Tag Archives: binge eating

While On Vacation

I went home to attend a wedding. While there I hung out with various friends.

The best thing said to me the entire time I was there:

while being hugged – “you’re wasting away”

The worst thing said to me the entire time I was there:

after eating dinner at a friend’s place – “wow, I’ve never seen you eat so much in my place before”

Sidenote, I ate the same amount of food as my friend in an attempt to appear normal, it wasn’t like I had a binge session at her place or something.

Guess which of the two comments has repeated itself in my head every day since it was said to me. Guess which of the two comments has fueled my restricting tendencies. Guess which of the two comments makes me want to cry, to scream, to quit this ridiculous thing called life.

Only one of those comments affected my behaviour, the way I feel and see myself, my self-esteem…and you can bet your ass it wasn’t the compliment.

 

 

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Two Days So Far

Two days in a row I have binged and then taken various pills to try to mitigate the damage. sigh.

I wish I could throw-up, I’ve tried so many times to purge that way but I can almost never seem to manage it. So instead I over exercise, and take pills that hurt my stomach but are supposed to rush the food outta me, and I take laxatives just in case the other pills don’t help, and then I restrict way more than normal for however long after that I can manage.

And oh yeah, during all this I hate myself, and isolate myself, and can’t focus on anything because I am so overwhelmed by the thoughts in my head.

I went for a long walk tonight after my first binge of the day. Partly to try to burn some calories, partly because I like to walk as it lets me think and not think all at once, partly because I enjoy listening to music while walking, and partly because it was finally dark out so I could go outside – after a binge I prefer to exercise, or do anything really, in the dark because while I am horrible to look at on a normal day, after a binge I feel especially hideous and can’t stand the thought of people looking at me. I’m judging myself enough thanks very much, I don’t need others doing it also.

I only walked 8km (5 miles). I should have walked for longer but all of a sudden, while walking, I got super tired, and my legs were feeling heavy, and I realized that I didn’t think I could finish the distance I had planned, so I cut the walk short. Lame I know. I should have pushed myself to go farther, but I caved.

Normally after a walk I don’t have any muscle pain or aches, things you get after a real workout, cause it is just a walk, but since I got back my legs ache. As if they got a real workout, but again, it was just a walk, so I don’t know what’s going on with them. My lower back is kinda sore also, but I’ve put some heat on it and I’m assuming by tomorrow it’ll be fine. Legs too, I’m assuming by tomorrow they will be fine also.

I must be getting out of shape to have such a simple thing as walking noticeably affect how my body feels. I’ve been taking part in a fitness challenge, in the last 7 days I have had 6 workouts. I guess I should up that since my body seems to be getting weaker and I’m trying to make it stronger. Well, thinner and stronger, which I am aware are goals that are at odds with each other.

It used to be something I spoke with my counsellor about but since I don’t have him anymore I guess it is just something I will speak to myself about. Or not think about at all. Ah yes, one more unsolved issue to have floating around my brain, awesome.

It has now been 2 weeks without him. I’ve stopped talking about him to anybody that knew about him because I don’t want to seem like some obsessed crazy person. I don’t know how to explain what I feel in regards to him. It isn’t like a crush, or when you break up with a boyfriend, or even when a friendship ends, but it is similar enough to some of the emotions that come up in those situations that I feel a bit like I do when I’ve been dealing with the end of a relationship.

And I’m kinda mad at him that he gave me hope. In his own odd way. When I said I was upset cause I’d never see him again an stuff he gave me this reassuring, compassionate, expression, and said I don’t know that, and I’ll have him around helping me for a while, and stuff like that. As if he is going to magically reappear in my world somehow. But he isn’t. And I have to acknowledge and deal with that. He isn’t going to reappear at my program and be my one-on-one counsellor again. He isn’t going to pop up somewhere else in my world and become a friend. He’s just a person that I spoke with for a short time that I’ll never see again. And that is messing with me. Usually people you tell private, important stuff to, are people you will see again, people you can contact, people you know. But now, I’ll never see him again, he’s probably already forgotten I exist, I’m spiraling from losing him as part of my support team, and I’m never gonna know what happens to him. Does he get a great job? Does he do amazing things? Does he have a happy life? I dunno. And I never will know, because it isn’t my place to know that about him, but I had this false sense of friendship because of our talks together and I feel a loss that I will never know those things about him.

I sometimes make up stupid scenarios in my head about running in to him. At one of my sports team’s competitions, or just when I’m out doing something. He told me in our last session that if he ever sees me, due to ethical stuff, the most he is allowed to do is nod, he can’t come say hi, I would have to initiate contact. And we can never be friends, unless, maybe I am better from what he used to counsel me about, and he sorta stretched the ethical rules. So even if I did run in to him, and say hi, it would never go beyond that superficial quick convo before we both went on our way.

I don’t want you to think I’m wanting to date him or something, I don’t, that isn’t what this is about. It’s just, I think he is someone who would be cool to have as a friend, not for the counselling stuff, but because he’s funny, and in to fitness, and has a relateable way about him. And I think that if somehow we had met in real life, not in a counselling session, maybe we could have been friends. I mean sure, I know we never would have met, our lives don’t cross paths anywhere and even if they did he’d never glance my way, but it is just this feeling I have.

It’s stupid. I know it is stupid. But it is how I feel.

I think all these feelings floating in me, about this, are manifesting in binges, and restricting, and self-harming, and other not healthy coping skills. I also have sunk in to a “don’t care” mentality and skipped meal support today. I also would have skipped drop-in but I got convinced to go by a friend. I feel like, without him there helping me, I can’t do this on my own, so why try. Why put in the effort when all I’m going to do is fail? Seems like a waste of time to me.

I miss him. I miss our sessions together. But I’m not supposed to miss him, so this is just one more thing I am alone in dealing with. And the person who would normally help me deal is him, but obviously he can’t help with this, and I don’t know how to deal with this, so I’m engaging in damaging behaviours and I don’t really care about the hurt I am doing to my body because really, what does it matter?

Changes

I’m not great at dealing with changes that aren’t my decision. Which, really, covers a lot of changes.

Usually I can bring myself around to being ok with the changes given enough time, how much time is needed is really dependent on what the change is and how off guard it caught me.

Something else I’m not good at dealing with is people going away. I guess you could say I have abandonment issues. *rolls eyes* I’m usually pretty good at pulling away and cutting ties first, before the other person can, and that has always worked for me. Every now and then the other person manages to leave first and it reinforces to me how I have to be more diligent and make sure I am the strong one who is leaving, not the weak one who is left behind.

But there are two people, one who left but is coming back, and one who is leaving soon, that are part of my treatment team, and the changes are really fucking with me.

My case worker disappeared ages ago. So long ago I don’t even remember for sure when she left! It sort of didn’t matter, since I was seeing someone else one-on-one, and already set up for my next group. I really only see her at the end of an 8 week group where she and I have a debrief and she tells me what group I go in to next, or I guess I could reach out to her in distress or with a question but I never have. She was co-running the group I am in now so her leaving meant someone else came in, but it is someone I know and am used to so I didn’t mind that she was there. What I did mind was that a different doctor, let’s use the initial M for her, was all of a sudden everywhere. She was co-running the drop-in instead of my case worker, she was co-running my core group, she randomly phoned me one week to talk about the core group, she had someone else come speak to me after drop-in because of something I had written on a check-in form we fill out at the end of our weekly group session. Seriously, I can’t get away from M if I try, and it was like she was taking the place of my case worker, and I don’t like that.

I don’t like that she left. I don’t like that some other person seemed to just step right in and take over all her stuff. I don’t like that nobody tells us anything so I have no idea if or when she is coming back. She could be dead for all I know.

Then this past week I find out she is coming back in the next week or so…and it seems I don’t know how I feel about that. She just left, out of nowhere. And now she is just allowed to waltz back in and resume where she left off? Does this mean she is still my caseworker? She doesn’t even know what I’ve been doing these past months while she’s been away. I don’t know if I want to deal with her again because I have trust issues and it took a lot for me to tell her anything and trust her to what extent I had been able, and then she left, and now what, she’s back so I’m just supposed to automatically trust her again? Or still?

I dunno. It’s weird to me.

The other person, let’s call him B, is the counsellor I see for one-on-one sessions. He is technically a student, doing his practicum work, and he is done in three weeks. This is even more stupid, because I knew all along he’d be gone somewhere around April, I knew he wasn’t a permanent part of my treatment team, but he has also been the most helpful person to me, the most supportive person in my journey, my time with him has had more impact on my recovery than any of the other groups combined. Which is kind of funny considering I signed up to meet with him thinking I’d meet with him once, not like it, and back out but feel ok about it because at least I tried. But it turned out I didn’t mind talking to him, and in fact, my sessions with him have become a huge touchstone in my week and I will be lost without them.

I know he is leaving. I have always known he was going to leave. I didn’t think I’d get attached to him, but I did. And I don’t know what I am going to do once our one-on-ones are over. I know he isn’t a friend, he is my counsellor, but he is the only person I speak with, who doesn’t have an eating disorder, who knows I have an eating disorder, who I can talk openly with about whatever I want. I can tell him flat out I need help figuring out if something I am thinking is messed up or normal. I have had him pry information out of me on days I am shut down and not able to access my emotions. He has seen me confused, sad, pissed off, and I know that is his job, I know him being there and helping me through shit is because it is his career, not because we are friends hanging out, but I feel like I am going to miss having him around the way I miss having a friend around. There will be a noticeable absence in my life, my routine, and in this case, my mental health support system.

I don’t want him to go, even as I want him to graduate and go do awesome things.

I don’t deal well when I lose people. If they come back it takes me even longer to trust them again. When they leave it affects me not just on the surface, but right down to my core beliefs, because their leaving reinforces all the negative shit I feel about myself, all the negative outlooks I have on life, society, everything.

I know it is messed up. I know that I knew the whole time he would be leaving. I stupidly let myself get used to having him around and I actually started relying on him, and now I don’t know what to do. How am I going to cope? If it was anybody else leaving I’d be talking to him about how to cope but I can’t very well go to him about this. I can already feel myself shutting down as a defence, to help stop or block the hurt I know I will feel when he is really gone. I am getting moodier, more depressed, not laughing or talking as much, withdrawing from everything, getting more aggressive, more sarcastic, binge eating more, then restricting more. All sorts of things that are manifestations of how unhappy I am are popping up and I don’t really give a fuck.

I’m becoming more anti-social? Who cares, it is how I am normally anyways. This whole making friends thing was an anomaly that wasn’t going to last anyways.

I’m talking less? Participating less? So what, I don’t need people to talk to, or groups to participate in. I’m fine on my own, always have been, always will be.

I’m relying less on my support system? I should be. Support systems are for losers, for wimps, for cowards, who can’t face the world alone. I am alone, I am strong enough to take care of myself because I am the only one who will.

Deep down I’m confused and sad? Screw that. Bury those emotions, squash em down until you don’t feel them anymore, they are a waste of energy and make me weak.

I hate this. I hate that I used to not be aware of shit like this, I just was how I was, and now I am more aware but still completely incapable of handling the overload of emotions. So now I am overloaded on top of all the shit I am feeling, and vaguely aware that my coping mechanisms are not helpful to my recovery or to living a normal life, but again, don’t know how to not engage in them. So I’m aware that I’m sliding, but not equipped with enough skills to stop the slide.

This fucking sucks.

 

No one is watching me slide below street level

Barely alive

Do You Ever…

Do you ever have such a crap day that you feel sorry for your cat because he deserves such a better human than the one he got stuck with?

That was me yesterday. And still today.

I was spiraling over the past week but didn’t really notice. My descent in to depression was masked by my physical exhaustion caused by my new training schedule, working two jobs, and attempting to ya know, function like a normal person…by that I mean take out the garbage, wash dishes, the basics.

I got the shift I was supposed to work Sunday covered and I did nothing. I’m not exaggerating. I slept in, but not a good sleep. Got up. Made tea. Zoned out in front of YouTube. At some point made more tea, and continued with YouTube. I eventually switched to Netflix, so I guess that’s something. I had no interest eating but around 4:30pm figured I should probably take in something, so I had some soup, oh the excitement. *rolls eyes*

Eventually I showered and went back to bed.

I could feel the depression settled in my body, it was a physical weight I couldn’t escape. It was evident in my posture, my facial expression, my inability to think beyond how miserable I felt. There was nothing for me yesterday except misery. There wasn’t even any hope for escape from it, or motivation to move beyond it, it was everything I was, everything I thought I would always be.

I don’t know why it lifted a bit today, why I was able to function to some degree today, why I made it not only to work but also my drop-in group this evening. I didn’t make it to practice and I’m beating myself up about that immensely, but at the same time, I would not have been able to do any good out there and would have most likely injured myself from lack of focus and proper form.

Yesterday I restricted, not intentionally, it was just a by product of my depression. Today I have eaten two pastries, fries, and ice cream. Not all at once like when I binge though. It was spread out, so I guess it was consumed more like a normal person’s over eating, and not a binge? It was stupid. I didn’t want it, wasn’t feeling hungry, in fact was feeling kind of nauseous and not wanting sweet things, and yet, I ended up in a bakery. I hate myself. sigh.

I have no idea what tomorrow will bring. I only work one job tomorrow, so maybe I’ll be ok, but I do have two training sessions, so I’ll still end up physically exhausted, if not emotionally.

The depression is I, I am the depression. There is no escaping it, no true reprieve from it, just the knowledge that it resides in my bones, in my soul, in my brain, and will always be waiting to strike out and remind me who is really in charge.

I Can’t Even…

Every Friday, without fail, I go to the gym. I don’t think it is an ED thing so much as it is a time slot that fits well with my schedule and it became a habit to go then. That and I enjoy it.

With my one-on-one counselling we decided to change my workout plan a bit because after some delving in to shit in my head we discovered that while my weight workouts are enjoyable and don’t seem to feed my ED the cardio part of my workout does feed my ED. So as a challenge I shortened my cardio.

It sucked. I hated it. I felt like I was cheating on my workout. But I did it. I didn’t die or get instantly fatter and well, maybe it was a thing I could do again.

Thing is, the past 2 Fridays I go to the gym, I work out, then the next day or two I am sick. I mean, I am sick already, I’ve been battling a bug (or possibly two) for a couple weeks now and it seems that every time I work out after work it flattens me for a couple days. I work weekends and can’t afford to keep missing work because I am kicking my immune system in it’s ass with my workouts. I was toying with not working out tonight after work, in an attempt to be self-caring and all that crap, ya know, baby the body in the hopes it finally gets healthy again…well, as healthy as it can get considering how I eat I suppose. 😉

I was leaning on the side of still working out, because I didn’t want to miss my Friday evening workout – the gym is nice and quiet, it’s the best workout of the week!

And then shit went down.

There is a swinging door at work with the tiniest window and massive blind spots on either side. I was just about to push the door open, so my left foot was up mid-step, when another staff member pushed the door from the other side, really really hard. It smashed in to my foot, pushed my toes back really far, and as a bonus spilled the just made cup of tea I was holding so I burned my forearm.

Just. Fucking. Great.

Do you know how much paperwork is involved when a staff member gets injured? I do because I’m usually the person handing it over to the other staff members when they get hurt and threatening them with me in their face at every moment of their next shift if they don’t fill it in asap and get it back to me.

I’m not worried about the burn, I sometimes self-harm (real winner of mental health over here!) and my chosen method is burning, so I know how to handle that just fine.

My foot though is another story. The more I walked on it at work the more it hurt. Even when I sat and rested it, it hurt. By the time I got home my limp was pretty impressive. I had a shower, propped my foot up, and have been babying it all night. It still hurts though, which sucks balls.

The bigger problem for me though is…I didn’t go to the gym.

Now, ok, part of me, a teeny tiny I think rational part of me, is saying it is fine I didn’t go. In fact it is probably good I didn’t go because I would have definitely made the foot worse.

The larger part of me is saying I am a failure for not going. If I was really dedicated, if I really wanted to get to my goal, if I really cared about my fitness levels, if I really wasn’t a loser, or lazy, or pathetic, I would have pushed through and gone to the gym. Now I might as well give up. I will be a lame ass next week and find a reason to not go then too I bet, because that is what I am, a lazy, disgusting, fat, weak, loser who was just waiting for an excuse to not work out that they can then use for weeks and weeks until it was like they never went to the gym. This is the beginning of the end. May as well give up now.

I couldn’t get my brain to shut up. It was circling with these thoughts, I couldn’t make them go away, I couldn’t fight them, all I did was believe in them. Whole heartedly, 100%, believe them.

So I ate.

I ate my feelings away. I squashed them down under ice cream and cookies. I ate and I ate and I ate and for a little while my brain was quiet. All the insults, all the stressing, all the fear, it all went away. Then after a brief, too brief, quiet moment in my head, it was all replaced by guilt over what I ate, shame over letting myself go, horror at how much I ate, disgust at how much of a pig I am, hatred over my actions, realization that I am not dedicated, I am not strong, I am not a fit or on the way to being a fit person.

I am nothing.

I am a slob of a person who literally ate their feelings in to submission, only to be swamped by new, worse, feelings. Feelings that I earned, that I deserved, because our actions show what we truly want. Our words can say anything, our actions are what we should pay attention to. And my actions showed who I really am.  All the horrible things I am.

I say I don’t want to be those things, but if I truly didn’t want to be them I would have sat with the first batch of uncomfie feelings rather than indulge myself, eat all that food, and now have to deal with the consequences.

I am glad I got injured tonight, I deserve the pain. I deserve every pound of weight I gain. I deserve every stomach ache I get. I deserve every single drop of guilt I feel. I did this to myself, I deserve punishment.

And trust me, tomorrow, it will be meted out.

Sick

Last work week (I work Fridays through Tuesdays) I got exposed to a plethora of germs because people at work decided that even though they were sick, like, super sick, they’d still come to work because “I never get sick, it isn’t that bad”…only to have to leave early because of just how sick they were.

I really, and I mean reeeally, hate when people come to work sick.

Keep your freakin germs to yourself people!

Anyways…

When I was leaving work Monday I was feeling it, the sore throat, the sniffles, the tiredness. Definite signs I was getting sick. I ran errands instead of going to the gym like I had planned and stocked up on DayQuil, kleenex, throat lozenges, the apple juice mentioned in a previous post, and Vitamin C drops.

A sick person’s survival kit!

I didn’t end up as sick as the others though and stupidly thought I’d managed to escape the horrible-wish-I-was-dead version of this illness. Now I think I might have just been incubating it and it is about ready to make itself fully known…just in time for my new work week. Fuck.

I spent Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday taking things easy. I mean, I still had things to do (a work shift Tuesday and two appointments Wednesday in regards to my eating disorder recovery) but other than those things I stayed at home, read books, cuddled with the cat, and tried to let my body rest.

Oh, and I took AirBorne, I swear by that stuff.

Wednesday I thought I was pretty much better and I’d be able to go to the gym Thursday, Thursday came though and omg I think I am getting worse. My voice is kinda going. My sinuses are doing worse (plugged and runny nose at the same time, super annoying!), I’m cold, can’t focus, basically a lot of the symptoms of, oh I don’t know, a sick person.

So tomorrow, because I can’t find someone to cover my shift I will be that person who goes to work sick, and spreads her germs. Ugh.

In regards to my eating disorder, getting sick like this does not help me at all. Well, unless you listen to my eating disorder, it is practically doing hand stands because of how little I am able to eat when sick.

Even when not sick I suck at following a meal plan but I try to eat twice a day…which depending on where you are in recovery sounds like not enough or way too much. To me it still sounds like too much, but I try really hard to manage it. It took a while to build up to that much food in one day and I don’t really like it, shrug.

When sick any thought of following a meal plan basically goes right out the window. My appetite disappears, nothing tastes right, I have even less interest in food. Most of my brain thinks these are all great things but the part of me that is learning shit in recovery knows that these aren’t great things.

My ed brain says:

Eating broth and drinking tea is a totally acceptable thing to do. One bowl of broth is definitely a days worth of calories.

My recovery side says:

Not enough food dumb ass.

My ed brain says:

You’re sick, you don’t have to eat when you’re sick. Don’t worry about it.

My recovery side says:

The less you eat the harder it is for your body to get better. You need nutrients to get better. Eat something!

My ed brain says:

If you’re going to eat something then you’re going to ruin all the benefits of being sick. Think of how quickly you’re losing weight right now. Think of how easy it is because you don’t have an appetite because you’re sick. Why throw that away? Be strong! Don’t eat! You don’t need food! But if you do eat then you might as well binge because you’re a failure, a loser who can’t manage the simple task of not eating. You don’t deserve to be skinny. You don’t deserve to get to your goal. If you’re going to eat then eat something ridiculous, something high calorie, something that will make you feel bloated, and overly full, and gross, because you deserve to feel all those things if you eat, because you failed.

My recovery side says:

It says nothing. Because it is barely a whisper in my mind on my best days and it can’t stand up to my ed brain when it is on a roll.

So here I am, sick. I did manage a meal the other day that had all 4 food groups in it. A small meal. Probably it is classified as more of a snack, but to me it is a meal. And a win.

Today…not so much.

Today I ate soup, though I had two bowls instead of one, which I guess counts for something. And I had some bread, because I am weak and I like bread…but is it weak that I like bread and choose to eat it or is it ok to eat something I like, in moderation…I question this but I know what I feel the answer is, it is weak, and I am weak for eating the bread. Just because I like it doesn’t mean I should eat it. I like a lot of things I don’t eat anymore. Bread is useless calories, unnecessary food, I should really get rid of it, sigh.

I weighed myself today and am down 3 pounds in three days. Which the majority of me is thrilled about, but also terrified I will screw up and as a result of the terror my brain has been screaming at me all day to not eat ever again or those three pounds will pile back on with a whole bunch more. But ya know what, I ate the soup anyways, so fuck you voice!

Oh god, I don’t mean it, I do mean it, I don’t know what I mean. I’m so confused.

I don’t want to be a lost cause to my recovery team. I don’t want to be one of those people who they feel is beyond their help and is let go so someone more deserving can be given help. I think I am one of those people though, and they’ll figure it out soon, and I’ll be left alone to deal with what is in my head, and I will fold to the ed and stop fighting even the small amount I am fighting, and I’ll be screwed.

You know, this post was going to be about how I lost three pounds in three days and isn’t that so great? But apparently I have other shit on my mind right now…who knew something could be bigger in my head then a lower number on the scale? This cold must be really messing with my brain. *rolls eyes*