About two weeks ago, I was faced with a pretty large stressor. I don’t want to go into any details, but it was the kind of thing that will keep you up at night, wondering what’s going to happen the next day and in the future. I was hit with the stress on a Friday night and when I got home on Saturday, I spent the whole day in bed. I had no appetite. I didn’t want to show my face to my family, friends or anyone for that matter. I didn’t want to talk to anyone or do anything. I didn’t want to listen to music. I didn’t want to go on the internet. I didn’t want to read. I just laid in bed, stewed over my emotions and slept a lot.
I was certain that I was headed for a relapse.
I didn’t see anything in my future. I just didn’t want to deal with life.
The things that got me through this, though, were my own will to go on and my family and Javier.
I knew that I needed to focus on resolving the issue at hand, and that wouldn’t be possible if I started starving myself again. I knew that I couldn’t ignore my parents for the rest of my life. They wouldn’t make it through a second round of watching me waste away to skin and bones again. I knew that I needed to take care of myself if I want to continue seeing Javier, I wouldn’t want to give him up for anything.
I hated having Javier call or text me and ask what I had eaten that day, if I had eaten yet. I can’t lie to him and I didn’t want to make him worried. I don’t like having people worry about me and it kills me knowing that I worry him.
So when my mom came down to tell me that dinner was ready, I told her I was not hungry and the thought of food made me nauseous, I just dragged myself upstairs and made myself eat what I could get down.
I slept everything off and the next day I woke up, and started fresh.
I was worried that Saturday that things weren’t going to go uphill, but I wasn’t going to let that fear allow me to make it a reality. I would rather have one bad day, and just wake up the next day and start fresh, with a clear and rested mind.