Wow, August already? That means school starts for me in less than THREE weeks. Kind of incredible how quickly this summer has gone by—and I think it's partly because I've been generally, not-always-but-more-often-than-not, happy. The fatigue, pain, and weight stuff are still kicking my butt, but not devastating me in every way possible like they used to. Don't know how else to describe it, but compared to how fragile and emotionally broken I've felt for most of the past year, my brain just feels stronger and more resilient.
The whole "exercising moderately" thing has turned out to be way trickier than I imagined. Six-ish months ago when Dr. A made the connection between overexercise, hormone loss, and pelvic atrophy/pain, I was totally gung-ho about taking care of my body and never overexercising again etc. etc. etc. I just assumed that knowing the consequences, any temptation to fall down that hole again would be nonexistent; or at least easily restrained. Not. True. I'm not overexercising at the moment in that the time/intensity of my workouts are nowhere near objectively excessive, but I find myself totally hooked in the old, obsessive ways. Suddenly, my morning feels like a failure if I haven't gone to the gym. Breakfast feels like an indulgence I haven't earned.
So, nipping that in the bud: I am reminding myself of all the reasons that satisfying a short-term anxiety is SO NOT WORTH the potential long-term effects. I am reminding myself that while it may feel like being skinny is a distant memory, I've only recently become weight-restored. A year ago, I was still underweight. I've only been eating beyond a minimal amount of fats for about five or six months. It would be risky and stupid to assume that all the damage is behind me and it's okay to throw myself back into intense workouts again. Really, really stupid.
In the spirit of recovery, I am heading off to accept a VERY impulsive, last-minute dinner invitation from a friend. Happy Thursday everyone!