A tale of lost keys and surprise bun

I wonder how is life without self-hatred. A life without continuous self-doubt. A life of forgiving. A life of letting go.

I know how is life with anorexia, it is just the opposite of what I dream of.

Let’s start from the beginning. This morning it rained. Before getting totally soaked, I had to park my bike, and finish the path walking under a covered path.

This afternoon, as I was finally escaping the lab, I was walking back to my abandoned bike, when I pitied the little dick in my keychain. He was so dirty. I had him for many years already. He couldn’t be used as a lantern anymore and was quite inconvenient as a keychain but I love it. It was a gift from a dear friend and sometimes I still find myself looking at him, nostalgic, as if I was looking to my friend. I decided he deserved a bath when I would reach home.

I had bought tomorrow’s bento and when I opened the bag to carefully place it next to keys, to make my duck jealous… There was no duck! How could I enter home if I had no keys!

I had lost the keys. Oh no! They are going to hate me. And changing the door is so painfully expensive and… 

This was a real panic attack coming.

I took out my secret weapon, a sachet of wasabi. Its burning aftertaste is the most effective technique to bring me back to NOW and remind me I need to breathe.

I decided I would go back to the last place I had seen my duck, following the exact same path, to hopefully find my keys back.

And as I rode on the path I realised that my mind wasn’t even looking for the keys. She was looking for a way to punish me. She needed the most painful way.

Firstly, I somehow felt off the bike. I injured my leg and twisted my hand.

Pain. My thigh’s skin was burning. It felt good. It felt so good.

Well deserved L. You know it, even if you are an idiot that always loses and forgets things. 

I was there, my body aching, my face finally smiling.

You would be lucky if a car could hit you on the way.

I was back with the forgotten reward of pleasure. Only being hungry and not eating could feel better.

There we go! Tonight, we won’t eat diner. You can still have your evening snack with J. later. 

I rejoiced but… hey! That was ED rejoicing, not me! What could I do to compensate for my stupidity and losing the keys?

The keys! I was riding my bike, because I was looking for my keys, going through the exact same places. I couldn’t remember when I had got lost in my thoughts and stopped paying attention to the road.

I know that at some point some other voices popped out. Some suggested that maybe I could finally try a true recovery bing tonight. Being so angry with me would mark that day that many recovered people remembered as the first day of their new life? Maybe I could make something good out of my mistake. I could binge and check that nothing bad happened.

Wait, do people plan their binges? If I could choose the date, I would choose the menu too. I would finish that pot of ice-cream that is almost full, because no one likes it. I was keeping in mind of course that this bingeing was initially a punishment to my stupidity so I would binge on something I don’t like. Was I going to enjoy eating too much, even for a second?

[…] There was no clue of keys on the way, nor where I parked the back. I have definitely lost my keys. […]

When I finally reached home, I accepted that this episode couldn’t block my recovery. I had to eat diner, something that I could easily prepare and comforting enough. I steamed a bun and cooked 2 eggs.

I started eating, as usual, by observing it. Today, the bao seemed more shiny and gluey. Maybe for once my mind was helping me, trying to make it more appetising? I was grateful to her, for allowing me some silver linings too.  I rejoiced, and full of new energies, bit into it.

All the juices came out, salty and sour. The crunchiness of the preserved vegetables brought me back to the experience too but… there was something not invited to my feast. I was chewing something soft that melted in my tongue. Something like… FAT in my vegetarian bun??

I opened the bao, and there it was, a whole piece of pork fat saying hello to me.

The anxiety paralysed me, and only a tremor responded as I tried to awake my body. Bigger than the hidden pork problem, I thought it was the fact that I had fully enjoyed that first bite with lard melting in the tongue and bringing life to the vegetables. I had loved it more than any other bite of recent bao.

I unconsciously rushed to the fridge and suddenly remembered that: 1) the tag was in Chinese so no way I could read anything and 2) we had three identical bags but one of them was of char sir bao, ie. roasted pork with BBQ sauce bun. A real challenge food that I had taken from the fridge, cooked from myself and… yes, enjoyed.

Maybe that was the point to have lost the keys, to overcome a fear, to realise of how much improvement I am doing in monitoring my voices, in sometimes allowing the uncomfortable thoughts to come and go.

I have a very long oath ahead, but after so many obstacles today (this post only covers 1h30 of my day, and I promise that the rest was not easier, all was real Hell), I am even more convinced of how much I want to recover. Because I am so sick of a sick no-life.

Epilogue: I went to the mall, to see if the Llaollao had finally opened. It was closed. I was really craving for yogurt. I remembered the macadamia butter, the granola, the fruits at home. Was it emotional eating? I don’t really care but a lot of emotions came with each bite. All this transcribed here, was structured while I was delighted by my own frozen yogurt creation, that I shared only with my new friend called “body“.

“Your soul needs you to heal deeper to elevate the past hurt, to transcend beyond what happened, to let go of what no longer serves you.” – Black Jaguar


One thought on “A tale of lost keys and surprise bun

  1. Pingback: Today I decide to be L. | Recovery may seem hard, the alternative is worse

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