May 7th – Day 10 of anorexia recovery.

Today I realised I’ve been approaching recovery all wrong. In my last post, I explained how anorexia recovery has so far only forced me to face the exact reasons I relapsed.

First there was grief — and I tried so hard to sit with it. Then came the Return of Darth Bipolar. Then trauma, then perimenopause anxiety — the kind that wakes you up vibrating and doesn’t leave.

And just to add insult to injury, I got sick. Sinusitis, swollen glands, head fog — my body and brain both screaming. It felt like playing a cursed version of Pipe Dream inside my skull. I was frantically trying to move all the pipes, managing one leak while another flow of water came from seemingly no where. All the while, Clippy (my ED) whispered that it could shut the water off completely.

But here’s what I did wrong: I tried to play Pipe Dream at all.

FIX IT NOW.

Bipolar, especially mixed states and hypomania, always comes with this horrible, desperate, restless urgency — everything needs fixing five minutes ago. I fall into that trap often, because as I said in my last post, Bipolar messes with my ability to see reason and logic. I act first, think later. Just, FIX IT NOW.

It reminds me of the time I moved house — a massive life change that triggered a hypomanic episode — and I decided that was the perfect time to quit smoking, go gluten free (because some article said it helps with Cluster Headaches — it did NOT), and fix seventeen different traumas I had. That episode ended with me earning an accredited certificate in CBT because I was so confident (read: grandiose) I could fix everything by myself, thank you very much.

Reading that back now, it sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. But at the time? It felt like a multi-tiered stroke of genius. I had that classic Bipolar hypomania confidence — suddenly I was Sonic with the invincibility stars swirling around me. Walk across spikes? No problem. Everything felt possible, urgent, and right now.

I wanted to sit with grief when it came up on Day 4. I still do. But you can’t process anything while in a Bipolar episode. I know this. I’ve been here before. What you do is speak to your psychiatrist, maybe adjust your meds — and then wait for it to pass before trying to do anything else.

That’s all I need to do right now when it comes to Bipolar. I can’t process it. I can’t accept it. I can’t do anything with it. I can’t sit with grief. I can’t deal with the giant filing cabinet of trauma my brain dumped out in exchange for all the glucose Chaos Goblin fed it. All I need to do right now is wait. And talk to my psychiatrist.

Eating Despite Everything

Due to everything I’ve mentioned so far, eating has been REALLY rough. I mean, my sinusitis means I can’t even taste anything properly, or swallow properly either, and I feel pretty rotten. I did use it to challenge some fears though — I tried a smoothie, which is a big fear food of mine, and it was very soothing and cool on my raw, hard-to-swallow throat.

Mixed episodes and hypomania always affect my hunger levels too, so I haven’t even been hungry — mentally, physically, or extremely. I feel like I do not need food or water most of the time.

Clippy is also whispering in my ear constantly about how it could make all of this go away — how it could provide me a life raft for the floodwaters I’m flailing in. But I know that life raft would sink too. So I’ve kept eating. I’ve maintained that 3kg jump from last week. (I’m mentioning weight here because a lot of that is water that would’ve definitely disappeared by now if I’d gone back. Ah yes — Clippy would literally make the water go away too.)

The Pick N Mix jars I posted about have helped a lot. Every time I go over to the kitchen, I’ll grab some marshmallows, a few Jellytots, or a Ferrero Rocher out of them. I actually finished the entire jar of marshmallows, and now it has Drumstick Squashies in it.

It’s exhausting, though. I’m tired from all the flailing — but at least now I know what I have to do from here on out.

Keep On, Keeping On Eating

From today onwards, I’m going to focus more on just my recovery. It needs all of me. And the last few days have proven that.

I need to be constantly focused on eating and getting to a safer place first. Because despite gaining 3kg in four days, I am still underweight. I am not stable enough to unpack anything at all — we’re still just surviving the very beginning of a very long road. And here I am, trying to get to the finish line before even fixing the car.

My car has no fuel and the sinus engine is flooded. Of course it can’t move.

I need to fix the car first. Even while I feel atrocious, mentally and physically. Even while the grief, the trauma, and the Bipolar symptoms are all screaming at me to fix everything immediately.

Instead, I’m going to sit with it. Feel it. Not try to process it. Just cry, grieve, have a Carrie Mathison–inspired meltdown about the government, eat Biscoff, drink smoothies, and sneak sweets from my Pick n Mix jars and WAIT. Wait for my psychiatrist appointment in 2 weeks and wait until my body is safer.

I’m going to be the physical embodiment of the “This is fine” meme. With fire, empty Biscoff jars and Jellycat bears all around me.
And just eat anyway.