yesterday my grandfather looked at me and said “meg, you look good! have you lost weight? for a while there i thought you were gaining some.”
i know this was supposed to be an innocent compliment. but i spiraled. i felt this unsettling combination of nausea, body loathing, and dissonance as one of the most important people in my life just shamed me in the most destructive way possible and without even realizing it.
i honestly don’t know which was worse. hearing that estranged ED voice screaming in my ear once again. or knowing that my grandfather. my hero. my father figure, had been the one to trigger that voice. he was no longer “perfect” in my eyes. i was mad at him, but felt so guilty for being so.
but after a good cry, multiple calls/texts to my therapist and recovery mentor, and a self care night with one of my best friends, i managed.
i managed to eat (and enjoy every single bite of that pizza!) even when that ED voice was amplified as if i was 15 years old again. i managed to cope through and avoid what could have easily been a relapse. i managed to work through those feelings of confusion and accept that i am allowed to feel anger towards those that i love. and most importantly, i managed to cope and ground myself in the resilient confidence recovery had given me and the unconditional love, acceptance, and appreciation for my body that i have worked so hard to achieve.