I guess it was only a matter of time before my disordered eating reared it’s uglyhead. For a couple of months, I have been floating through my blogging thinking I had found my magic pill. I thought a public account of my food and exercise would stop the madness. I have been in therapy for almost 2 years now, I had even contemplated not seeing her anymore. But then, last night happened.
Looking back, I saw it coming. A period of all or nothing in my life is generally followed by a binge. And last night was the night. On my way home from work, I had decided that I didn’t want to exercise. I was exhausted and I felt like resting was the right thing to do. In reality, this left me feeling very very guilty. Once again, my all or nothing thinking coming in to play. So, when my dear husband came home, instead of exercising like I told him I would be, I was cooking dinner. He said “Oh, I thought you were going to exercise” and the world as I knew it exploded.
The tears were pouring out, my head was pounding and I was overcome by emotion. After dinner, I sat in my emotional stew for a really long time, almost two hours. My thoughts were racing and every mistake I had ever made in my life was reeling in my head. I thought about my rough childhood, my failed relationships, my sad attempts at finding love, my past financial woes and even this blog. I thought about how it was so ironic that I had landed myself into a community of “healthy” eaters. Something I thought would help but has only left me feeling ashamed and guilty about the person that I really am.
Eventually, after I had cried so many tears that I think I was out of water, the thougths of food started to show up. I tried convincing myself that taking a shower or reading a book was the right answer. And before I knew it, I was opening the freezer and the next thing I knew, 3/4 of a pint of ice cream was gone. Was it good? I don’t know, I didn’t taste it. Did it make the awful feelings go away? No, it only made things worse but I think I accomplished what I set out to do. I put myself in physical pain in hopes that the emotional and mental pain would go away.
You see, in the midst of a binge all sorts of things cross through my mind. I am completely aware of what I am doing. I know that I am eating for reasons other than hunger or even pleasure for that matter. I am aware that every bite is making my stomach fuller and fuller and that the pain is coming. I am aware that I am consuming “way too many” calories. And even in my awareness of all of those things, I can’t stop. The urge is like an uncontrollable force. It hurts but the sad part is that at that time, the pain is what I think I deserve. A penance for all of the mistakes.
I’m not sure if you have read my “my story” tab where I touch on the binge eating and I’m not sure if you really knew what it meant. But this is it. This is my disorder.