“The Cake Is Now” part 3 Decontructing the Euphoria and Highs

It is beyond belief that I, a seemingly intelligent person could actually begin to starve myself in early June 2014.  How could my mind played such a terrible game? How could I fall for such a tormented game of both my body and mind?  I easily began restricting my food just because my mind could, and coupled with the ensuing weight loss, I received such a feeling Euphoria

Anorexia is not well understood in the professional medical community.  There is a stigma of ‘self-blame” that is often attributed by the healthcare provider. In the early stages of this disease, there remains a potent euphoric high, for seemingly having control over your mind and body.  This high is something that is hard to explain, it is so powerful it seems improbable without some sort of drug intervention.

The idea or the concept of starving myself, is so maligned and deeply rooted in the recesses of the brain, and the body is just a mere puppet. As I let myself go back to the high of euphoria, it seems almost inconceivable that such restriction would ever be possible.  As humans we need, we crave both to fuel and nourish our bodies.  Such is not the case with an anorexic. In the height of the disease for the patient, in the beginning months nothing could be further from the truth.  Running on adrenaline and pure euphoria, I was delighted beyond belief, at both my body’s declining weight, and the pure satisfaction I got from the ultimate control I elicited from every facet of my life.

Perfection was the doorway that lead to restriction and over exercise in the months of May, June , and most of July.  At that time I felt invincible; nothing could get in the way of my new routines I created in my life. Unfortunately looking back in hindsight, there were plenty of warning signs that I was headed to deep health ramifications.  However, it took months, for loved ones to somewhat piece it all together.  Another factor as I got deeper into my restriction, extra exercise and my heightened euphoria, is that I went quiet. I went really deep, not sharing this with any other.

People speak about infamous closets, and for me who was always so wide open and honest, I hid my truths from the rest of the world, and covered my body to divert concern.  I wore big clothes that did not fit me, I also began to spend more time alone.  For when I was completely alone, I had no worries of eating for “show” in front of the people who loved and cared for me.

In the medical world, health-care professionals speak not so highly often of the anorexic patient.  There are instances when the patient denies any problem of their own.  Hidden in clothes  which are way too big, and the biggie; starting to eat the little I ingested in a day, home in secrecy.  I spoke of routines in earlier blogs, but an almost ritualistic pattern began to develop coinciding with the heightened Euphoria.  What little I did eat, I planned it out and made much a to do. Since eating was getting to be less and less, I coveted those times I did feed my body. I would go most of an entire day, looking so forward to my 80 calorie Greek yogurt.

As I write this now, I am digging deep, deconstructing myself and my vile patters.  I am also concerned with articulating what exactly was my mind set at this time. Without a doubt this is very difficult and trying to write, for it was sickly enough a very romantic time; a time I felt I loved myself like no other time in my life.  I write these words and know now I was sick, and by romanticizing this part of the this illness’s journey, I am at an utter loss, how the medical community can get involved at this stage.  For me it was the single most important of times, yet I was still months away from seeing a doctor.

So as I find myself on a slippery slope with my recovery, of these smashing memories just over flood me. I try as I may to attach to the euphoria with what would come nearly close to brushes with death.  It does not quell my longing for this time, so perfect in just about every way.  I was in ultimate control, with school, my body and my exercise.  The high of euphoria is a painful mental illness drug, that doesn’t require any type of pill.  And this was all going on, when my health on all levels was not in any imminent danger.  I certainly don’t mean to romanticize, but I honestly must dig deep in my fragile recovery to not fall backwards into that seemingly, no it really was a brilliant place, for three short months before everything  changed.  The euphoria would sadly die, and that is when my body took its own first steps to an impending death.  No that was not euphoric in the very least;

but the brutal reality of this insidious disease.