I think I’ve finally made peace with myself.
The realisation has just hit me out of nowhere.
Yes I have bad days, but most often my mind is free from the oppressive chain of worry. Free from the persistent negative thoughts that would incessently whirl around in my overactive mind. Free from constant self criticism, continually searching for ways to improve myself rather than being able to live in the moment and appreciate everything I have.
I don’t care what people think of me anymore. I don’t care what people think about the decisions I make. I don’t care what people think of the way I look. I certainly don’t care if people think I looked better when I was skinny, because my God I feel so much better.
I can concentrate. I have energy. I don’t feel weak and faint. I want to socialise rather than lock myself away. I’m not cold all the time. I can sleep. I’m less anxious. My mood is better. I’M ALIVE AGAIN.
And not only that, but I’m actually starting to like my body again. I’m beginning to not only accept, but appreciate the rolls and bulges that have emerged over the past few months. I’m starting to like my jiggle and the extra junk in my trunk. My wobbly thighs and podgy tummy remind me of all the good times I’ve had eating and drinking without a care in the world. They remind me of smiles and laughter. They’re a strength not a weakness, and I intent to continue growing in more ways than one!
Hi everyone, sorry I haven’t posted in a while, but I’ve actually been doing really well the past week or so. Following my Gran’s funeral I figured it was time to sort myself out a bit. I’ve been eating well, exercising less, and visibly gaining weight, which although I find hard to accept I can now see that the benefits absolutely outweigh the drawbacks. I’m not anxious all the time, I’m not spending hours calorie counting, I’m enjoying indulging in good food, I’m not drained, I can concentrate, I’m not feeling faint all the time, and yes it still crosses my mind and it still occupies a lot if my thoughts, but it isn’t weighing me down in the same way it used to.
My boyfriend came over for a surprise visit this weekend, and omg we had such a good time. I think this weekend was the first time I’ve truly experienced the true flavour of recovery. I could feel that I was happier, I was laughing, I was messing around, I wanted to do things. We went out for drinks and dinner and I just had what I wanted. We made the most delicious chocolate and hazelnut cake, which I’d have flat out refused to have done a few months ago, and we devoured most of it. We made poached eggs on toast for breakfast. We made for dinner burgers. We just did what we wanted. It was such a breath of fresh air to see what life can be like when you just let go. JUST LET THAT SHIT GO!
The most exciting part of this is that I’m starting to get to know who I really am. This blog is called the real me, and that’s what I’m now starting to discover. Now that I’m starting to set aside all the stupid rules I’ve accumulated over the years that previously governed my every move, I’m beginning to make my own decisions based upon what I actually want, not what I ‘should’ want. Now that I’m starting to practise self compassion, I’m able to be kind to myself and do what’s right for me, not what the rule book would usually say. I’m breaking free from the chains I’ve become so familiar with, and the real is starting to taste the freedom she’s been deprived of for so long. Progress.