A Brand New Feeling

Unlike many eating disorder victims, when I was sick I never questioned whether I was sick enough to get help. Yet, ten years later I am now questioning whether I was actually unwell in the first pla

Today, I have felt a brand new feeling. Which is a headliner because, well, I really did think I had felt them all. But, turns out there are an infinite amount, which means Pixar can create endless inside-out films.

If this feeling were to be a character they would be grey. It is easy to feel red, or blue, yellow or even black but feeling grey is less defined. Ever since I began my journey to recovery, a hard date to pinpoint because what technically is the start of recovery. The lowest of lows? or the plateau? the apex? anyway, it has to be a good 8 years.

Ever since the start of recovery, I have wanted to talk about recovery to other people. But, I never felt like I could.

Why?, you ask. Well, because I was never fully recovered. There was something that always jumped out at me. I tried it, I tried to talk to a room full of people about recovery when I was over half way there, and yet I knew I couldn’t say my day had been ED free. I had measured my wrists, or counted my almonds. I simply could not preach about the greatness of beating my eating disorder/addiction whilst hiding a scale under my bed.

When in treatment centres, I have been spoken to by those who are recovered. When I was at my sickest and these occasions occurred, god was I a bitch. I judged every inch of their bodies from the moment I walked in the room.

‘‘They can’t be in recovery, they are wearing a skirt, people who are recovered would still never wear a skirt.’’

‘‘She can’t be recovered her wrist scars look to fresh.’’

‘‘Look, they are slim that means they are lying.’’

I know I was unwell when I had those thoughts, or even said them aloud to my therapist. That is what is going to make the main point of this post - my new feeling- even more confusing. I will get to that greyness now.

I do not feel able to talk about recovery, because I do not feel I was ever sick enough to have to have recovered.

Sure, I remember everyone telling me I was sick, I remember the hospital admissions and meal plans and constant stream of calculations in my mind of intake - outtake aka food vs exercise. But, the fact I can now walk past a scale and not stand on it baffles me. I do not even want to stand on it. Does that make me a fake? an imposter?

So, this grey feeling - some would call it imposter syndrome (including chat gpt) but it doesn’t feel like that.

The definition of imposter syndrome is: the persistent inability to believe that one's success is deserved or has been legitimately achieved as a result of one's own efforts or skills.

This feeling is not wearing a mask, or costume, instead it is wearing my own clothes but maybe back to front, or inside out.

I know those close to me, can see how far I have come - I know I haven’t fooled or duped them (as those with imposter syndrome may feel). So is it myself that I have fooled? Was I even sick enough to be able to talk about getting better? I am in a place now, where my suffering seems imagined. Where I can not imagine being that person.

Unlike many eating disorder victims, when I was sick I never questioned whether I was sick enough to get help. Yet, ten years later I am now questioning whether I was actually unwell in the first place.

And that, right there, is grey.