Lately I've been having serious trouble with my eating disorder resurfacing and my body dysmorphia being off the charts. So much so that I honestly had no idea that I hadn't eaten anything in over 12hrs last night when I finally sat down for dinner. It had not occurred to me that the reason I felt shaky and terrible and cranky and on the verge of the crying was, in no small part, due to not eating anywhere near the amount of what I need to live.
This is not uncommon for me and I really hate it. I hate the twisted mental gymnastics I'll do to justify restricting. I hate the obsessive "checking" behavior, the dark and nasty thoughts that become a relentless din. I hate the way I feel like a "better" person when I'm not eating.
But I think what I hate most of all right now is that I think/know I'm kind of fat and I don't want to be, but I can't find any healthy way of losing weight that doesn't trigger all the worst kinds of thoughts and behaviors. And I don't really know how "fat" I am because I can't weigh myself, plus my self-image is so distorted that what I think of as "fat" for me is who knows what in reality. I can't join any of those programs because they rely on calorie counting, exercise tracking, and even food journaling, all of which make me worse, not better. I walk every day now, which is good, but if I don't walk 2 to 3x I start to get angry with myself.
And then there's the binge eating. I absolutely do this. I'll go most of the week without eating very much, then the weekend hits and I can't hold out any more and I end up eating things I probably shouldn't. And it's not even binge eating the way it is for other people, I've seen the movies, I've done the research, I know what I do isn't nearly like what most binge eaters do. But I -feel- out of control and desperate and hungry and awful.
So then I eat. And then I hate.
What all of this always come down to, really, is self-loathing. I know it, deep down. There is this part of me that just desperately, angrily, stubbornly, hates who I am and how I look and it is poisonous and willful and gross.
I call that part Ed, and he's a shitty little Brain Goblin who just will. not. go. away. He's been here, fucking with my head and my body for 20 years. I hate him, but I just can't seem to let him go. Sometimes I think I've shook him loose, but his claws are spiteful hooks. He is tenacious and determined and invested in me being miserable.
Yet, Ed is still really me. A part of me, a part that hates and resents and is ugly and awful and mean to me, always. If Ed was a real person, he'd be the frenemy, the abusive partner, the street harasser, the blight, the cut, the sore that never heals.
If I could pluck him out, I would, and I would stamp his horribleness into oblivion beneath gleefully booted feet. But I can't, or won't, or can't again.
So he sticks here, maddening and capering and gnawing...always gnawing. His teeth, they are sharp and god, do they bite deep.