I was planning to do a post with some sort of substance today but I'm really not in the mood. I'm feeling anxious (about everything but particularly weight) and grumpy (about everything but particularly weight) and angry because I feel these things. I'm angry because it's been so long. I know eating disorders are chronic illnesses but come on. It's been 5 and 1/2 years now since I started down the eating disorder road to hell, why am I not better by now? Why do I still have these horrible thoughts about myself and all of these insane rules and food issues? What is wrong with me? I really wish I knew.
I'm mad at myself because I do things like eat greasy fried Chinese food until I feel sick one night followed by chewing 3 sticks of gum the next day to avoid eating a small piece of candy. I'm mad because I can't remember the last time I looked in the mirror and didn't want to cry, unless I'd restricted for the last 3 days. I'm mad because I hyperventilate when food plans change and that I can't pick something for dinner half the time. I'm mad because I can't go to work events because there might be food and because I never went to any work events I'm not friends with any of my co-workers. Maybe we wouldn't be friends even if I had but who knows? I'm mad that I'll be skipping the birthday cake this afternoon because I want to look halfway decent in my dress and in the professional pictures at the boyfriend's grandmother's fancy party this weekend but that I'm going to go home and have to eat burritos or pizza or something.
More than anything else though I'm just tired. I'm tired of the rules and the obsessing and the freak-outs. I feel like I got better from the eating disorder, sort of. I gained the weight I needed to, I stopped weighing myself, and (for the most part) I stopped counting calories. But then I plateaued where I was. Looking back on it I should have found a new treatment team when I moved back home from college but I was just so eager to be done with everything, show everyone that I was better. I just didn't quite finish the job, I think.
If I'm being honest with myself, part of my problem is that I was heavy before the eating disorder and then I was too skinny and then I was this. Just normal, I guess. A huge part of me is afraid that if I let go of all these disordered behaviors my weight will balloon up to what it was pre-ED. I've never been a normal weight without the crazy. Never mind that my body has stayed this weight consistently for ages no matter what I do. I think it's like my cat meowing constantly from the time he sees the treat jar to the treat being in his mouth. He learned that if he meows he gets the treat. I think I've taught myself that if I obsess I don't get fat. But it leads to feeling like this. Feeling like the insanity is leaking out my eyeballs. Seriously, I'm pretty sure crazy just comes out my pores.
And I'm angry that no one else sees this. It's something I've read from multiple people who recovered from eating disorders. Your body looks recovered long before you actually feel better. Being a normal weight doesn't automatically mean that all the brain issues that caused the eating disorder are gone. And it's frustrating. This weekend I mentioned to my mom that I'd bought regular ice cream and that I was proud of myself for that. And she just kind of brushed it off. I get that it must have been a parent's worst nightmare for mine to watch what I went through and that they were so happy when I seemed better but I want to scream, "I'm still struggling here!" That I'm still totally broken. My boyfriend has told me that he sees some of it. Like when we go out to eat and I stare at the menu longer than anyone else mentally weighing the options. Or when I stand in the cereal aisle staring at nutrion labels. He's also said that he's proud of me for making good choices for myself. Not ordering a salad sans-dressing everytime. And I'm proud of those things too. In the small moments that I'm not touching my collar-bone compulsively to make sure it hasn't disappeared under layers of fat.
I don't really know what to do. I guess the obvious answer is get myself back into some sort of treatment. It's what I would encourage for anyone else who said these things but I see it as a failure for myself. I don't want to disappoint anyone who thought I could beat this. The horribly chiche part of me is convinced whatever therapist I found would secretly be laughing because I'm not skinny. I feel like I'd have to convince them I needed to be there. Plus I tend to harp on the bad but I really do have my good days. I'm not like this all the time. And worst of all, what if I went back to treatment and I still had these issues? At least if I have therapy as some golden oasis in the distance I can believe I won't be like this forever. Because that's a terrifying thought.