Splashing Around - A Memory

My relationship with exercise has been but a turbulent one. Until the grasps of my eating disorder, I had always been an active child. I used to partake in dancing competitions and often used to swim for my school. Swimming was such a passion of mine, and my coach said I had the ability of an Olympic swimming. A mere confidence boost to enhance my performance on the day of competitions, perhaps, but she was not wrong in that I was talented. 

As my ED developed, I began to shy away from these activities. I remember making excuses not to show for up training and eventually, stopping altogether as the sight of my body, or more so the thought of other people seeing my body, made my skin physically itch. Exercising and sport was no longer a hobby or a pleasure, it began to take the form of being merely a tool of punishment. If I could go back to my early adolescent days, I would tell myself to not worry. It would have saved me a whole lot of pain. Of course, those all too familiar feelings of guilt and shame make their reappearance but how I respond to these thoughts/feelings has definitely improved.

A memory that sticks with me when I reflect on my recovery journey so far is going swimming with my boyfriend at the time. The whole drive to the gym I had an ache in my stomach so uncomfortable and my heart was racing. This should be a normal, enjoyable experience for any couple. It was only a matter of time before the inevitable negative (and ludicrous!) thoughts began to swarm round my head. My thoughts would dance with one another with dizzying confusion. I'd convinced myself that EVERYONE there is going to be staring at ME and ME only and giggling to their friends or mums or dads or grandparents or kids for the full duration of whilst I was there. Or that my boyfriend would no longer like me if he saw me in THIS swimsuit on THIS day, despite him obviously knowing what I look like. Writing it down, it sounds absolutely ridiculous. Maybe it was. Maybe it is. Of course no one really looked at me. No one giggled. No one made any nasty comments. Why would they? Did my boyfriend recoil at the sight of me? Of course not. It's funny how our brains work, how your mood can be ruined in 0.2 seconds just by some little voice that's trying to constantly revert you back to old habits. 

However,  I did not let these emotions ruin our plans. Sure, I had a mad panic in the car, in the changing rooms, and in the pool. But too many plans, days out, meals out, holidays, have been ruined by this illness. But, on that day, the voice inside did not win.  Liz - 1, Voice - 0. I take pride in the fact that the voice is a lot quieter now than it used to be. 

I love noticing little things that are changing since I'm slowly learning how to ignore it. Like how my nails are starting to grow and don't snap off, or how my hair actually shines now, or how my skin glows, or how I have more energy and patience to concentrate on simple tasks. The list is endless. 

We should not punish ourselves for relapsing, but instead remember that we cannot find comfort and peace in the place that we lost it. 

Be kind to yourself. 

- e.a.w