The ruler

Nearly every morning for as long as I can remember, I have stepped on a scale to measure how much I weigh.

and the number that is displayed ends up dictating my self-worth.

Strange I know, that a number should have that sort of power over me.

I have friends whose net worth equals their self-worth and I often tell them, that they are so much more beyond their possessions, their material things.

I preach about how the intangibles in life:  health, family and good friends have the most value.

But I feel like a charlatan, because there I am allowing a scale to control me.

****

Most days, in one way or another I am obsessing about food.  How to avoid it or how to get rid of it.  Food is on my mind in a really screwed up way.

Devising ways I won’t binge.  Getting rid of food that I consumed if I do.  Wishing I could eat and then feeling guilty for wanting to.  Feeling really good when I am not eating.  Feeling in control, clean, like the world is right.  Figuring out calorie exchanges.  Feeling desperate and despairing when I am in the food.  Feeling bad, dirty, out of control, ashamed, like nothing will ever be right again.

It’s insanity.

I wonder what it’s like to be normal.

****

Then when I am out in the world I am constantly looking at other women.   Comparing myself to every woman I see and how I measure up.

But I never do, as the case usually is.

How my outsides are not good enough.

The obsession is so gripping and powerful.

I hate it.

I don’t know life any other way.   My crazy thoughts are all I’ve ever known.

****

Why must this blasted scale be the ruler, a way to measure if I am good or bad? If my day will be a good one or a bad once based on the number that I see.   I have been this way since I was around 13 years old.

I am fortunate that I have only been hospitalized once for this.  The eating disorder itself has morphed over the years.   From anorexia in adolescence to bulimerexia by my twenties.  Somewhere in between I had picked up a new thing this CHSP, Chewing and spitting my food out.

I have never known life with a healthy reltionship to food.

I have extreme body dysmorphia.   The mirror still is my enemy.  No matter what other people see, when I look in the mirror I see every flaw, imperfection, amplified ten thousand times.  Be it cellulite or acne, a hair out of place.   I remember changing outfits  several times because everything just looked bad.  I looked bad.  This makes me want to just isolate.  Which I often do.

Its not to do with being a vain person.  It’s  to do with feeling so inadequate and disgusting that I can’t stand how I look. When I look into the mirror it’s like a fun house mirror which distorts how I look to me.  I’m not sure if it’s neurological or what,  but it makes me see things that others don’t.

Every eating plan I get on is a struggle because my perfectionist ways interfere and if I deviate from the plan, it sends me into a spiral.  I can teeter into punitive self-punishing behaviors.

The only other thing about having an eating disorder is the shame and isolation that keeps me silent about it.   It’s painful.

Some days are better than others.   I want to believe that one day I will find acceptance with my outsides.  I have a hunch it has a lot to do with my trauma past.    I probably need to tell Lee about this too.  Just one more thing to work on….

Some days it just feels hopeless.

 

About Lexicon Lover

Read all about my journey (and musings) of recovery from both complex childhood trauma and incest, it’s manifestation in my adult life through maladaptive behaviors like BDSM, self-injury, eating disorder, substance abuse and toxic relationships; one with whom was a Narcissistic Sociopath. View all posts by Lexicon Lover

6 responses to “The ruler

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