The Day After.

Last night, I had a slip. The first in thirty-one days. I was in a different environment, uncomfortable, and I had an entirely processed pantry in front of me. Not an excuse, just a shot at understanding.
Just two days ago, I entertained the thought that I would never return to my symptoms, that I felt so comfortable being symptom-free, so proud, so healthy, that symptom-use wasn't even an option. It simply wouldn't happen. It's almost as if these thoughts occur only to be proven wrong. Feeling as if I'm on such safe, sturdy ground, to have that same flooring crumble and collapse beneath me. I will move on, today was better, but even after several fully digested meals, I still felt weak throughout my entire body, unable to complete physical tasks because of the sheer effort they required. Even after a month of no symptom-use, I would stand up and black out for several moments, unsettling me and reminding me of the havoc I've wreaked on my body. It's things like these I didn't seem to notice before, when 80% of my days were spent in bed, and the other 20% was spent in a numbing war.

I notice so much more now. The pale, beautiful ringlets in my sister's hair, orange-red sunsets with traces of violet. I have so much more now. Concentration, self-confidence, and even extreme happiness, at times. I wouldn't trade these things for the world, much less a sick feeling of comfort that ultimately resolves in feelings of guilt, shame, and anger. I know I am moving forward. I know this isn't the end of the road. It's just a speed bump. I am better today, and I have only stepped backwards once.

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Is there anything better than celebrating a day free from your eating disorder and your one-year-one-month anniversary all in the same day? How about with an amazing man? How about with delicious food? (That you don't have to cook yourself, obviously).

After sitting, reading, computing, and walking around in blankets all day, Jay and I defied the rain by driving into town and grabbing dinner at Iron Hill. Usually after a slip, I play it extremely safe, and often end up underfed. Today, though, I was feeling the need for something delicious and sinfully rich. I remembered the Cheesesteak Egg Rolls.
Forgive me, but this is not a vegan post.
I had them on my mind when we settled on Iron Hill, and they were delivered at just the right time, as in right before the gnawing off your arm stage.


Served with ketchup and horseradish sauce, they are the definition of ooey-gooey goodness. Wrapped with melty cheese and a crispy exterior, the thin slices of steak are well worth a breach of my mostly-vegetarian diet. I would only hope that the next time, the horseradish would be spicier!

Next came the entrees.


To counteract the greasy goodness, and because it's absolutely delicious anyway, I ordered the Mesclun Greens salad. Comprised of greens, Granny Smith slices, dried cranberries, pistachios and White Vermont Cheddar, and topped with an orange-vanilla vinaigrette, this salad is an item I frequently order at Iron Hill.


Jay couldn't walk away without a burger, as usual. He ordered the Brewski Burger, just as he did several entries ago. Except this time, it didn't look as pretty. I forgot to take pictures until we'd both already dug in! And they also changed their lovely deep green side salad to a mess of romaine and hastily diced tomato. What can you do?

The meal was quite enjoyable, and I loved even more spending the day with my favorite, Bubbaloo. Every day can't be perfect, but those rare moments seem to get pretty close.