A quarter to twelve. Drinking a cup of tea. Kind of hungry. Is it normal to eat at this time of night if you feel hungry? Not entirely sure.
Will eat yoghurt.
Sundays in this household are a bit funny food-wise and it stresses me out (though less so in more recent days). Breakfast is normal, I skip morning tea ’cause I am at church, have lunch, have afternoon tea, eat something light before church and then eat something else at 9:30 after church. Except tonight we had to drive someone home (another story altogether), so food consumings occurred later than the norm. ie now.
(Also, I’m not going to lie here. Just ate a piece of cooking chocolate)
So really today, I haven’t had any meals, bar breakfast and lunch. Just sort of random snacking. And random snacking is what the bulimic life was all about and so I’m sure you can imagine my stress at the moment. Perhaps not.
Let me explain.
When I was bulimic, I didn’t eat for long periods of time – sometimes not from breakfast until dinner time. And other days I would eat half a cup of (measured) strawberry yoghurt and then eat some carrots for lunch and then eat dinner and throw it up. Then I’d binge. A binge might involve opening the fridge door and picking at some fruit and nut cheese, eating 15 dates (counting them because I was still freaking myself out), eating multiple chocolate biscuits and leftover dinner from the night before or couscous, or jars of taco sauce, or eating the sultanas out of the cereal, and then bingeing on the cereal (we’re talking lots of cereal here) and crackers … and boxes of muesli bars… and peanut butter straight from the jar. All of this before drinking almost a litre of water in order to make myself throw up the food that I had just eaten.
Binge behaviour scares me. It’s one of the reasons I think I couldn’t go back to restricting my intake actually, because I realise that eventually I’d end up malnourished and falling victim to bulimia again. It’s not a pretty position to be in. Standing in the shower and throwing up kilos of food onto your feet is as unpleasant as it sounds. Throwing up blood is as terrifying as you might think it would be. I used to be there in the shower thinking “I’m going to die this time. God, please don’t let me die this way”. I could have and am so thankful that I didn’t. Not the best way to go, obviously.
I’m not going to lie. I still have food fears. I still have this awful feeling that I’m going to blimp out overnight and that any overeating at all will make me put on weight and it will be really obvious for all to see. So how do I get past that? In the long-term, I don’t want to stress about the extra piece of choccie that I ate, or that I had a tablespoon more of yoghurt than normal or that A made custard and I sort of indulged and ‘I really shouldn’t have done that, it was so bad’. I know that a full recovery means no more fretting about food. I don’t want to live my life this way anymore, and I don’t think I will. I don’t know if it’s even possible – but I’m going to do it anyway.
Featuring a photo of my friend Carole for funsies.
And also to point out my pre-eating disordered days when I was bigger, but kinda chubby faced and cute. You may observe I still have a baby tooth (it’s being removed on Friday! Ahh).
And here’s the eating disorder days:
Yeah, I look disgusting. Would you believe I thought I was fat here? I may not leave this photo up, I understand it could be triggering for some people – but I just want to highlight how screwed up the anorexic / bulimic brain in is convincing the individual that they are fat. It is so far from true. And it makes me so sad that some people never realise this and continue to live their lives as they are, or (very sadly), their eating disorder beats them.
Did you know that anorexia has the highest mortality rate of any psychological disorder? That 1 in 10 girls in Australia currently suffer at the hands of an eating disorder? Someone you know probably has experienced this in one form or another. So what can we do? How can we stop this seemingly apparent epidemic from spreading any further than what it has? We look out for each other. We confront each other. We tell each other we’re lovely as we are. We eat chocolate and cook delicious meals and enjoy them and don’t give a stuff about whether or not we can wrap our hands around our waist.
We learn how to not care, somehow.
Good night, interwebs.