So I am going to start off this post by apologizing about the video I promised yesterday. I slept most of yesterday and then my family and I had to be social at some Christmas party (if you haven’t catched my drift yet, parties are not my thing). So the whole “make-a a-video” thing went out the window. . . . but don’t fret. I am planning on making one once I reach my grandparents house located in the boonies of lower Michigan. Wait. . . you probably weren’t aware of my family’s annual pilgrimage to good ol’ Michigan were you? Well, sit back and relax as you read about what it takes for a recovering anorexic to cope with a horrifying journey. A journey so horrifying, that I am filled with fear and apprehension weeks in advance.
It’s all starts with getting there and if we want to get to my grandparent’s house, I must endure a grueling 8 hour car trip. Many people may find this task to be nothing more than an inconvenience, but for a recovery anorexic (like me) a car trip this long is literally the definition of hell. You see, ED tends to infiltrate my thoughts during this horrendous interstate odyssey and causes me to think that sitting on my ass for a total of 8 hours will result in an incredible amount of weight-gain. As all of you guys are probably aware, weight-gain is the greatest fear of any anorexic.
Once that challenging drive is completed, you would hope that that would be the end to my misery. But of course, it is just beginning. At my grandparents house it seems like the world revolves around artery-clogging comfort foods, which are obviously NEVER going to enter my mouth. Plus I have to worry about my food allergies and cross contamination. I am sorry, but food allergies and anorexia are NEVER a good mix. When those two things mesh together it results in panic attacks that even a ton of lorazepam can’t control.
Ok . . . . .. yep. That was my venting session. I know I need to think a little more positively about this whole trip, but it’s as hard as hell. I am so scared and frightened. Sometimes I wish I could just stay home. . . .