Last night, I went out with P to the local bar for dinner. I managed to eat the lettuce out of my salad and half of a plain black bean burger. Much more eagerly consumed though, were the 3 drinks, enabling the inevitable purge of said dinner. We had an excellent time and I met everyone at the bar, just like my old fun, funny, and infectious self. I was happy and animated despite messing up all day yesterday, something I've noticed as treatment has progressed. My mood is generally better and I'm overall happy, excited, and so much more stable, even if the day isn't perfect. We went to bed buzzed, early, and in love. I am lucky to have this wonderful person in my life and continue to remind him as much as possible. I would not be in treatment if it weren't for him.
I was already anticipating a rough day today in treatment today after resolving to give up my resistance and accept the consequences, but I could not bring myself to go to treatment this morning. I call the treatment center at 6:45 am. I can't come in today. I think I'm sick (again). I seriously doubt they're buying all of my sick days, but in my head, I see today and this weekend as a last resort before accepting treatment like I promised myself I would. P leaves for work at 9:00 am and it's off to Kroger I go, a premeditated binge and purge already ingrained in my mind. I woke up in the middle of the night several times, the consequence of too much to drink, and planned out exactly what I'd purchase - what I'd eat on the way to the store as a marker, what I'd eat on the 3 minute drive back.
In the future, I cannot plan binges and purges when left with an opportunity to be alone. Once I plan, it's incredibly more difficult to resist. Once I can envision the taste of the food I'll allow myself, there's no way in hell I won't eat and eat and eat. This is something I really need to figure out, make a plan in writing, and stick to it, if I ever want to recover 100%. Which I Do, So Badly.
Despite having the opportunity to binge and purge for an entire workday, I get lucky today and it's only two cycles. That is, however, two days of binging and purging in a row, a huge deviation from my week-free streak. After it's over, I take a nap, full of nothing but Powerade Zero and a drinking and purging hangover. My mouth still hurts, when I wake up, and even now, hours later. The calluses on my right hand are especially prominent. I'm afraid the skin around my mouth is visibly and noticeably chapped and red. I'm physically a mess. I drag myself to the gym and hammer out 45 minutes on the eliptical, then 8 miles on the treadmill. P comes home and I walk the dog for another 2 miles. 16 mile equivalents. I haven't kept anything down today. I'm sitting on my computer, blogging and drinking my sugar free chai with booze now, but with dinner in the fridge. When will my heart stop? Probably soon. I must eat.
So, Monday will be the day I start fresh and actively participate in recovery. Is that what I'm going to keep telling myself? That's the way recovery went when I was on my own - I'll do it tomorrow, this weekend, next week, next month. I can't live like that. I can't live like this. Time for change.
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