I think this will be a brief post. It’s about food. What’s new right?
*brief mention of self-injury* *and food talk please be careful*
I just want to sum up some of what’s been happening:
While I was out some people I know started talking about my stomach and how flat it was (while I was standing there). Staring at it, commenting on it. Like it was a science experiment. After they left, I got so anxious I thought I was going to explode. I went to the restroom and started pacing in the tiny stall. I kept thinking that I needed a razor blade but I don’t carry them with me so I was screwed. I thought I was going to lose it if I didn’t self-injure immediately, so I clawed my arms with my fingernails until I left marks. Then I went and sat down and listened to services.
I ate, I hated it, I gained 5lbs, I told my therapist I would quit therapy if she tried to force me to change my eating, she said she would never do that.
I realized that if I eat I feel like I have failed at having an eating disorder, which makes no sense and yet, it’s the truth. It feels very important that I do this, that I not fail at doing this. I can’t explain it, but every meal feels like I have failed. I was miserable restricting calories and exercising until I couldn’t breathe, but I’m more miserable now so I choose this. But now I have to undo all that I did. I failed and I have to get my control back. I’m not interested in “getting better” right now because right now my health is fine, I look healthy. There’s nothing wrong with me. So why change when I will hate myself.
In 4 days I lost 4 of the 5 lbs gained which only strengthens my belief that my body doesn’t work the way everyone’s does. It wants to lose this weight and it wants me to do it this way.
At lunch my mother-in-law said to me today, ‘But you’re not dieting?’ as in ‘You’re not dieting right?’ and I said that I was as in “Duh!”. At which point my father-in-law asked me a question which distracted me and I heard her say to my husband, ‘She’s already skinny’ in this really horrified quiet voice like I was doing something wrong. In that moment I felt so much anger towards her that I wanted to bash her head against the table. I’m still angry, right now. Why? I have no idea. But her comment keeps repeating in my head over and over and I just hate her for saying it. I don’t understand it. But it was like it was the worst thing she could have said to me. Strangely, the waitress who seated us and, who may I say, has only seen me a dozen times over the past several years, asked me if I had lost a ton of weight. I said yes. She said I looked fabulous or amazing or something. I didn’t get angry. I was more bewildered that I had made enough of an impression as a giant fatso. There was little pleasure in the compliment, mostly embarrassment knowing that people noticed how fat I was.
Ok, I think I was going somewhere when I started this post but my meds are kicking in so it’s over. I have a lot of work to do to accomplish what I want and I don’t have therapy this week because of the holiday. I also have to make my resolve firm so that my husband’s presence during his time off does not railroad my diet.
I’m sitting here with a full stomach and it’s the worst feeling.
I’m out guys. Later…