I just moved into a condo with family where I'm going to be staying for the next couple of months. Of course, I brought my scale with me, because I don't know what I would do without it. I just need to know that number every moment of every day.
I laid it down on my new bedroom floor, stepped on and read 20.2
I had a moment of pure joy before the confusion set in, and I then realized I was getting an inaccurate reading because of the carpet.
The thing is though, I felt happy. No one can live at 20 pounds. My organs alone weigh more than twenty pounds. I knew this wasn't realistic. I knew the scale wasn't right. But I felt happy?
This goes to show how distorted the eating disorder brain can be. How we can want something that will kill us. How a ridiculous idea may seem great.
I definitely still have a lot of distorted ideas when it comes to weight, and here it was, highlighted in front of me. But I still don't want to accept that my goal weight is unrealistic. That I shouldn't push myself to those extremes.
As distorted as my thoughts may be, at least I'm recognizing them. At least I know that those thoughts aren't the truth. And knowledge is power.