Day 19 of Recovery – Friday 16th May.

Today, I had to go to Boots to pick up my medications, so my son and I decided to make a day of it.

He’s just finished his university exams and was crashing hard – coming down from all the adrenaline, anxiety, and the full biological soup that comes with being autistic and still managing to absolutely excel in full-time uni.

So while getting my “happy pills” (which are definitely NOT happy pills) was the main reason for going out, I thought I’d try to make the day happy for him too – and maybe even challenge a huge fear of mine by having something other than an Americano at Starbucks.

First Things First, Coffee

Well, actually, the first thing I’ve done before coffee for the last year and a half is weigh myself. But I’m proud to say I’m now on Day 3 of not doing that. I’ve decided I won’t weigh myself again until the morning of my psychiatrist appointment next week, since I know they’ll ask for my weight.

I still get weighed at medication checks because I take Quetiapine, so it’s not something I can give up entirely. But I can stop being obsessive about it. Whenever I know a weight check is coming, I usually weigh myself at home first – I’d rather feel my feelings in the safety of my own space than in a sterile, 70s-looking doctor’s office.

Giving up weighing is nerve-wracking. For the past three mornings, I’ve sat with my coffee feeling like something’s missing. And I suppose it is – my brain and body are used to starting the day with that number, even if the number hurts.

But here’s the thing: not knowing doesn’t feel neutral. I have a sort of Schrödinger’s Cat situation with the scale – except I always assume the cat is dead. If I don’t know my weight, I assume the worst. It’s probably the only superposition I genuinely hate sitting in.

My anorexia feels a lot like an addiction. I’m addicted to not eating, to weighing myself, to controlling every number that enters or leaves my body. Now, in recovery, I feel like I’m in withdrawal – my usual coping mechanisms being stripped away one by one.

Still, there’s one drug I’m not giving up: caffeine. Sitting with my son and my coffee really helped. We talked about which plushies we were taking to town, and I chose the perfect emotional support companion: Biscoff Junior. I recently made him a little macramé bow and matching bag, and today he could show it off in the sunshine. So after finishing our coffees, grabbing our dressed up plushies, we headed into town.

If Hostile Architecture Was A Place

After getting my medication from Boots, we headed to the shops. I was definitely in need of a little retail therapy. I’ve been really struggling with recovery and Bipolar mood instability lately. But the kind of shopping I usually do is more the Stereophonics version of retail therapy:

“I’m just looking, I’m not buying, I’m just looking, keeps me smiling.”

It must be a Welsh thing (The song is at the bottom of this post if you’d like to listen). Just being there is enough for me – but I do try to buy myself at least a few small things.

We went to Primark first. They’ve had so many Hello Kitty items lately, and my son is obsessed. We both love it so much, it’s actually worth facing the sensory hell that is Primark. I swear, if hostile architecture was a shop, it would be Primark.

Lately, I’ve really been enjoying the cuteness of Cinnamoroll – he’s the sweetest little puppy. So when I saw a Cinnamoroll water game keyring, I had to get it. They had a Hello Kitty one too, so I bought it for my son so we could match.

He also picked out Hello Kitty and Animal Crossing pyjamas, and I found the cutest Cinnamoroll summer pyjama set – t-shirt and shorts. I was excited at first, but then I stumbled over the sizing. I’m in recovery, and rapid weight gain is a thing. I figured it was best to get my healthy weight size.

Still, that brought its own problem – if I wear them now, they’ll be really baggy. But when they fit me properly, I’ll have to feel that happening. I wish I was rich enough to buy every size so I wouldn’t have to deal with this part at all. But I’m not. And the safest option is getting the size I know I won’t grow out of. Of course, the happiness of the cute Cinnamoroll pyjamas is exactly the kind of thing Clippy (my ED) tries to ruin for me.

Still – I bought them and I bought the matching keyrings. And we were both massively relieved to finally pay and leave this fluorescent, overstimulating nightmare. The second we stepped outside, we let out a perfectly synchronised sigh of relief.

PHEW. Let’s go somewhere more soothing. I know – Waterstones.

Waterstones For My Son

My son loves Waterstones. So much so that as soon as we stepped into the store, he made a beeline for the young adult section like they were giving out free Build-a-Bear frogs. He very quickly and excitedly found a book he had no idea had even been released: The Survivor Wants to Die at the End by Adam Silvera.

He put it back on the shelf at first, but I offered to buy it for him. After everything he’s been through lately, I thought it would be lovely for him to have a huge, comforting book to disappear into now that the exams are over. Guilt free hobby time.

We spent a while decompressing in the store – him in the YA section, me in the notebook aisle. I love notebooks so much. The problem is, I love the idea of notebooks far more than I like actually using them. There was one labelled Self-Care, and it really caught my eye – it looked perfect for recovery.

But… NO. Let’s be real. I’ll just end up typing instead, and that notebook will become another beautiful shelf ornament, like all the others. I pulled myself (and my bear) away from the pretty notebooks I’m still wishing I’d bought – even though I know I probably never would’ve used them.

After leashing my inner notebook goblin and paying for my son’s book, we wandered into a few more shops – mostly in a “Just looking” kind of way. But with a few extra little treats in tow, we finally headed to Starbucks.

We both needed a save point rest stop.

The Starbucks Raid Battle.

As soon as we were nearing Starbucks, I suddenly remembered: CRAP. This isn’t a save point rest stop – this is a raid boss battle.

I’d promised myself I’d challenge getting a Macchiato instead of an Americano. I was already exhausted from shopping, and now I needed to summon energy I didn’t have – first to order it, and then to actually drink it.
UGH.

I’ve had Tassimo Macchiatos at home, but ordering one at Starbucks is a whole different kind of battle. Starbucks Macchiatos are a raid boss, and I had to take it on with just my son cheering me on – no big raid party, no healer.

According to Clippy, the Starbucks Macchiato is “too much”, and therefore scarier. It’s not just the drink – it’s the fact that I’d have to drink it in public. I’d be perceived – visibly scared, visibly hesitant – and that made me feel even more self-conscious.

I was already battling myself before we even stepped through the door, making up excuses for how I could avoid it. Then we joined the queue. The lovely barista we really like was busy with another customer. Oh no.
Now I had to wait in the queue, spiralling in my head. I started shaking. I was visibly anxious.

My son gently placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Bless him,” I thought – while simultaneously hating myself for this being such a big deal.

Eventually, the barista was done (the customer quite rightly took her time), and then he looked up and said:

“Ahh, my favourite customers!”

That helped. It reminded me of all those games where you hear that exact line (The Borderlands vending machine came to mind). Suddenly I was Commander Shepard, standing in her favourite store on the Citadel, and I did in fact order a Macchiato. My son ordered a frozen mango dragonfruit refresher.

Quest complete: “Order a Macchiato.”
New Quest unlocked: “Drink the Macchiato.”

Would you like to start this quest now?
Y/N?

Yes.

We sat at a table with our plushies and drinks. I took a bunch of cute photos of Biscoff Junior, and I’d also brought Biscoff Junior Junior – Biscoff the Third. They looked adorable together. I took photos of Biscoff Junior hugging the Starbucks cup.

Then came the drinking. And I did, in fact, try the Macchiato.

However. It was NOT GOOD. WHY?? It tasted weird. WHY is the Tassimo pod one BETTER?!

I didn’t even like it. I went through all of that – the emotional prep, the queue panic, the boss battle – for THIS?

I was genuinely disappointed. And to be clear, this isn’t my ED talking – I wasn’t using the flavour as an excuse not to drink it. I just… really didn’t like it. The foam tasted all kinds of wrong.

But Starbucks is expensive, and I couldn’t afford to waste it or buy something else.
So I drank it all anyway, feeling a bit sad, and missing my Americano.

It reminded me of when you finally defeat a raid boss and the loot is absolute garbage. No legendaries. There were no legendaries at this Starbucks. Only sad Macchiatos.

I also had to deal with my corrupted passenger afterward – Clippy was SCREAMING in my brain, “See it’s pointless to try anything new, what a WASTE of calories you didn’t even like”. Do shut up.

Still – despite all the screaming and disappointment, I did the thing. I completed my quest and unlocked achievements. I did something really scary and lived to tell the tale. I just wish I could grind for a better drink, but unfortunately…
it’s pay to win.

After finishing our drinks, we left the raid battle arena, grabbed some groceries, and headed home.

Home Sweet Home.

Back at home, we put the shopping away and tried to wind down. My son still wasn’t feeling great – but he was happy about his gifts and the book I’d surprised him with. And me? I had another small, but sad, macchiato victory under my belt. I didn’t weigh myself this morning. I went to Starbucks. I drank the thing. That should be enough.

But even good days are hard.

Anorexia recovery is exhausting. There are no true rest stops, no real save points. I’m at home now, and I still can’t fully relax – because I’m having to summon strength I don’t even have just to make dinner. Clippy is still SO loud. The macchiato wasn’t even good, and yet somehow that makes it harder. There’s no safe food to return to after having something “extra” in the day. Everything feels like a battle when Clippy is SCREAMING at you to skip everything you think of eating.

But today was still a win.

I didn’t weigh myself.
I fought a raid boss battle and drank the sad Macchiato.
I bought the pyjamas.
I cheered up my son a little.

I’m so tired. But I kept going. And I continued to eat anyway.

The song for the post as I mentioned it earlier, it’s also pretty perfect:-