Ah here we go again. Right now I'm really having a hard time with compulsive exercising. I used to love to run or play sports. . . A normal, healthy, balanced amount. But recently ED has been driving work-out after work-out after work-out.
I'm avoiding. I'm avoiding a lot. I'm avoiding admitting that this is becoming controlling and consuming. Every day I just justify it - "Well, I'm a healthy weight, so it's ok if i'm exercising this much." "My knee doesn't hurt tttthhhaaattt bad, so it's still ok." "I've done other things today too, like work and hanging out with friends, so this can't be that consuming."
But in reality, right now it's too much. And unhealthy. And definitely done to avoid dealing with my feelings. Turning to exercise and E.D behaviors feels so safe to me, in a twisted way. The workouts feel comforting, despite being painful, and that voice tells me that I don't have to be vulnerable to people, because I can just bring all my emotions to E.D.
But the truth is that the way out of this is by doing the opposite of what my head is telling me right now. Instead of turning to that fake 'comfort', I should be talking with my friends, relying on my support system, journaling more, coping in healthier ways. But I'm in addict mindset, where although I know those are likely the right things, I still want my "drug".
I wish I hated E.D more. . . I wish that every single piece of me wanted him out of my life once and for all. But I can't honestly say that. And that is hard. I don't know if I'll get to that point. I'm sure as heck going to get to a point where I am more healthy than this, but I think that I will definitely grieve E.D and maybe even always miss a part of him. Hopefully not much. Sigh. I just wish the process wasn't so slow and difficult.
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