So. Two things.
The first *whispers* I had sex.
The world did not come crashing down. I slept with a guy, who I like. It was fun. A lot of fun.
And? I know it’s only temporary. And I think I’m ok with that. I knew that going in. He’s very straightforward, and honest and stuff. One of the things I like about him. So I know his kid just moved away, and he’s planning to follow. He was planning to follow right away until his job screwed him.
I also know that if Emma somehow moved away, you can bet your ass I’d be right behind.
Last night Sid asked me what I am hoping to get out of the relationship. The answers that came up were: companionship, camaraderie, and sex. And fun.
I’m allowed to have fun!
In a way I think maybe it’s a good thing that this is definitively short term. Ease back into things, in a way. I’ve been able to talk about my feelings and stuff. I’ve been vulnerable, and intimate. I feel comfortable with this guy. (Even if he is vegan. 😛 )
When Sid pointed out that I had sex, and that I have effectively abandoned SLAA, my first reaction was anger, and I wanted to punch him.
But I thought about it, long and hard. (Pun intended! *rimshot*) And finally I said, “I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong.” “Did you think that was what I was asking?” “No. But I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong. I’m not using sex to run away from my feelings. I’m spending many hours every week examining my feelings, and will probably be, literally, crying into my dinner.” More on that in a moment.
I’m having fun, while also remaining aware of reality. This guy is going to leave. I think that, specifically, helps with one of the things I’ve often struggled with in romantic relationships: the happily ever after syndrome. Boy meets girl, girl sleeps with boy, theylivehappilyeverafter, the end. Maybe some love and or intimacy in there, but really trying to force an immediate happily ever after, without flushing out all the middle part, or even really leaving room for it.
So I’m not pinning a happily ever after on him. I’m going for a: he is going to move away, that will suck, and that’s ok.
Number two: I started IOP today. IOP = Intensive Outpatient Program. For disordered eating. Eating disorders. I’m trying to work on using those two words together. In reference to me.
So, it’s lots of hours a week.
Sometimes, more isn’t better. Like when you’re cooking something at 350 degrees, and turn the heat up to 700 so it’ll cook twice as fast!
Sometimes, however, more is better. For me, right now, more therapy is better.
I was there 3 hours tonight, and I figured out a TON. And, it’s like, I can’t wait to tell Robyn* about it. (My dietitian)
Dude. I am so that kid who tells the teacher she forgot to assign homework. I am 150% Overachiever!
Tonight’s meal was probably the most anxiety inducing meal I’ve ever eaten. There wasn’t even a clear “challenge” or anything. Just burgers, and stuff. But so much anxiety, knowing that other people were paying attention to me eating, and I’d have to talk about it and junk.
So much anxiety… and yet, I learned SO MUCH. So in this case, I think more therapy is better for me.
Oh, and I am also fully aware of the fact that I finally took the plunge and had my first sexual encounter post-separation… RIGHT BEFORE I started digging deep into the eating disorder.
Nope. No connection at all. None whatsoever.
And if you believe that one, I’ll tell you another…
I’m honestly a little anxious about my session with Tess later this week. Her background started in sex addiction, and it’s definitely come up how often both food issues and sex issues co-occur.
But, hopefully I can maintain that I don’t think I did anything wrong.
Hmm. And y’know what I just realized? I’m the one that gets to decide that.
I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not doing anything wrong.