Sometimes recovery means accepting that you do, indeed, have an inner toddler. A whiny, cranky inner toddler who never wants to listen. They are loud and a pain in the ass. They generally have a point. The key is to listen without letting them run the show.

What I've been struggling with the last few days is a nasty case of the "I don't wannas." Mostly, this has to do with food. I don't want to fix a proper breakfast, not because I want to restrict or lose weight or anything ED related. It's just that some days, I feel I can't be arsed. So it's real tempted to just grab a protein bar or whatever and call it "breakfast" because it's a hella lot easier than hauling out bowls and cereal and granola and milk and measuring cups.

I know by now that not feeling like getting breakfast (or lunch or snack) is no excuse not to have lunch or snack. But things like long term planning and sensible behaviors don't pacify my inner toddler. She doesn't want to deal with dishes. Or waking up earlier. Or doing any of those things that grownups generally do.

It's helped me to stop always wanting to behave like I feel a grownup should. A significant proportion of my friends on Facebook are mothers (some of them even have toddlers!), and I can guarantee that their general maturity level isn't always higher than mine. We all have inner toddlers, and we all need to tame them.

Sometimes we feel like being obstinate, just because. Sometimes we lose our marbles for no particular reason--or reasons that are no doubt legit but seem like small potatoes in the grand scheme of things. With time and lots of practice, I've come to realize that this is no big deal. It happens to all of us. I've also learned (mostly) how to let these little fits pass, or simply indulge them in my head. After all, snark doesn't have to be vocalized to make me feel better. ;)

The problem is when these pitched fits start making our decisions and running the show. I can resent having to fix breakfast or, like today, burning the damn toast for lunch.* I can hate having to do dishes and clean the house. I can piss and moan to my heart's content. I also need to suck it up and take care of myself properly no matter how much of a pain it is.

It's something I learned in DBT while in treatment, that two opposite things can be simultaneously true. So I let myself get cranky and hate having to do food prep and so on. AND I can still recognize that it's important and do it.

And on that note, thankfully, I have leftovers for dinner!

*Same setting as I used yesterday, same bread and everything turned out fine. Today? Blackened to a crisp, smoke detectors going bonkers, big scene. Sigh.

Between my stressful week at work and then food poisoning, my weight has dropped some. I suppose I wasn't that shocked to hear it- even with just the illness, my eating hadn't been optimal for several days. I was, however, a little startled at how much (my therapist was rather cryptic, saying "more than a few." I have my guess at what that means, but still).

I suppose I could launch into a rehash of the potential reasons why. I could have pushed myself to try and eat more while sick. I could have been more careful while at my work conference. Coulda, woulda, shoulda. I'm not trying to wash my hands of my responsibility in what happened, nor am I trying to take on responsibility where none existed (though I am kicking myself for eating that damn hot dog that most likely got me sick).

I tried adding a little bit more to my normal meal plan, but that didn't do much. In fact, my weight dropped slightly more because my metabolism kicked in again. This led to a very frank discussion about What I Was Going To Do About This.

The difference--the massive, can't-be-overstated difference--was that I was able to fully participate in this discussion and follow through with what I promised. I don't like much of what I'm doing- Ensure Plus can go suck it, thank you very much. Ditto for the extra snack. Again, that's not the point.

I don't need to want to do this. I do, however, need to be willing.

Frankly, I do think my therapist is being just a tad alarmist about a single-digit weight loss. I didn't feel that I had lost weight. I'm not keen on going back to the chugging of the Ensure and the metabolic shift that once again leaves me burning through massive calories just watching TV.

But I could see it as necessary. I know enough that every relapse starts with "just a little" weight loss, however inadvertent (or, well, not) it might be. I know that good intentions don't save you. I know that promising to eat more is a long way from actually eating more. I know that recovery can be really f*cking inconvenient and you still have to do it anyway because an eating disorder is even more f*cking inconvenient.

So in the past few days, I have been eating foods I haven't touched for years: hot chocolate, Pop Tarts (not exactly a nutritional powerhouse, but sometimes it really is just about the calories), chips. It wasn't as bad as I thought. It helps that I know my metabolism is fierce at the moment and can "handle" the extra/sloppy intake. We'll see whether my weight changes this week. If it doesn't, well, we'll deal with that, too.