Grief, ED recovery, Mental Health and all the lovely things that give my Sisyphean rock meaning
What began as a recovery wobble became a deeper fall into fear, shame, exhaustion, survival behaviours and a literal fire that no longer even felt like an eating disorder. A post about panic, uncertainty, and trying to climb back out while terrified of the surface.
My brain can’t tolerate uncertainty, even though I love it in physics. Recovery gave me something to lose - joy in food, strength, a sense of self - and now anxiety fights to control it. I’m doing everything right, and it’s still hard. That’s the part no one tells you about living with OCD.
Absurd Universe 