Finally, Some Relief

I think this is really the first time that I can say with confidence that I feel better. Not sure if it's the capsaicin working already, since I've only been on it for two weeks, or if this is just natural improvement with time - but my pain has been greatly reduced for the past couple of weeks. I'm superstitious about even typing that because I keep expecting things to go south again, but knock on wood - I am feeling so much better. 

I'm not pain-free, but often I come pretty close. Often, in fact, the pain is not at the forefront of my mind. Of course I am totally paranoid that this is a random fluke thing, but it feels different. I haven't felt this consistently good in almost two years. It hasn't been a flip switching - more of a gradual downgrade to the point where I now have more good days than bad. Hard to imagine I'm here. And I am so grateful.

At the same time, this all puts me in a bit of a conundrum because I pretty much want to be out running and skipping and jump roping and what-have-you every second of the day...but apparently, I still have major problems eating enough to fuel all that joyful movement. I have done a little better the past couple days with eating more as suggested/ordered by Dr. P., but still not exactly where she wanted me. Plus the fact that I recently upped my running volume, so I really should be going beyond the planned caloric increase...

source

Gosh, I hate thinking about food! Didn't realize this, but it's been a while since I really rocked the ED boat in my head in terms of adding calories, shaking up timings, and adjusting for exercise and all that. Even though I know how much damage I did to myself in the past through undereating and overexercising, I still can't seem to make that connection in my head when I'm deciding what to eat for dinner.

I'm grateful, but I'm also scared. I've gotten used to feeling miserable all the time; to expecting the worse; to assuming that I won't ever get to enjoy things the way other people do. I'm happy, but it's a tentative, anxious happiness. I am trying to remember back to the first couple of times I saw Dr. A when he insisted over and over again that the anorexia is what screwed me; that losing my period for so many years was not harmless, but rather a sign that things beneath the surface were going horribly wrong. I keep trying to remind myself how good things are when I'm not hurting all the time, and how easily I could mess that up. I even bought a box of POP-TARTS, so there's really no excuse for me not hitting my calorie goals.

yum

Okey doke, lots to ponder. I've got an hour left at work, then tutoring, then pharmacy to pick up my drugs, then home. Then Pop-tarts.