I had one of those rare moments of clarity the other day.
Walking back to work after my lunch break, headphones in, not thinking about much…the absurdity of ED hit me.

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Like, I just take for granted that restricting my food intake is a normal and inevitable part of life. For all my therapy and over-thinking I don’t often stop to wonder what purpose restriction is serving for me right now. How on earth did intentionally never quite eating enough to fuel and maintain my body become normal? When I state it like that, it’s bizarre. 

Oh, I say to myself, it helps quell my anxiety and helps me function. There are recognised neuro/bio reasons eating makes me feel bad. 
Well, fine, whatever. It’s still bizarre that you’ve come to unquestioningly come to accept it as an integral part of your life. 

I think sometimes it really helps to step outside yourself and examine your life and behaviour from the point of view of an alien visiting earth. How much stuff I take for granted falls apart when I try to justify and explain it?

 

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