The anxiety that these thoughts brings just flat out sucks. There's really no other way to put it. Some of the anxiety is just (positive) anticipation for my weekly nutrition and therapy sessions; however, the bulk of the anxiety is way worse than just some anticipation. It's the obsessing about my body, how I look, what I'm wearing, what other people are thinking, what other people are thinking if they, heaven forbid!, see me eating, what I'm actually eating, if I should be eating in the first place, etc. Crazy, right? Why can't I just eat and be okay with it, and me? It sounds so easy, and simple, and for many, it is. For me and anybody else with an eating disorder, it couldn't be farther from that. The worst part about all of that is that almost every weekend, I get a short reprieve from this obsessive hell. I get a short-lived taste of what it feels like to be free. I'm still undecided about whether this slight reprieve is a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, it obviously feels amazing to enjoy my day, mostly worry-free, and actually like myself for once. On the other hand, it's like a cruel tease which just makes the ed thoughts that much more depressing when they storm back into my head at full force on Mondays.
So, back to Monday morning. I've currently be awake for a full four hours, and I've yet to eat anything. I normally always eat breakfast; I can't function without doing so and I know I need to. When I woke up, I had high blood sugar (due to having low blood sugar in the middle of the night--it can be a crazy rollercoaster at time, especially when I'm half asleep), so I took my insulin and told myself I'd eat once I got into work to let my blood sugar settle to a better level. I got into work one hundred and twenty minutes ago. All I've consumed is a cup and a half of coffee and a packet of Splenda. I know I need to eat, I just can't bring myself to. I have my yogurt and pretzels sitting right in front of me. I've actually been staring at them for the past sixty minutes. I just have no motivation to put any sort of food with calories in my mouth right now. Over the past week or so, I've had pretty terrible body image and a whole slew of negative thoughts about myself and how I look. It's so incredibly confusing, and illogical, yet I still think, and most of the times, believe it all. I wake up, look at myself in the mirror as I'm brushing my teeth, and scrutinize every inch of myself, looking for all of the imperfections and flaws I am convinced exist. Starting your morning by telling yourself how fat you are, how out of control you are, how little willpower you have, and how gross you look really is not conducive to wanting to eat anything, let alone the number of calories you should be consuming in the day. This morning was no exception. Actually, last morning was no exception either, yet I was on my way out the door to play in two softball games (the last ones of the season, unfortunately) so I was too mentally preoccupied with thoughts of the games to worry about looking fat. Today, ed thoughts are all I seem to be preoccupied with. This morning wasn't too terrible, as I was too tired to focus on too much, but I didn't escape completely unscathed--I still managed to say to myself, "God, look at your stomach. It's huge. None of your clothes will look good. You need to hide that." Really not a great way to start a cold and dark Monday morning.
***
It took me a long time to admit that I have control issues, but do I ever. I remember sitting in sessions (note the 's'--we're talking multiple sessions here) with my dietitian, debating and fighting her when she would say I clearly had control issues. I got more eyebrow raises combined with "you really think you don't have control issues?" looks than I care to count. Now it's almost laughable, but I did NOT want to admit that okay, I have control issues. I need to be in control. I am a perfectionist. But it's true. I am a perfectionist, whether it's food related, school related, whatever. I need to be in control. It makes me feel...good. Calm. Like I can breathe again. Empowering. Strong. When so many things in my life are raging out of control, the one thing I can control is food. Yet I've come to realize that nitpicking over calories, restricting for "just another ten minutes" multiple times, until it adds up to hours, really is not me being in control. I'm not controlling the food, the food is controlling me. ***
I sit here, still, staring at what was my breakfast, which will now turn into my snack, hopefully. Still uneaten, still unopened. With each passing minute, I feel a greater sense of control. Of power. Of being able to do it, having that willpower to not eat. Eating would feel like failing, especially since I've now gone four hours without anything. It's such a tough mindset to break because I won't want to "give in" and eat all day. Yet I have to. I know I have to. My body has to have the fuel it needs to get me through the day. I know not eating is perpetuating the ed cycle, both mentally and physically. I need to eat. I need to stop it. But the thoughts are very strong. I have an appointment with my doctor in fifteen minutes, and I know that if I hold off until after the appointment, I'll have gone six hours or so with absolutely nothing. I can't do that to myself. While I know I'll be under (not enough calories) for the day if I skip breakfast and a snack and then eat normally for the rest of the day, I know I can't. I'm tired of living in this hell. The only way to break the cycle is to force myself to eat this yogurt and pretzels and then deal with the uncomfortable, tight chested feeling during and after eating. I know it's the right thing to do; I just don't want to do it.
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