new term; new commitment?

It's safe to say that my first week back at uni was something of a disaster...predictable by most people around me - and even me - I didn't cope so well with going back. The Monday started off horrendously when I tried to increase my breakfast and completely panicked/spent a couple of hours in tears then pulled it together to go to uni only to have the most horrible day of beyond confusing lectures and friendship dramas and lots of stress. Then I was up all night and missed Tuesday; asked fairly desperately for help from the ED clinic after group on Wednesday only to hear the same story that this elusive new key worker will apparently call me that week (surprise surprise, they didn't) and then missed my timetabled Wednesday as well. Wednesday was an afternoon of complete hopelessness and considering giving up completely and Thursday was the resulting emergency GP appt, where I agreed to start medication to see if that helped and was given numbers to call. Finally made it in on Friday to some pointless lectures and a tutorial that I didn't understand, having missed the previous lectures and the dissection session for the week, and thus ended the first week of year 2, term 1. It probably could have gone better...

On Saturday morning I decided it was time to make a new agreement. Clearly, this relapse thing isn't making me feel better. Clearly the voice that says 'just a couple more kg, then you're allowed to properly recover again' is complete lies and it's just making things spiral; it's making me lose everything and ultimately it could ruin my whole life if I let it. So I wrote out a commitment - to myself and God. I prayed over it and stuck it on my window, behind the curtain so it's subtle but I see it every morning when I open the curtain.

I'm proud to say that I've stuck to this agreement ever since. Despite much opposition: particularly on Monday when I had a very dramatic situation with a parked car's handbrake failing, causing it to crash into mine and stay on top of it until I managed to do some manouvering with bricks with the help of a nice garage man. And my bank card breaking at the worst possible time and other everyday mishaps that would usually cause me to fall into cycles of blame and guilt and self punishment using food (or lack thereof) and exercise.

 Despite the messiness and struggles, there has clearly been a lot of 'on my side' activity going on as well: even in the worst of last week, I had the most lovely date night. I can hardly believe that, on potentially the most hopeless day I’d ever experienced, I spent the evening falling about laughing at pictures of dogs that looked like people we knew, and proving my strength by doing high school gymnastics lifts on Jacob. I’m so thankful for this man and how he loves me – how he cries with me yet makes me cry with laughter and brings out my silly side. He later told me that he’d prayed for the sanctuary of this date night – to be a place away from everything else that was going on – and wow, did it deliver.

I'm thankful for friends who hop in my car with cups of tea and moments of hilarity in dissection with Ellie when we mishear an anatomy demonstrator and genuinely think he's 'going to get the dog' (just a note, this turned out to be door...apparently pets and cadavers are combination that is generally frowned upon...). I'm thankful for snuggling Naomi's pets when I visit her house; for a sweet pea scented candle; for care packages of tea and a cuddly snake from Shereen and the fact that I'm going to see Maddy the weekend after next. For study sessions on the kitchen table with my lovely housemates, when we drink tea and guiltily share moments of being distracted by our phones.

My new morning routine of 'breakfasting with God' has also helped the days start better. Combined with actually concentrating in lectures (with a little help from more brain fuel and a bit of hope) and realising that this term's neuroscience and behaviour topic really fascinates me, this week is going better so far. At my appt this morning, I was blind weighed for the first time ever (I'm always too curious even though I know it's ALWAYS unhelpful for me to see) and I probably gained from the last few days. But actually, I gained more than weight - I gained knowledge and a little bit of control over my own life back. I feel huge and disgusting and ambivalent and out of control and completely and utterly terrified, but of course I do. Of course I will. That's what recovery is all about.

I'm trusting, as ever, in the One who always was in control. Who forsaw this mess even before I did and constantly surrounds me. I'm trying to speak His name into the situations I face with the faith that He genuinely can change them...but also combine that with the knowledge that I have to fight with all that I have and do my bit too...

On which note, I should do my bit towards actually moving on with my degree by writing up some lecture notes. Until next time xxxxx