Well. I am in the middle of some crazy stuff. I move to LA in five days, and there’s no shortage of self-doubt and fear in my already anxious brain. But in this fraught situation, I have broken the cardinal rule and have completely neglected my mental health. I think it’s natural in recovery to hit a point where you feel like you start from square one again. That’s where I am right now. I haven’t relapsed or had any major event that would detour progress too much. But I did divert from my path that was working well. I got scared, and it landed me in the emergency room.
I suffer from a lot of mental turmoil. I have depression and, at times, crippling anxiety. I don’t know when it started. I began liberally using drugs and alcohol in my early twenties and using various SSRI meds to remedy issues. I would wonder at times if I altered my chemistry in some way to make me extra prone to extreme thoughts and anxiety. Anyway. This isn’t uncharted territory. But yesterday was different. I experienced a panic episode so actual that no intervention could have convinced me I wasn’t taking my last breaths. All of it was brought on by stress and neglect of my advice. Balance and kindness to myself.
It started with some weight gain. I have been lifting heavier. I’ve seen excellent muscle development and progress in areas I only dreamed of excelling. But the number on the scale terrifies me. I began to restrict myself a bit. First, I started drinking black coffee instead of lattes. Then I limited my morning treats. Then it was protein bars instead of treats. Prolonging my first meal and fasting workouts followed. Keep in mind my activity level is borderline excessive. I need to eat. But somehow, I told myself I was overeating. It quickly turned into almost no food until about 2pm most days. That culminated in one ugly meltdown.
I went to the gym. I had a great lift. I did my cardio and then went to have coffee. As I began my walk afterward, I started feeling my heart fluttering. I’m well-versed in panic, so I assumed it was dehydration. I chugged some liquid and kept going, but the feeling persisted and got more intense. At that point, it had escalated to a sense of my chest collapsing. I couldn’t get air, my hands were numb, and my head was clouded. I arrived at the ER and was immediately treated as a cardiac arrest patient out of caution. Long story short, tests were performed in every area. I’m fine, but I think this was a wake-up call to make some changes.
I’m in the prime of my life. I take care of myself diligently and do everything that I love. Somewhere along the line, I stopped doing what worked and started doing what I thought was right according to diet culture. If I’m doing all of this and having this great time but can’t even enjoy it, what’s the point? Anyway. I guess I say everything to remind you that everyone goes through it. I thought I was dead. I really did.
I woke up today with purpose. It’s my job to continue loving and nourishing myself in every way, including nutrition. Moving for joy, not because I feel I have to. Eating things I love and trusting myself and my process. I’m not playing this game anymore or quitting. I’m going to beat this and get stronger. Fuck eating disorders. I’m having coffee, a cookie, pizzas, and moving and lifting heavy shut because I love it. That’s me. Stay balanced and do things you love. Please know that I’m proud of you, and I’m proud of myself.
