Progress is progress, no matter how small

I've been reluctant to regularly update my blog. In all truthfulness, I am processing all of my past trauma in therapy right now (and have been since August) and it has been so difficult. I don't want to share these experiences and how I'm dealing with them on the internet. It's too personal and private. But when close friends ask me how I'm doing, and I say I'm having a hard time, it's because I'm struggling with trauma related issues.

But I do want to continue to write on my blog, and I believe I can do that without talking about my therapy sessions in detail. I will say that, as difficult as processing trauma has been, it's what I have needed to do for a long, long time. I work with an amazing therapist who is making this process safe and I am able to trust her.

Now, onto my progress. I honestly have hated that word for so long. Mainly because I feel like I hardly ever make progress, and that when I do, I tend to self-destruct. However, lately I have been making progress in areas that I didn't even know about until my therapist pointed them out. I've always struggled with feeling guilty for reaching out for help, and feeling so needy. And I apologize excessively for it. My therapist today told me that I have not bothered her, and there is no need to apologize. In fact, she said she thinks it shows great strength and progress that I am able to reach out to her when I feel like I need to, while being able to handle some things without her help. She told me to honor myself for making such progress. I was taken back by that, but in the end it made me smile.

On the eating disorder front, I am also making progress. I have not purged since July, and I really haven't had any urges. Like I said in a former blog post, my ER trip last month made me realize how much my body is suffering when I use ED behaviors. Lately, if I restrict for one day, I have a terrible headache at the end of the day. Restricting is becoming less and less. I enjoy food. I eat pretty much whatever I want, in moderation of course. I don't count calories. I haven't looked at my weight in 3 months. And I actually am beginning to like my body. It's crazy and I never thought I would get to this point. And it's amazing that I can actually get much better.

It's a slippery slope thought, and even though eating is going better, I got scared the other night when my dietitian was praising me for how well I was doing. I thought to myself, "well this won't last. it never does." I got really down on myself. I really want it to last this time. I know that there will of course be ups and downs, but I don't want to fully relapse again.

I am really thankful (and I know I say this a lot) for a really awesome support system and treatment team. My team of my therapist, dietitian and my psychiatrist is the best team I've ever had. Jane, the mom I babysit for, has become a person I can confide in. I have, Debbie, my second mom. And while I don't have really any friends in my town that I can be myself around, I have a handful of really amazing friends scattered here and there that get me and know me and love me.

So, like the title of this post says...Progress is progress, no matter how small.