I had a dream last night about weight. I dreamt that I woke up and I went on the scale and I was 149 lbs. This made me panic and I kept getting on and off and on and off the scale, thinking that it was a glitch because in reality, I am much lower than that, but every time I would get back on the scale my weight would go up and up. This was terrifying to me, I mean it would be for anyone, but just starting out at that weight is like my worst nightmare. I mean, I have had anxiety attacks just thinking about getting up to the weight that my nutritionist wants me to get up to so seeing an over thirty pound difference was intense. I woke up crying and even more afraid to get away from this disorder because what if I wake up one day and I am that weight? What if I am that weight and become the person I fear I will be if I get that weight? I don’t know what I would look like but I see myself know, every inch of imperfection and think that I can’t even get any more repulsive but yet everyday I wake up more disgusting than I was the day before. That’s what my scale says anyways
The most frustrating thing about having an eating disorder is that it doesn’t make sense. So when you try to explain when you are having a major ED crisis or why you don’t want your ED to go away is nearly impossible. All I have had today was almonds, a scoop of cottage cheese, and a grilled cheese and I see that in the sentence that this isn’t enough for a day, but in my disorders mind that is like a thanksgiving feast and I deserve to purge or restrict. That’s like the core battle between having an eating disorder and people that don’t is fighting logic with feeling. Logically, what will purging do for me? What will restricting do? Will this one meal make me fat or gain pounds upon pounds? No, it will not. This disorder will kill me if I use logic and fact to think about it that way. But this disorder isn’t about logic, it makes you so distorted that your mind tells you that what is fact, like eating ice cream once a month won’t make you fat, into a personalized fiction. So you believe it for everyone else but not for yourself. My dad is eating a cookie right now, and I don’t hate him, I don’t think he is pathetic, after he is done with his one cookie I won’t be able to tell a difference in his weight, I don’t think he deserves to make himself throw up or run for an hour and I sure as hell don’t think he should be killed because of a cookie. For some reason when I eat, I can feel my body getting fatter, I deserve to hate myself, that one cookie is a perfection representation that I am nothing, I am a worthless, pathetic person, I deserve to purge or to run or to self harm and I deserve to die. I just finished my meal and my disorder is killing me right now. It was a sandwich, almonds and cottage cheese, I have been fasting for almost 24 hours and plan on doing it again. Shit if someone told me that they weren’t going to eat for a day, I would get pissed off, like why would you want to do that? But I deserve to. I don’t deserve food.
So I can’t argue with you or explain every thought of this because your argument is a valid one. I would probably say word for word what you would say if the situation was reversed. I don’t understand what I did so wrong to have myself cry over a grilled cheese or have suicidal thoughts because of almonds. Why can’t I be like everyone else and have a meal and not feel like dying.
I don’t know if you have seen the documentary thin but one of the main characters Shelly, tries to kill herself for eating 2 slices of pizza. I remember watching it for the first time and it not making sense. Pizza? Dying over pizza? Now, it makes complete sense. I had chocolate covered almonds and afterwards I thought about going in my car planning on swerving it off the hill that goes into my neighborhood. Over almonds. I just remember sitting there crying and thinking who the hell do you talk to when you are planning on committed suicide and what sparked it was almonds? I called the renfrew number they gave us when we were feeling suicidal and they helped but it was so humiliating. People’s eating disorders make them feel like they are in control until they start trying to fight it and it becomes more and more clear that food has such an abusive control over you.
I hate this so much. I hate this disorder. I want to wake up and be okay.
I feel like people have these high expectations for me to do well in this. To end this treatment and be so much better and i am not. I am so much further in this. It has never been this bad, it has never been this emotional and it has never been this loud. Before I lived with it, now I live afraid of it because it is the meanest and loudest thing in my life. I have to walk on egg shells from my own mind, and I have to eat what it says to eat, wear what it says to wear and be who the ED wants me to be because without this, I am nothing.
Honestly, I am terrified. I am terrified where this disorder is going to take me because I have come to terms with the idea that this disorder is probably going to kill me. I can’t fight this, I just can’t. But how is it going to kill me. It’s like someone giving you the name of the person who is going to murder you but you don’t know when and you don’t know how plus you have to live with this person every day.