Lets Be Real: It’s never easy to ask for help
I hate my body. Not just a strong dislike but on a daily basis I loathe the body that takes me from place to place. I hate my thighs. I hate my stomach. I hate the wing flaps under my arms. I hate my double chin. I hate my puffy cheeks. I hate my love handles. I hate it all. I hate that I use to be so skinny and now I am, what I feel, overweight. I hate that I have to constantly worry about a muffin top. I hate putting on my clothes and wiggling and squirming to get them on me. I hate the tightness of the bands of my pants across my tummy. I hate my tummy (did i mention that already, it’s a big one.) I hate it all.
I hate mirrors and pictures but force myself to look at the body I hate as a punishment for what I am doing. I hate that when my boyfriend calls me beautiful, I automatically know he is lying. I hate that when I walk into a room, all the eyes are looking at the jiggle of my body. I hate being left alone to scrutinize and pick at my body. I hate that I want to lay in bed in a ball so I don’t have to deal with people because I don’t feel pretty. I hate that I don’t think I can honestly pick a part of my body I even remotely like. I hate that I am ashamed of myself. I hate that I am not proud of who I am because I feel so out of control. I hate that I am embarrassed to go home this weekend because my parents might be ashamed to have daughter who is still struggling so much. I hate that I spend a large majority of my runs lately, putting myself down and thinking that a “Fatty” can’t cross the finish line.
I hate that I still cannot tell when I am hungry or full, unless it is in extremes. I hate that food tastes so good to me now but also causes me such anxiety.I hate that I do not know what is a “normal” serving size. I hate that I see indulgences as an all or nothing treat. I hate that I wake up each morning, dreading making my food choices. I hate that I don’t understand cravings. I hate not understanding what is normal, what is healthy, and what is for me. I hate that no matter how hard I try, a binge will occur and I will feel miserable about myself afterwards. I hate that I still use laxatives and diet pills to quell the anxiety after dealing with the disgust for too long. I hate that I wish I could be anorexic again to get closer to being comfortable in my body.
I hate that I said I was “recovered” when I really need so much more help.
Yes, I text my best friend on a daily basis to help me get through this but she is still unable to make me love myself or my body enough to stop being so hard, so critical and so hateful of who I am.
Yes, I tell my boyfriend and cry to him about the hate I have for my body but he cannot understand what it is like to live with complete hate and loathing of the one thing that never goes away. He doesn’t understand how this hate spreads so much and has caused me to just hate myself in general.
Yes, I tell my mom and she reminds of what normalcy is and steps to get there but it’s hard to admit I am not normal. I am living with a secret: I hate my body and Ed will always have that against me.
I don’t say this to scare off people who are trying to recover from an eating disorder and automatically think they are going to be like me, overweight (by my standards) and miserable. Yes, breaking up with Ed was the smartest thing I could have ever done but there were some mistakes along my recovery way. So here’s what I would have done differently, if I could to help me now:
– Continue therapy. I hated therapy and hated the cost of it so as soon as I began to eat more than a birds amount, I stopped going. Now I realize, my therapist never had time to prepare me for what it would be like to weigh more, go through recovery binges, and how to love food and myself in a new light. I look back and me and my family were completely in the dark about the whole recovery process and what I would go through. No one was there to guide me through it and it felt like I wildly tumbled out of my Ed and now I am still tumbling.
– Unhealthy Habits. When I started eating more, everyone and myself was so excited that it was never brought up that what I was eating, in the quantities I was eating was not something I should become use too. The fact that I even called these events “binges” should have been an alert that I was uncomfortable with this and felt out of control when doing it. It is unreasonable to think that after spending months “bingeing”, I would suddenly stop when the weight was normal. Now I can’t stop. I am stuck remembering my binges and my anorexic eats, neither of which are healthy.
– Work with a dietician. I had one throughout my Ed and recovery and also hated it but it helped so much with realizing what I needed to eat get better. But now I am at a loss for what to eat, how much, when for someone who is in a different boat: trying to lose weight.
– Be Honest. I wasn’t. I could never admit that throughout the whole time with recovery, I hated my body and everything that was happening to it. I gladly accepted the energy and happiness that came with recovery but could not bring myself to say that I felt fat. I didn’t feel like I had a right to, I mean I was in recovery. I tried to put on a happy face but imagine this: even at my skinniest I wanted to be thinner. Now I was going in the complete opposite direction. I knew why and I knew it was great and I was so happy and so grateful and proud and everything that comes with recovery. But in the back of my mind, I kept thinking fat, fat, FAT. Perhaps if just once I had admitted what I really thought of my body, without sugar-coating it, someone would have realized that recovery was not going too smoothly for me.
So what do I do now?
How do I ever get a body I am comfortable in?
Will I ever love or even like myself?
I spent too many weeks, (the last 4 to be exact) in a roller coaster of emotions. Shooting between trying to eat the best I can, doing well and then bingeing and feeling like crap. Take today for example. Well actually start with last night. I was craving something, i don’t know what. I invited the BF to go out to dinner with me and we had a normal dinner of TFLATTS. I felt like I wanted “more” soon after. I wind up getting frozen yogurt covered in “naughty” toppings I don’t normally get. It seemed to help but when I woke up this morning I felt disgusted with my body. I tried to work it off with a good workout but I felt distracted at the gym. Thinking too much about how much I was juggling (this is legitimately what went on). I ate an okay lunch and snack, sort of on the light side with the idea of dieting. I went out to run errands and found myself “needing” food. Enter a trip to the gas station to get a (slightly big) bag of Cheez-Its. I finished it and realized my day was “shot-to-shit” so I stopped at Panera and ate not only a large toffee nut cookie but a Cinnamon Roll. I sat through the entire two and half hour class engrossed with toxic talks about my body. After class, I got a large Jimmy Johns sandwich for Dinner. I wasn’t even hungry but I was desperate, upset, and frantically acting .
This is wrong.
This is not normal.
This isn’t getting my anywhere closer to where I want to be.
And now I feel horrible.
Not physically, but mentally.
This is harmful and destructive.
I cannot live like this anymore.
I don’t want to.
I need more help than I am willing to admit.
But for now, I set up an appointment with my old nutritionist.
I need help with finding a normal diet.
I need help feeling normal with food, even if it is prescribed by someone else.
I need help getting my body into something I can be proud of in a way I can be proud of.
Thoughts to Ponder:
How did you find normalcy with eating? Was it taught or did you have to work hard for it?
Also, any advice?