I start to feel good about myself. So I panic. I try to identify what is feeling good. And I try to recreate that. I haven't been eating bread. So that must be it. Obviously.
So I don't eat any bread. And I'm feeling good.
I can conquer the world. I'm unstoppable. And I don't eat bread.
Which makes me want bread. But I won't cheat on myself. So I don't eat bread. Until all I can think about is eating bread. So I buy some and eat 2 slices.
And then that's it.
I'm a fucking idiot who has screwed up her life because obviously it was not eating bread that had been making things good. And I've already screwed it up by eating those 2 slices, so why not 2 more. And while we are at it, I'll have a few cookies. Okay maybe 5. And now I've really messed up and ruined everything. So I eat a bag of chips. Followed by 9 danishes.
Then why stop? There's ice cream in the freezer. So let's eat that right out of the carton standing in the kitchen.
At that point in the binge there are no thoughts. There is only numbness and the automatic muscle memory of lifting hand to mouth, chewing fast, without thinking. Swallowing. Fast. Gulping down the food. Maybe if I can make the food disappear then I can disappear with it. Or at least my feelings can.
At some point the trance breaks and I am left with wrappers and crumbs and a very full belly and mounds of guilt and shame.
Them comes the struggle. The tears begin. I am a disappointment. I am a loser. I am out of control. My life is shit. I'm useless. Worthless. Undeserving.
Then the anger. How could I have done this? Why I am I so stupid? Why can't I stop myself? Why do I do this over and over again? Who is the boss of my body? How am I such an idiot?
And there is only one way to end the physical discomfort along with the shame. I need to empty myself of these feelings that I have shoved deep down inside of me with piles of food.
So I go up to the bathroom, close the door, put my hair in a ponytail and crouch down over the toilet.
And then comes the release. The purging of all that is bad and rotten and dark and secretive inside of me. It all comes out and I can flush it away.
For a few minutes.
Then reality sets back in. The reality of being weak. The reality of being stuck in this eating disordered way of thinking. And the shame comes back. Stronger than ever.
Because I know better.
So I promise myself that I'm not going to do that anymore. I'm going to be "good". I'm going to take care of myself. I'm going to eat right and exercise and I am going to feel good. When I want to binge I am going to do something active instead. When I want to purge I am going to email nosy Nora and tell her all the things I am thinking and feeling. What she aptly named "word vomit". I'm going to go to therapy and talk about my feelings. So I have no reasons to binge or to purge.
Then I start to feel good. And I panic. What is making me feel good? And what happens if I lose this shred of happiness. What am I doing different? And how can I keep doing it?
And the cycle repeats.
Restricting. Rebelling. Shaming. Restricting. Rebelling. Shaming.
There must be a way to climb out of this hole. To break the cycle. To break the chains that hold me in this pattern of shame and blame.
When I find the way out, I'll let you know. In the meanwhile, I will keep hanging on and I hope that you can too.
Be kind to yourself,
xoxo
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