Tag Archives: fat

War

I feel like I am at war with myself and I don’t know which side I want to win.

Lots of people talk about the whole eating disorder voice, how you have this voice in your head that tells you what you can and can’t eat or how much to exercise, or whatever – it is different for everyone.

But…I don’t really get that, I’ve never connected with that whole “voice in my head” thing. The choices I want to make, the rules I have about food and exercise, the way I look at food, it doesn’t sound in my head like a different voice trying to take over, it sounds like my voice, my thoughts, my choices, it is just me. Plain ‘ol me. Not some internal demon trying to take over.

I am the one making the decision to eat, or not eat, and if I do eat deciding what I will eat. I am the one in control. I don’t feel at the mercy of some voice in my head.

Sometimes this makes me wonder if I don’t really have an eating disorder, because I don’t identify with this idea of having a voice that sounds different than mine in my head.

This uncertainty, combined with my natural defensiveness and instinctive rebellion against authority is making this whole recovery deal a bit hard to grasp, or believe in.

Hence the war.

The dietitian I am seeing wants me to eat certain amounts of certain food groups daily, spaced out on a loosely timed schedule.

I don’t like it.

But do I not like it because I don’t agree with the plan on a nutritional level, or because I don’t like being told when and what to eat, or because I am feeling judged for how I do eat and feel like being given this framework to follow is a set-up for showing how flawed my choices are? They are all viable options for answers.

Every time I try to follow the plan the dietitian made I fail. Actually, not true, I managed it for two days, and I became permanently bloated, my abdominal area was distended, my stomach hurt all the time, I was miserable, so I stopped. I had to stop, what she wanted obviously wasn’t working. There is a flaw in her plan and no point in continuing with it when it is doing me damage.

That is my rational reasoning behind not doing what she wants.

I feel she won’t agree with that reasoning though…

This is getting off topic, mostly because I don’t really know how to put in to words what I am feeling, sigh.

I feel…

hmm…

I feel like I am at war, with myself, with my dietitian, with my case worker, with the world. I feel like I know what I want to look like and all I really want is help getting there but instead I have people trying to sabotage me and take me in the other direction.

I am getting fatter every day. I’m scared to step on the scale but I can see the fat in the mirror. I am losing some of my bones. I am getting rounder. I am contemplating joining a gym again even though I can’t afford it because winter is here and I won’t be able to run outside soon. I am terrified all the time, terrified to get dressed because any day now my clothes won’t fit. Terrified to look in the mirror because I am so fat and disgusting. Terrified people are going to start commenting on how big I am getting. Terrified my recovery team will somehow force me in to eating more – I’m not sure how they could, I’m out patient, and an adult, so they can’t force admit me, but the fear is there. I am terrified to be left alone near food because I feel I’m losing control and will just eat everything visible if given the opportunity. I am terrified that I’m losing my willpower. I’m terrified that I’m going to hurt myself again even though I said I didn’t do that anymore and I always keep my word. I’m terrified I’m going to get so desperate I’m going to pull out my laxatives and diet pills again, even though I said I’d stopped using them, because desperate times call for desperate measures. I’m terrified for the chest pains that come with the using of the pills, I’m more terrified that every day I am more and more ok with the chest pains coming back if it means the pills are working.

I am terrified.

And I hate it.

This battle is internal, and I don’t feel it is against some weird outsider voice that is in my head, it is against my own voice. The battle is me against me, the weak me and the strong me. The me that wants to be skinny badly enough she’ll do anything to get there, and the me that forgets the end goal and caves when she sees a pastry.

Why is how I think about food so wrong? Why am I supposed to look at it as fuel, or enjoyable, or as something that makes me healthy and strong? Why can’t the way I see food be ok?

If the things I think about food are my own thoughts, not some random voice’s thoughts, how do I know which is the right or wrong choice to make? When I think “I ate twice today, that is plenty, no more food for me” it seems like a perfectly rational decision. A decision that is my own. Not an invasive thought from my eating disorder. Just like when trying to follow the nutrition plan the dietitian gave me I struggle with doing what she wants because my thinking doesn’t align with hers and why is my thinking wrong and hers right?

I know I am not making sense, I told you I don’t know how to put what I am feeling in to words *rolls eyes*

Maybe I’ll figure out a better way to describe what I am feeling another day, shrug.

For now I guess I’ll just stay confused and at war.

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Bulimia or OSFED

Last week I got my diagnosis, sort of. I am either Bulimic or have OSFED. shrug. To be honest, I don’t really care what my diagnosis is. The doc said something about a sub-type restrictive, I wasn’t paying too much attention though.

He asked at the end of our appointment if I had any questions and I said no, I always say no when asked that by anyone, and inevitably I come up with a question when it is too late to ask. sigh.

I don’t understand how I can be labelled bulimic when I don’t throw up. I thought a core component of bulimia was throwing up…isn’t it?

I guess because I use laxatives and diet pills and exercise to counter act the food I binge eat those are being counted the same as throwing up…that is my best guess anyways. I’ve always wished I could throw up whenever I wanted, it seems a much more effective way to get rid of the food I binge on but I can never seem to manage it. Actually, that is a lie, I have very rarely managed it, but I never throw up a large quantity so I’m definitely not getting everything out, which makes it seem not worth the trouble. Plus, I like my teeth and don’t want them to rot out of my jaw due to all that bile eating away at them.

So here I am, a person who restricts daily, except for when she goes bat shit crazy and binges, and when she binges she then takes loads of pills to try to rush the food through her body, and who increases her exercise to try to mitigate the damage all those calories are doing to my body.

I don’t feel better having a diagnosis…not sure if I was supposed to feel anything by having it. I’ve read how some people become so attached to their diagnosis, it becomes part of their identity, I don’t seem to be having that problem here.

Guess that just goes to show how we are all different, shrug.

Today was a food gong show and I am so not happy with myself. 😦 I was out of town (only an hour away) and was about to start the drive back but had to get gas, I was super hungry, as in that level of hunger that can’t be ignored. I wanted to ignore it because I was actually driving back in to town to attend a dinner with my team so I knew I’d be eating within an hour and a half or so, but I caved and bought some almond M&M’s.

Why do I do these things?!

I started eating them sooooo quickly while driving, it was insane.

I didn’t eat the entire bag, I managed to get a hold of myself and stop, but I’m not sure how many are left in the bag because while driving I sorta put the bag off to the side and tried to pretend it wasn’t there, then hid the bag in my glove box when I got to the restaurant, and left it there when I got home.  Maybe I only ate half the bag, maybe three-quarters, maybe all but two of them, I just don’t know.

So there I was, feeling nauseous from the influx of chocolate and almonds and I was going to dinner. Ugh. We went to a Congee restaurant and I had no choice over what was ordered, the menu was pre-picked by our coach, and when I got there I was late so everyone kept pushing food at me so I could “catch up”. In situations like this I lean heavily on picking vegetables and shrimp, I don’t touch the rice, I usually don’t touch the noodles but tonight I did, and I took some of the beef and some of the chicken. It is all served “family style” so think Asian restaurant where all the food comes on platters that are placed on a large turning platform that is in the middle of the table and you take little bits of whatever. So when I say I took “some of the beef and some of the chicken” I literally mean two bites of chicken and about 4 bites of beef.

The good side to when we go to this restaurant is because it is expected you take a little bit at a time and put it on a smaller plate you never are expected to have a full looking plate and it is super hard for people to keep track of what you ate. So if I am strategic and time things right I can get away with only eating 3 or 4 bites of food the entire dinner.

Tonight I wasn’t strategic enough and ended up with more, and when I think about how I have no idea how anything was cooked or what was in any of the sauces or marinades I shudder. I imagine I ate over 1000 calories in that meal alone and that horrifies me.

It gets worse though.

We then went for coffee or tea and donuts after the dinner. It would have been worse and been ice cream but people wanted somewhere closer so to the coffee shop we went. I ordered a tea (that part is fine), and a Tim Bit (that is a donut hole). I thought it would make me look like I was blending in while everyone else was eating their cookies or donuts but it actually made me stand out because everyone thought it was so strange I ordered one Tim Bit and they kept commenting on it and teasing me about it. It didn’t actually bother me too much because that has been my go to for years, a single Tim Bit, you get the flavour of the donut with less of the guilt or calories.

When I got home it all came crashing down on me though. The M&M’s, the dinner, the Tim Bit. How can I fix this?? I couldn’t go running because (1) I’ve got this weird, super high level pain in both my hips that isn’t getting any better and is preventing me from running, and (2) it was really late, and dark, and chilly, and not safe to go out. Instead I pulled up workouts on YouTube and did some of those. I usually scoff at home workouts but this one got me sweating and moving a lot and it made my stomach feel better, like it moved the food along a bit faster. Thank goodness!

So now it is almost 2:30am, I am tired and going to bed soon, my stomach is growling which confuses me since I ate a lot today, and my hips ache and make me feel like an old person.

Not my finest day.

I guess though, since my one and only thought after dinner was how to get rid of that food, and throwing up is not a real option for me (though I keep trying), and my workout was specifically chosen to help mitigate the damage eating did, that counts as the purging part of the bulimia diagnosis?

I dunno…and like I said earlier, I’m not so certain I care. I’m not married to the diagnosis, or even to the idea of having a diagnosis. I wonder if there is a real point for me to have it, besides doctors being able to label me I mean.

Just one more thing to ponder I suppose.

Weight Gain

I have gained 1.5 pounds.

Don’t mock me, don’t say “it’s only 1.5 pounds”, don’t belittle that gain, please.

To me any gain is bad. A gain as large as 1.5 pounds is tantamount to failure, to derailment, to the beginning of a long lasting damage inducing binge cycle.

When I gain I go one of two ways. I either say I’ve screwed up can’t fix it now and go on a food bender that lasts anywhere from days to months and causes physical, emotional, and psychological damage. Or I go in to damage control mode and I clamp down on everything, I restrict like it is my sole focus in life (because it is), and I have nothing else on my mind but eating as little as humanly possible, while moving as much as physically possible, until I not only lose whatever I gained but lose more than that, so I have a bit of a safety net on the scale.

It is possible the weight gain is muscle, I have been back to my sports practices again, and I’ve been doing more manual labour type things at home, so maybe I gained a bit of muscle mass. But I don’t think so. I have been lax lately, having little nibbles of things I would normally never touch. Tasting foods friends bring me to try instead of saying I’ll try it later and then throwing it out. I’ve have a couple binges, some huge, some not so huge. And on top of that I’ve been vaguely trying, some of the time, to eat in way that would be more compliant to what my recovery program asks of me. My nutritionist has been on vacation so I sorta took that as an excuse to stop trying the stuff she asks me to do, but some days I kinda sorta tried, like the other day I ate three meals in one day! I mean sure, small meals, that combined didn’t get me to over 1000 calories, but still, eating that many times in one day is unheard of for me.

And that is what I blame the scale number on.

Not being more active. Not gaining muscle.

Nope. I blame it on weakened willpower. I blame it on my failure to control what goes in my mouth. I blame it on me and my inability to stay strong.

I blame me.

I am livid. Devastated. I punched a wall after I weighed myself. Then I almost cried, not from the pain of punching a wall (I am used to that), but from the pain I felt inside when I saw that number. The aching, jagged, pain, that was in my chest, radiating out to my whole body, letting me know how badly I had failed.

Is or is not my goal to lose weight?

Why yes, yes it is.

So why then have I been sabotaging myself by having nibbles of things here and there, having binges, eating more than one meal and one snack in a day?

Either I don’t want it badly enough, or I am weak and unable to resist the thing I want right now for the thing I ultimately want.

discipline

As soon as I left the bathroom after weighing myself I went in to food lock down mode.

Only very specific foods are allowed, and only in very specific combinations, and only in very specific quanities.

Today I ate 1/2 C oatmeal before work. At work I ate 1/3 C cubed beets and a turkey sandwich. That puts me at 548 calories for the day. On top of that I drank 6 cups of tea. Normally I would have had a diet coke but I ran out of time at work and my rule is the only thing I ingest after work is tea and water so alas, no diet coke for me.

I will get rid of this 1.5 pounds. And I will lose more than that to prove that I can. And I really hope I lose it before Wednesday, at the latest Thursday. I want to be more definitive about the “when” but my body has proven to me time and time again that it loses on it’s own schedule, all I can do is enforce the rules and wait till it does what I want.

I can’t gain weight, I can’t allow it, it is not a thing that is ok in my world and I will fight weight gain with every last inch of strength in my body.

I can do this. I can be strong.

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The Brink of Tears

I’m fairly certain that eating two eggs (scrambled) on a hoagie bun is not an activity that is supposed to make a person almost cry.

And yet…

I feel like it has been almost an entire week of failure. I had my massive binge last Sunday, then days of physical recovery from that, then I ate half a pack of cookies a different day, then I ate some cookies and ice cream last night, then today I ate food after coming home from work.

In my world these are all massive failures, and having them all happen in one week, one right after another, is messing with my head.

I’ve got to get a handle on things over here or I’m going to end up back in the land of binges multiple times a week and I can’t handle that. I just…I just can’t.

Normally I don’t eat when I get home from work, when I work an evening shift I don’t get home until around ten at night. Once I am home I shower, do random things, make some tea, and by the time I might even be slightly thinking of food I’ve decided it is too late and I’m not going to bother. Doesn’t matter if I feel hungry or not, I don’t eat. I used to, and I found that was one of my most likely times to binge, so I cut that shit out. My body got used to the not eating after work thing and I stopped feeling hungry when I got home, something I count as a win!

But this past week I have really fucked things up. All those random extra high calorie foods has got my body thinking it wants more food and it has the nerve to send me hunger signals. Signals I am scared I might not be able to resist.

You might be thinking whats the big deal, if you feel hungry than eat. But I’m scared that I will eat things like ice cream, or other high calorie disastrous foods that I don’t let myself eat and that whatever I do eat I will eat in large quantities because heaven forbid I know and follow things like proper portion sizes.

Those, fyi, are totally valid fears.

So tonight I was in my post-work shower and couldn’t figure out what I was feeling. I wasn’t sure if I was feeling hungry or if I was feeling like I wanted to eat but for reasons other than hunger. Maybe I thought I wanted to eat but I was actually just bored, or thirsty, or upset about something…I should be careful because no point in eating if I am not actually hungry but being tricked into feeling hunger, right?

I knew that my brain kept thinking about ice cream so I promised myself that if I was going to eat it would be an egg, maybe an egg on toast (which is how I usually eat an egg), but at least the egg. It has protein. It is healthy. I am allowed one a day and I haven’t had an egg in a while. Plus, if I was legit hungry than an egg is an ok option for taking care of that hunger. If I am not actually hungry well, an egg won’t cause too much damage, least not as much as say, ice cream.

I ended up scrambling two eggs and putting them on a toasted hoagie bun. I don’t know what came over me. All those carbs. TWO eggs in one day. Ugh. Broke sooooo many rules with that meal, and yet, I ate it.

After I ate it and there was no turning back from what I did I sat there, watching a movie but hardly paying any attention to it, and I wanted to cry. I kept thinking about how last week I would never have even considered eating something once I was home from work, even if I had felt hungry I wouldn’t have eaten something, and today I caved because I thought I might be hungry. And not only did I cave I ate something that isn’t a safe meal (though I suppose it is a variation on one) and I ate a way larger portion than normal. This is on top of eating dinner at work aaaaaaaaand some oatmeal before going to work.

That is three freakin meals in one day. THREE!

Now do you see why I wanted to cry?

I feel like a failure. I have let myself down. I am so depressed and I don’t see the point anymore.

I look in the mirror and all I see is a fat, disgusting, woman. I have rolls of fat. My stomach sticks out so far it is heinous. Every part of me is swollen, and pudgy, and gross. I swear it wasn’t this bad last week. That binge started me on a free for all that has resulted in me looking noticeably fatter already. How is that possible? Why does it take so much hard work, so much dedication, so much sacrifice, to lose even one pound, but I can gain so much of that lost weight back in one stupid week.

The scale, urg, the scale. I didn’t step on it today but I stepped on it yesterday and it showed I was the same, but it has to be lying because I can see what I look like and I am definitely noticeably fatter. 😦

So I sat there, post egg on a hoagie bun, realizing that I have just pushed myself farther away from my goal by caving and eating.  Realizing that I was already noticeably fatter when I went to work today and now that I came home and ate some more food I am going to be even fatter tomorrow. Realizing that tomorrow I will step on the scale and will hate myself. Realizing that I am a failure. Realizing that I had gone so long without a binge, then I had one last Sunday and I am still dealing with the fallout from that binge. Realizing that what is the point of recovery when I’m still binge eating after all this time. Realizing that recovery may not be for everybody. Realizing I am freakin exhausted and I wish it was like it was before I realized I had a problem because I may have been engaging in just as many (or even more) bad for me behaviours but at least I was oblivious to just how much I was fucking up and could pretend what I did was normal.

This sucks. And I still want to cry. But I don’t do stuff like that so instead I’ll go try to sleep, at least when I am unconscious I am not aware of how much I hate myself.

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The Pain

Can a person cause physical damage to their stomach, or other parts of their digestive system by the size, or speed, or length, of their binge eating session?

I binged last night. And not like a smallish, sorta manageable, have less guilt after, the next day seems normal, kind of binge. Ooooh no. Yesterday’s binge was a take no prisoners, leave no food behind, cause all the bodily pain and discomfort possible, feel all the guilt, have physical problems the next day kind of binge.

I have been feeling sick all day. Sick to my stomach. Sore throat. Headache. Trouble thinking. Distended abdominal area. Inability to eat. Painful abdominal area. Constipation. All of it and then some!

I wanted to call in sick to work today but couldn’t. Then I toyed with going in but saying I was sick and leaving early but I couldn’t do that either. We were short staffed and there was no one to come in. Plus, it is a stat today and I really need the time and a half. So I looked at being there as my punishment for my binge.

It was the longest 8 hours. After work I went for an hour fast walk with a work friend, then I showered and met for a meeting with two other people. During all of that I was feeling sick. I guess I looked it because people asked me if I was ok, when I said I wasn’t feeling well they said they could tell…which is the polite way of saying someone looks like crap. *rolls eyes*

It is almost 11pm, it has been over 24 hours since my binge, and I still hurt. My stomach is still distended. My abdominal area looks like it gained back all the weight I have lost! Not even an exaggeration, it is disgusting. I still feel sick to my stomach. My throat hurts because my stomach was so full yesterday stomach acid was coming up my esophagus. My mouth has been creating more saliva than normal, what’s with that?

Is it possible to cause physical damage from your binge session? Like, can you hit an overload point where your stomach just says “fuck it” and stops working because I feel like the food is still sitting there and it is causing me so many problems.

I am so mad at myself, so incredibly disappointed. I don’t know why I did it, but I sure as shit regret it. I need this pain and sickness to go away. I need the abdominal area to go back to being smaller. I need this to clear up because all I can think about, all I experience, all I feel, is connected to that binge and lemme tell ya, that is putting my head in a dark place I am not sure I know how to get out of.

Whyyyyy did I have to decide to quit my laxatives and other purging methods? I want to take a pill to move this whole thing along so badly buuuut I don’t want to feel guilt over caving and taking something when I am at a record length of time not using any of those methods. Plus, the last time I used them they caused similar physical sensations, bloated, painful abdominal area, weight gain, sick to stomach feeling. I’m scared taking them will make all of my physical problems even worse instead of better.

I am so frustrated I want to cry.

Think an er would pump my stomach and fix this problem if I lied and said I overdosed on something? I did technically overdose, on food, that’s a thing, right?

Binge

I’m writing this on my iPad, I hate writing posts on my iPad, and I’m using my whining as a last ditch effort to avoid talking about what I actually want to talk about…

I binged. This evening. I am laying in bed, I feel so incredibly sick, and miserable, and it is taking everything in me to not take my laxatives, or my metabolism boosters, or to try to throw up. 

On top of trying to resist doing any of those things I am also trying my damndest to resist hurting myself. 

Those things I just listed, the pills, the laxatives, the self harm, those are the only coping skills I have, I haven’t learned new ones yet. 

I don’t know what to do, I’m so incredibly upset with myself. I think this had been a record length of time without a binge and now I’ve fucked it all up. I was weak, and stupid, and I fucked up. 

Physically I feel sick, my stomach hurts, my stomach is distended, I have bile coming up my throat from being too full, I feel like throwing up but haven’t….yet…

Emotionally I feel sad, depressed, I’ve let myself down, I feel like a failure, I feel like screaming and yelling and punching something and fighting but I also feel like curling up in a ball and crying and hiding from the world until this passes…though right now it feels like it will never pass, I feel like I’ll be in this hell forever. 

Mentally I am berating myself, I am reminding myself over and over of all the calories I ate (roughly, I wasn’t exactly counting as I gorged on food), I have been restricting for so long and now all that work is thrown out the window. I have things to do tomorrow and I’m going to have to do them while feeling the physical effects of this binge and dealing with the emotional hangover that I always have from a binge, and I’m going to have to work twice as hard tomorrow to make up for the food I ate today. I keep telling myself how much I suck, how I must not want to be skinny badly enough, how I can’t even stick to my restricting plan, how I fail at everything and it’s no wonder my acting career hasn’t taken off yet if I lack the conviction to succeed at something as simple as losing weight. 

And because I have taken no action to rid my body of this food I want to hurt myself. I need to hurt myself. I deserve to be punished for the stupid act of binging and if I’m not going to punish myself by taking pills or throwing up then the least I should be doing is burning myself, or cutting myself, or making bruises, or something, anything!  By doing nothing it is like I condone the behaviour, which I don’t!

I’m so mad at myself. At my weakness. At my actions. 

And oh man do I feel sick to my stomach from all that food. Ugh. 

I hope I remember for a long long time how I feel right now so the next time I’m tempted to binge I can stop myself, and remember it is so not worth it. 

Official Weigh-In

Every Thursday I have what I think of as my Official Weigh-In. I weigh myself everyday at home but my scale is not as accurate as a scale I have access to on Thursdays so I use my daily at home weigh-ins as a guideline but if asked my weight or when I think of my weight I go by the number on the Thursday weigh-in.

My scale only goes by the 0.5 but this other scale gives much more accurate numbers, so instead of a ###.5 it might say ###.3, and accuracy is important!

Yesterday I put in a 14 hour work day and wasn’t home and in bed until almost 5am Thursday morning. When my alarm went off so I’d get up for weigh-in I hit “Stop” instead of “Snooze” and next thing I know I have missed my shot at being weighed in on the better scale.

Arg! 😦

So. Annoying.

Alas, the world isn’t going to end, but it does irritate me because despite my long work day yesterday and some poor food choices made I am pretty sure I still lost weight this week. One and a half pounds if you’re wondering.

Yay!

Down from my two pounds lost per week for the last two weeks but see, that is where the decimal point number comes in to play. My scale said I was down 1.5 pounds but it could be higher, like 1.8…it could also be lower, like 1.4 but let’s not focus on that k? 😉

Another annoying thing about my scale is it always shows me as lower than the better scale. Now, this could be because I weigh myself at home right after going to the toilet and only wearing panties (sorry for the tmi) whereas the other scale has me wearing clothes. Oh the hardship of weighing in somewhere other than your own bathroom, le sigh.

I am always so much happier with the number on my scale than the more accurate scale, but only because it shows me as lower than what I suppose I actually am. The only time I lean towards thinking it is more truthful is one day last summer when it was super humid out. Inside my place it was still nice and cool but as soon as I got outside the humidity got me and by the time I got to my weigh-in my hair was frizzy and I could feel that my skin was retaining water, or is it that my body is retaining water? Either way, I could feeeeel the effects of the humidity, and the scale sure showed it! The lady weighing me said everyone was up that day due to the humidity and not to worry and I think she was right because the next week I was down all that I had “gained” plus some.

While I don’t have my official weigh-in results, thanks to missing my chance, I still know I went down because of what my scale showed me when I got up. I just don’t know for sure what I weigh right now, officially, and it is driving me a tad nuts lol I wanna know!

Not knowing though won’t be an excuse to go all crazy food wise. In fact I think it’ll just have me work harder so that next week when I step on the better scale I can have that much more of a loss.

Dedication. It sure can achieve results! 😀

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