I was talking to my other stenographer today, the one who hasn’t called me “fat” or “stupid”. She asked why I was breathing funny, I told her I popped a rib in floor bow last night and couldn’t get it back in so I couldn’t take deep breaths. She was like “OMG! Doesn’t that hurt? How are you even here?!” I was like “dude. This is nothing! Didn’t the other steno, or your boss tell you how I lost my hearing?” They hadn’t, so I did. She thought I was badass. In the middle of this conversation the teacher handed back our first test. I was the first person finished, and I got a 100%! She looked at me and goes “you are one of those really intense perfectionist types, aren’t you? Super athletic, super competitive, super driven, almost a little scary.” I was thinking, Yep, pretty much. That’s why I starve myself. but to her I just kind of laughed. Then she said the most brilliant thing ever… She said “most people never recover from accidents like that. I bet your kind of extremist personality is the reason you got better.” DUH! She is totally right. I love to torture myself, be it intentionally starving, or backbending through searing pain, or doing yoga with popped ribs. It ALL comes from the same place. And without it, I’d probably still be laying on the floor in my mom’s playroom (NOT like a 50 Shades “playroom” a regular kid kind), wishing the pain would just kill me.
I think, the voice that pushes me to starve is also the voice that pushes me to get better.