My doctor considers me “in recovery” at this point, b/c I’m only purging like once every other month or so. But I don’t feel recovered. In fact, every time I eat something that seems like a good recovery move – like letting myself eat Mac and cheese, or candy, or whatever – I just feel like a complete failure. Part of me feels like I’m failing my ED by giving in. Part of me feels like I’m failing myself by using recovery as an excuse to eat garbage. And then all of me just feels like a blob. I’m afraid to weigh myself but I know I’ve gained again; my fat pants are now fitting just fine and the rest of my pants are far too tight. I miss when starving was easy. Its like the saying goes, “I wish I was as fat as I was the first time I thought I was fat.” I understand that ED messed with my head and made me even more unhealthy than eating crap sometimes now and honestly made me a little bit crazy, but at least my fucking pants fit. I just … I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. Help me.
I am such a gross blob. I’m also probably really unhealthy. I skip actual meals but stuff my face with Cheetos and candy. I never ever exercise. And I wonder why my body image is such shit??
I want to change. Obviously I want to lose weight but also I don’t want to end up with like diabetes or something like that. But ED has had me trapped in this binge-restrict-binge cycle for so long that I don’t know any other way of being.
I want to trust that my body will even out and my weight will stay stable bc even tho I won’t be restricting I also won’t be binging. But what if it doesn’t even out until I’ve gained 10-20lbs? Can I accept that as my new normal?? I honestly don’t think so.
But god how much more energy would I have if I was healthy and didn’t spend so much time obsessing about food and calories and weight.
Right before class ended (actual class, not finals), I was down to my wedding weight. Now I’m terrified to get on the scale, so I don’t have an exact number, but even my fat pants are too tight so I’ve got to be up 10 lbs.
Luckily the new year starts next week and I go back to class, so hopefully I’ll be able to shed this weight in a month – it’s no longer holiday season so there won’t be that pressure to eat sweets constantly, and I can go back to black coffee for dinner instead of peppermint mocha lattes and all that (delicious) sugary holiday shit.
I wonder if my husband notices? Not that he’d have any right to say anything; he’s gained like 50 lbs in the decade we’ve been together. But does he see my love handles and pouchy belly and jiggly arms and bat wings? I know he’s not into fat chicks, but where does he draw that line? And how thin can I get before he starts to get on my case about eating? God I wish I was a mind-reader.
But anyway, the New Years’ weight loss plan is nothing new. My concern is what happens when the spring semester ends and I’m back home all the time again. Will I just gain it again and be fat until the fall? Will the cycle ever end? Can’t I just find a happy medium and stay there? I honestly feel like I maintained my weight better when I was b/p-ing every day; at least then the net intake was approximately consistent. Now I’m rarely puking (although I did this afternoon, after eating half a sleeve of Girl Scout cookies) but I’m either ingesting 5,000+ calories a day or I’m restricting to 800. This is not sustainable! But when the alternative (daily b/p-ing) is even more harmful, what do I do? I’d rather be sick than fat.
ED is so fucked up.
B/P’d at a party tonight. It’s January 3rd. I couldn’t even make it THREE FUCKING DAYS in 2015 sticking to my recovery plan. And I was feeling all good this morning, making a healthy egg and veggie breakfast. I don’t know what happened; I just couldn’t stop eating and then I had to get rid of it. I tried to sit with it but I was too full; I just couldn’t deal with it. Fuck. I know I should try to salvage the rest of the day but I kind of want to just say fuck it and try again tomorrow.
I wish I’d never started this shit.