I had a relapse the other day – full on b/p, like the old days. Donuts, chips, crackers, chocolates, really anything I could get my hands on. I was trying to figure out what triggered it, but all I can come up with is that I’m just sad. In general, all the time. I miss my bestie who moved across the country. I feel overwhelmed by school, and pressure to be perfect there. My general anxiety has increased to the point where I’m always convinced people are talking about me or mad at me or don’t like me. It gets dark early now so I almost never see the sun. B/p-ing is a way to distract from all of that, and on some level it gives me something to blame for my failures other than myself.
I think I need to up my medication. But I don’t like my new doctor. My old psychiatrist moved across the country, so I had to stop seeing her after like seven years together. This new one is older, and spent our whole first appointment looking at the computer screen and typing very formulaic info about me (that I can clearly see). I don’t feel like I can open up to her, or like she gives a shit anyway. She’s a little overweight and I feel like she doesn’t take my body dysmorphia issues seriously, like she’s thinking “this skinny bitch has no right to complain about feeling fat.” But maybe she’ll understand anxiety at least.
I wish I could move across the country w/ my bestie; it’s warm and sunny there all the time.
Just had an a-ha moment in regards to one reason why I binge. I’ve always known it has to do with feeling overwhelmed or out of control; it’s like a little way of saying “fuck you, I’ll eat all the things I’m not ‘supposed’ to eat just because I CAN.” But sometimes I don’t feel like that fits – I’m not doing anything really stressful; just sitting on the couch – until tonight when it clicked.
My husband is an alcoholic. We’ve had conversations and screaming matches, I’ve made graphs and bawled my eyes out, but nothing ever changes. And so I guess that aspect of my life is ALWAYS out of control, leading to random urges – urges that get irresistible when he’s passed out on the couch before 9pm. So tonight I binged on ice cream, chips, and bagels. I feel disgusted with myself both physically and mentally, but it’s slightly helpful to have figured out a piece of the puzzle.
So all week I’ve been stuck in the binge cycle, finally culminating with a purge last night. Then today I’ve been eating shit again, and tomorrow I’m going to the beach and will have to be in a bikini hating myself. I don’t understand why I can’t quit this shit. Why can’t I stop eating before I’m uncomfortably full? Why am I so drawn to all the worst shit? Why do I keep buying binge food and keeping it in the house when I fucking know better? And why is starving the next day the only solution that seems reasonable to my fucked-up brain? Logically I know that doesn’t help. I know it likely is a strong contributor to my binging behavior. Why is ED able to override my logical side EVERY TIME??
After like seven years together, my shrink is moving to St. Louis. She wants me to get set up with someone new before our last appt next month. But I don’t want to. I’ve been doing this shit for half my life, and I am fucking tired of it. I’m so goddamn tired of caring so much about the numbers on the scale and on my pants. I am so goddamn tired of my self esteem being inversely correlated to the number of calories I eat each day. I’ll begrudgingly call my PCP’s office and ask for a referral a few days before I see my shrink for the last time only because I need someone to keep writing my prescriptions. But I don’t want to start over working through my issues. I don’t want to start over trying to be happy when it’s February and I haven’t seen the sun in a week and I’m eating a pint of Ben & Jerry’s for lunch. I just want to be a fucking normal 30 year old. I’m too old for this shit.
I often wonder if scientific exploration of EDs do more harm than good. Like I know I sometimes exhibit traits of Aspergers, but getting an actual diagnosis of an intellectual disorder like that would cause my self esteem to plummet. I need to think I’m normal with some minor issues; anything else sends me into a spiral of hopelessness. I often imagine my “normal” coworkers talking about my craziness and it makes me want to be more stringent in my eating so as to at least have control over something in my life. I actually bought diet pills the other day in the hopes of losing 5-10 lbs – hoping that if I can at least get my weight on track I can play like I have my life on track. I don’t know how to get out of this spiral. Help?
I’ve been doing well. Like, working out fairly consistently, eating three meals and maybe a snack but all well-balanced, not eating massive amounts of junk, etc. But then yesterday (Friday – I don’t care that it’s technically 1am on Sunday now) I b/p-ed on a whole bag of peanut butter M&Ms at work, and today I just ate junk all day and only actually ate two meals. I also haven’t worked out since Tuesday or Wednesday. So okay two days won’t undo a whole weeks worth of progress right? Except I can already see it. My fingers are puffy, my stomach is bloated, my skin is breaking out, and of course I just feel huge and gross. Sometimes I almost wish I was back in my ED full-blown, like b/p every day multiple times bad, bc then at least then I’d know why I felt like shit, why I was miserable, why I couldn’t stick to a meal plan – I had ED to blame it all on. But now, I’m supposedly in recovery, and I still hate my body, I still want to cry half the time, I still obsess over food and can’t stop eating junk once I start, and I still struggle to wake up every morning. It’s like, what am I fighting so hard to get??
I distinctly remamber sitting in a therapist’s office six years ago telling her if I could just get back down to 127lbs I think that would be perfect. I also remember being in my college dorm room 10 years ago (Jesus I’m old) seeing the scale hit 120lbs and being absolutely horrified at how fat I’d gotten. I remember when this all started 12 years ago; I’d hit 124lbs after losing some weight just due to general busyness and thought I looked fucking amazing. I remember when the scale got stuck at 111lbs and I cried because I thought I’d never get to be skinny.
Now I’m 127lbs and I feel like a fat slob. I think 124lbs would be okay but I’d really like to get back to 120lbs. I see old pics of myself st 110lbs and am able to acknowledge that maybe I was a little thin and at any rate that isn’t a sustainable weight for me long-term. I wonder what 17-year old me would think of me now. I know 19-year old me would think I was huge, and 22-year old me would think I was skinny. And of course 27-year old me would just wonder and despair at what happened, how I got stuck at this higher weight after remaining exactly 122lbs for the last four years.
I wish I could go back to that 16/17-year old mindset, where I rarely thought about calories, was active because it was fun rather than to burn off my food, and always thought I looked hot and obviously everyone wished they could fuck me. I wish I wasn’t so fixated on a number, didn’t care about buying a larger size, didn’t let my entire mood be dictated by how flat or not my stomach was. It almost doesn’t even matter that I rarely purge anymore; I’m still just as miserable as when I was b/p-ing 10 times a day. To all those who have supposedly recovered completely, how did you get past this mental shit??