I’m on holiday. You would think this is a joyful time but alas, I made a small error and that error grew into wild proportions. I had to take a Valium and go to bed.

My husband and I have come away for a three night stay on the west coast of Tasmania. We try to go away together at least once a year and sometimes we manage it twice. It’s kind of a big deal in our marriage. It’s mid-winter here and the west coast is renowned for rain. So far it’s delivered on its promise.

NOW, I HAVE TALKED ENDLESSLY ABOUT BODY IMAGE AT DIFFERENT TIMES

It is something I have struggled with my entire life. As my journey of recovery took on an upward trajectory in the past 15 months, I worked on the acceptance thing. Trying to accept myself as is, right now. I hear other people do this and it’s good for you.

But I struggle.

For a short while I did almost sense that feeling of acceptance. That it was okay to be as I am. I was feeling particularly well and healthy at the time. I’ve gained a lot of weight but otherwise my health is good and I still attend gym regularly. I should be grateful for this.

I talked to my psychiatrist about this last week – as my eating disorder behaviours have regressed. It shames me to say this, but I am restricting again. She concluded that I compare my body to other people and I have to agree. Although I was unaware this isn’t normal. It’s not something I’m proud of but I compare my body to everyone else and just see myself as a giant failure at all times. The old, you’re not good enough, message that was instilled in me.

I REALLY DON’T KNOW HOW TO CHANGE IT

So imagine my distress when I realised I’d packed all my clothes for the little weekend away, but I’d left all my underwear and pyjamas at home. At first it seemed very amusing – of all the things to forget. Then I was berating myself, trying to figure out how on earth I could forget anything. I’m usually so organised and I’d written lists and checked them off. I’m trying to absolve myself of blame by saying it’s my husband’s fault. Halfway through packing my clothes he came into our wardrobe to get dressed. That distraction meant I zipped up my bag, sans the key items.

By the time we arrived at our accommodation I was really starting to sense the panic. We stopped in Queenstown on the way to see if a shop could provide me with emergency supplies. In the whole of Queenstown you cannot buy underwear – I asked. Where on earth do people buy their knickers from?

When we arrived in Strahan we stopped by the pharmacy and it turns out they had two pairs left. Cheap, flimsy, made-for-nanna undies.

I GRABBED BOTH PAIRS

When we arrived at our room I couldn’t relax. I’m so used to coming home and slipping into comfy pyjamas. I don’t like the feel of wearing clothing so putting on loose pyjamas is part of my way of destressing the day away. I was stuck in my day clothes with all their constriction. My mood plummeted and my anxiety sky rocketed. I asked my husband what he had packed.

I had a long hot shower then put the flimsy nanna-undies on with one of my husband’s thermals and I felt vaguely better. But despite being married for almost 29 years, I cannot walk around in just my knickers. It makes me feel distinctly unsafe. It makes me feel judged and disgusting and unworthy. There may be no validity to these feelings but they’re there anyway. So I put my pants back on, with all the bits of mud from the day walks we did on the way here.

After a few hours of mindless television, with the effects of a Valium on board, I managed to wipe the sour look off my face and start to put things into perspective.

I saw this written in a meme the other day.

YOU CAN’T WEIGHT-LOSS YOUR WAY OUT OF BODY IMAGE ISSUES

How true is that? I started restricting because I was confronted with a pile of confronting situations that brought full attention to my body. And while my recovery is strong in many areas, it wasn’t strong enough for this.

As a close friend reminded me, I’ve climbed back on many wagons before. I confess I’m sick to death of getting on and off wagons but what’s the alternative? If I’ve fallen off I either get back up or stay on the ground and complain.

So for today, I’m tucked up in bed in flimsy undies and my husband’s thermal. I’m going on the hunt for an oversize t-shirt later today. One that will probably have a giant picture of a tour boat on it. And my recovery goal is now firmly focused upon banishing the body image beast.