Fixing my vacuum cleaner...and other ways of seizing control.

Today, I fixed my vacuum cleaner.  I know, you're probably wondering "so what?" or "what does that have to do with having an eating disorder?"  Well, on the surface, not much, but on a deeper, more symbolic, metaphorical level, it has EVERYTHING to do with it.  Allow me to explain.

The ugly truth is that my ED dominates every aspect of my life, especially when Mia is in charge.  The apartment goes uncleaned, my houseplants go unwatered, the bed unmade, the laundry undone.  Refuse and debris from past binges litter the counters and corners, chocolatey finger prints smear light switches, door handles and computer keys.  My checking account is overdrafted when I spend the last of my funds and more on an uncontrollable sugar binge in a futile attempt to glut myself beyond emotion, beyond sensation. My entire environment becomes an accumulation of decay, a physical manifestion of deterioration of the spirit.

I have no control over my urges, my life, my environment.
Or so it seems.  How will I ever achieve perfection if I continue in this pattern?

Enter the vacuum cleaner.  About a week ago, it stopped working, emitting a high pitched whine without sucking up any dirt.  I ignored it, accepted it, like everything else, as something beyond my control. It thought to myself, I get another one. Tomorrow. Or the next day.  I'll deal with it later...there's nothing I can do about it if it desides to break.

Clearly there is a problem with this way of thinking, but my mind is so full of Mia, of worrying about binging and purging, about NOT binging and purging, about eating, about NOT eating, there is no room for anything else.

That is, until I cleared room.  After just two days of following my eating plan, of not giving into the urge to binge and letting my body readjust to hunger's sweet, wonderful emptiness, my head is clearer. I feel more energetic, more alive.  I feel in control. 

So I look at my vacuum cleaner. After a few moments I dig into the bottom a drawer and retrieve a screwdriver. I take the machine apart.  I find the belt is broken.  I go the store for a replacement.  Once it is installed, I put the vacuum back together.  I pressed the switch to turn it on, and the contraption springs to life with a deep growl that devours every piece of dirt in its path. Success is mine. I clean my apartment, do my laundry, rearrange the furniture.  I nearly burst with pride in my own self suffiency.  This is my environment.  It is totally in my control. 

And isn't that what eating disorders are all about? Control of the body? Control of ourselves?  Well I won't let Mia be in control any more.

Today, I did more than just fix a vacuum cleaner.  I seized control.  And you know what? It was great. I ate less than 700 calories, I got in a workout.  I cleaned my apartment.  Seemingly small things, but without them, how will I ever achieve perfection?

Keep faking it,

--JK