And just one hour before I walked by him, I had been close to tears over the imaginary fat rolls on my intact and completely functional body. The amount of time and energy I spend stressing out over a body that is actually pretty perfect--as far as physiological processes, mobility, and other things that contribute to enjoyment of freedom and independence--should be criminal. I felt truly ashamed when I walked past that guy in his wheelchair, knowing that I had been stressing out about my thighs moving with each step while he was coming to terms with the fact that he would never even take another step.
Yes, objectively I know that AN is a mental illness that runs strongly in my family, and thus I shouldn't blame myself for it, but I still felt like the biggest ditz in the world after that poignant dose of reality. Nothing like a little perspective.
2 comments:
Like you said, AN is a mental illness...it's not like we can just "snap out of it." However, sometimes, there are just certain things that take us out of that world for a while. Perspective is always a good thing.
There's no need to feel guilty about having an illness. You can't guilt-trip yourself into being well. Your circumstances are much different than his.
I used to have somewhat of a similar experience, when I thought about all the poverty and starving children in other countries. I always felt bad because I had plenty of food, but my eating disorder never allowed me to eat it.
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