Fat, Stressed, and Ashamed

Let me start off by apologizing. I haven’t written in quite some time and have just left you guys hanging. I’m really sorry about that.

As I write this post, my eyes are begging me to stop holding in the tears, but I just can’t cry. Not now at least . . . I need to be strong for the few minutes I spend composing this post.

It all started 2 days ago at 9am when I walked into the sterile, white nutrition clinic. After nearly 3 years of visiting this clinic where I see my dietician, I knew the drill by heart.  Once my tall, lanky dietician walked into the outdated waiting room, I was to get up out of my uncomfortable chair and make my way own a wide, clean hallway. There near the middle of the hall would be my worst enemy – the scale. I would have no choice but to step on its silvery platform and watch the small digital screen bleep up some numbers that determine whether I am  a success or a complete failure.

That cold, miserable day I was weighed was a day of relentless rejoicing for my parents and dietician. For me though, it was quite the opposite. The scale had revealed that I had put on a pound and if you have an eating disorder, you know exactly how horrific it feels. I wanted to curl up in a corner and just let salty tears rush down my fat cheeks. I wanted to throw up every morsel of food that ever entered my damn mouth. I wanted to hide in my room and never be seen again.

All because of a damn pound. . .

Now I wish I could say that I was able to get over this hump and continue making steps towards my recovery, but that would be a lie. Though I have not really restricted, I have purged. Yesterday that urge was incredibly overpowering. I rushed to the bathroom, opened my mouth, and let revolting regurgitated tuna spill into the toilet. As I flushed the porcelain latrine, I felt an overwhelming wave of guilt hit me as hard as Typhoon Hyan hit the Philippines.

“How could I have let myself do this?” I thought to myself. “Why did I just throw away all the progress I made?”

I am still wondering the answer to those two questions and I beginning to think that maybe I’ll never fully recover. Maybe I’ll always be purging. Maybe I will always be obsessed with calories. Maybe I will also be tormented by my cruel abuser – Ed.

4 thoughts on “Fat, Stressed, and Ashamed

  1. You have not thrown all the progress you have made away at all. When in recovery it is not plain sailing. You will have ups and downs, but you can eventually get to a point where there is more ups than downs. Array on the road to recovery, no matter how hard it is, because you can have a life at the end of it. There is no real life stuck in the rut of an ED. take care and stay safe x

    1. I know. I believe that this feeling we are experiencing can only be understood by those of us with EDs. So many people think we bizarre for panicking if we put on weight, but for us ED folks, it is something that only makes sense to us.

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