I feel like my head is going to explode, and not from a headache. Or maybe I feel like my heart is going to explode, and not from a heart attack. Or maybe I feel like my body is going to explode, and not from eating differently than I normally do.
It's not that I was suddenly eating incredibly intuitively, though I did better than I do in my home environment. It's not that I was totally unaware of focusing on my body during incongruous moments, though I wasn't obsessive about it. (Part of that, though, is generally because I'm happy with my shape/size right now... which is problematic because this shape/size is not what my body maintains when I'm treating it how I ought. But that's another issue for another post.)
So it's not that I did so incredibly well and acted so astonishingly non-disordered, but for whatever reason, I spent the long weekend and now the long travel day back experiencing them mostly as weekend and travel day, not as food disorder and body disorder. Mostly. Relatively speaking.
And now I'm home, and I kind of want to curl up in a ball and retreat from the entire world, taking only the cat and my Kindle, because asking anything else from me at the moment kind of feels like asking a diabetic to win a pie-eating contest*.
I don't know. Here. Here's a picture of some decomposing tree blossoms at the Atlanta Botanical Garden. My mother thought I was very weird for taking picture after picture of this. I mostly thought it was a striking image, what with the dappled light and the various stages of decay and all.
Fine. Here is a less morbid picture of a live thing.
* Yes, I know. Inappropriate. That's why I chose it.