It’s two days away from my weightlifting meet.
And quite honestly, the eating disorder is nipping at my heals.
I am getting anxious. Anxious that I am not going to make the openers I set out for myself. Anxious that I will bomb out. Anxious that I will lift horribly and make a fool out of myself.
And while I know all of these thoughts are not at all realistic, I am worrying. And am nervous. And then to compound the matter, these negative thoughts make me even more frustrated because I know I should NOT worry or be nervous.
What is a girl, who is really more a ball of stress knots, to do? When “normal” people get overwhelmed, they handle the situation in a variety of ways: talk with someone about it, journal, meditate, pray, or eat a bunch of chocolate. What do I do? I may make attempts to pray and quiet my mind with deep breathing, but eventually, the eating disorder voice starts talking. And talking. And talking.
Do you really need that many carbs if you’re not training hard this week?
You’re so close to the xxxx weight class. Don’t gain any weight, just maintain and you can lift in the lighter class.
I hear the voice. And while I want to say that I’m combating it well, in actuality, I am not.
I am kinda-sorta giving in, which means I really AM giving in…because 99% compliance to recovery is really 100% NOT complying to recovery.
I feel stuck. Stuck in this hole. I think that in two days, JUST TWO DAYS, I will be able to eat whatever I want. I envision chowing on a burger and fries from Teddy’s and finishing it off with a Starbuck’s pumpkin bread for dessert.
But only after the meet. Only after Saturday.
My stomach is growling even as I type this.
And when I think about the freedom I feel just eating, eating that burger and fries, I think to myself, well, why not just eat it now? Who really cares if I make weigh to lift in the xxxx weight class? Does it REALLY matter? Aren’t I lifting for fun?? Am I going to the Olympics???
In reality, no one really cares if I am 1 kilogram over or under a certain weight class. I am lifting for fun. It really doesn’t matter what my weight is. I am not going to the Olympics or any other international competition in the foreseeable future.
But there’s this weird, odd, insistent voice that tells me WHY ARE YOU EATING THAT?!?! that I cannot get rid of.
It will take time to rewire my brain. I know that. I need to be patient and follow through to get my cognitions running correctly.
But it’s so so so hard. So hard.
Edit: I wrote the above section prior to doing my last training. It is now Friday, one day away from the weightlifting meet. In twenty-four hours, I will be getting ready to weigh-in and then lift. I still feel trepidation, a bit of anxiousness, a bit of fear.
But I did something monumental last night.
Well, a number of monumental things.
I ate sushi for dinner. It was quite scary for me, as all I could think was THAT IS TOO MANY CARBS TO BE EATING RIGHT NOW YOUR WEIGHT WILL GO UP AND UP AND YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO LIFT IN THE XXX CLASS.
But I did it.
And then, I ate ice cream. Oh, that eating disorder voice was screaming at me for sure.
And guess what? The world did not end. In fact, I woke up very early this morning, unable to sleep (most likely my insomnia is a mixture of nerves and being underweight), and was tempted to exercise. Not train, but EXERCISE. Why? Because I was afraid that what I would eat today would make my weight skyrocket by tomorrow and then I wouldn’t be able to lift in a lighter weight class.
Oh my goodness, what I just wrote sounds incredibly ridiculous.
But thankfully, I talked down that ED voice. I read and tried to make myself go back to sleep. Nope. An hour later, I was still up. I laid in bed and prayed. And prayed. And prayed. I watched some of Rebecca Leung’s YouTube videos for inspiration to stay the course of recovery. I made breakfast. I washed the clothes. I took a hot shower. Seriously, I did all these things and it’s not even 6am. But I didn’t exercise.
I thought about going for a quick jog around the neighborhood (C’mon, only 15 minutes the ED voice screamed), but I knew that a quick jog would then lead into doing push-ups…and then a quick kettlebell finisher…and then some abs…and then some unilateral movements to correct my body’s imbalances…and wouldn’t you know it? I’d end up having done a 1-2 hour workout.
And I also knew that I want to do well at tomorrow’s meet, and if my goal REALLY IS to do the best I can, WHY NOT give my body a rest day so I am raring to go on the platform?
This is truly a process. A very long process. There are some days when I feel like I take a step forward and then a million steps back. But I have to remind myself that it’s ok. My journey is MY journey and no one else’s.