Soup.

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