Tag Archives: bulimirexia

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.