Rehab Truth:
Last week, I went on a business trip to Idaho and had a full out ED panic in the airport.
Wednesday- 7am in the morning – JFK Terminal 2-
And there I am pacing the airport halls like an Eating Disorder secret service agent.
WHAT DO I EAT? WHERE?
HOW MUCH?
WHAT TIME IS IT?
7?!?!?! 7:00AM. 7 O’CLOCK.
(I CAN’T EAT YET.)
BUT YES, LINDSEY, YES YOU CAN.
(YOU’LL BE HUNGRY BY 11)
WHO CARES IF YOU’RE HUNGRY BY 11-
(SETTING YOURSELF UP FOR FAILURE)
YOU’RE HUMAN AND YOU HAVE TO EAT.
(NOT TILL 12)
JUST EAT SOMETHING AND MOVE ON.
(UGH.)
Bagel? I thought, peering towards the cafe beside me.
NO- TOO MUCH TOO SOON.
Croissant? I said aloud, feeling my mouth salivating.
BUTTER.
Bagon, egg, and cheese biscuit? I mumbled, pushing forward- past my gate.
GROSS – IT’S NOT EVEN EGG WHITE
Hudson News store? I can grab granola in the bag.
NO- binge food! I corrected, moving past.
Gate 6-7-8
Are you even hungry- or just feeling hungry because you’re awake?
I try hard to feel one with my stomach – and fail.
I turn the halls and start back up the line, past the Hudson store, the croissants, the Sausage, egg, and cheese burritos.
Coffee- I decide- veering towards the Starbucks.
WAIT- NO, I say- veering out.
Coffee just helps me not eat.
I sigh.
Throw my bag on the ground.
Throw a mini emotional tantrum in my head.
I’m a hamster on a wheel.
Go back to my seat- sit down – self-deprecate.
Calm down.
Text my therapist.
Start over.
Start over again.
Start over again and again and again.
One foot in front of the other.
I lop back down the hall.
Sigh for being so difficult.
Sigh because it’s never easy.
Grab a coffee-
“Tall, please” I say.
Find a granola bar. A banana.
A Chobani yogurt.
I walk back towards the gate.
I’m okay, I remind myself.
I think about the hiking I’ll do in Idaho.
You’re fine dude, I think.
I think about how fortunate I am to be in an airport traveling.
I sit down and eat.
I think about all the times I traveled and sipped coffee.
All the views I missed because I was thinking of hunger.
One bite after another, one meal at a time.
I move on with my day.
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Continue reading ““Hey, Don’t Forget to Pack Your Bulimia”: Traveling With An Eating Disorder”
