Liar, Liar

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I never allowed myself to accept the fact that I have some serious trust issues. I always figured that since I told a lot of my story to so many people that I was an open book and overly trusted people. I realize now that I did that as a defense, if I was the one who told people my story, it gave the power of them finding out by themselves and drawing conclusions away because I was in control, you knew what I told you and all the deep shit, like my disorder or my past, went to those that earned it. Either that or I had insurance on them, knowing that if they told anyone, I held the power to equally fuck them over. There are a small percent of people that know because that’s how friendship works and I tell with complete innocence. 

But do I truly trust anyone? I like to think that I do but when I really think about it, not only do I not trust anyone, I hold so much anger towards people for ‘lying’ to me. It all goes back to my ‘logic dyslexia’, I can’t tell what is true or what is not. Any compliment people say to me, I automatically filter it as a lie. “I am so proud of you” lie. “You look so great” lie. “You’re skinny” lie. “You look so much better than you used to” Liar. “You are kind” Lies. 

Lies lies lies lies lies lies lies. In Arizona, they pointed out how angry I get when I talk about people giving my compliments and I think it’s because they hurt me. I avoid thinking about who I am and how much I hate myself as much as I can but when people say something nice about me, I am not only angry because I feel like I am being lied to, I am suddenly reminded of all the things I want to be and the things I am not. 

But who is the real liar? I would be dishonest myself if I told you that everyone who gives a compliment truly believes what they are saying, I’ve done it, you’ve probably done it, it happens. However, most of the time, when I give people a compliment I mean it. Simply because I don’t care enough to lie to them. I am beginning to question the idea that maybe people are being honest as well. It hurts to even type but what if I am wrong?

Today in IOP we read a short passage from the book Life Without ED at the part where her dietitian said that she needed to add more fat to her diet and let me tell you from an eating disorder perspective being told to add fat that is pure evil. She talked about how her eating disorder gave her a distorted image of what her body would look like she obeyed her dietitian. Then it hit me, my AHA! moment.

Do you have any idea how many hours I spent obsessing over the image that Anorexia gave me if I hit my ultimate fear weight? It consumed my life. I had this mental image of this fat ass who everyone constantly stared down at utter disgust to who I was and what I looked like. Guess what? I hit my fear weight and even though I am not my body’s number 1 fan, I don’t look like the girl I imagined and I don’t get the responses that I thought I would, in fact, I get the opposite. 

I caught him, I caught ED right in the act. Spot on, bitch. I don’t look like what I thought I would. I try really hard to mentally separate my ED thoughts from reality but I rarely believe it, I just know the difference by now. But I don’t look like the girl that ED said I would at x pounds. No where close. My life is not what I thought it would be at x pounds, I am not who I thought I would be, either. For once, I have physically, believably evidence that the anger towards the compliments goes to ED and not people who I love. 

I feel like a detective. I caught it and now, all these lies my disorder told be are becoming clearer and clearer and the anger that I had towards other, even at the beginning of this post, is turning into a mixture of liberation and rightful anger towards my eating disorder. 

 

I caught you, bitch

 

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