Only a week and a half more to go until Step 1…I think that says it all.
I wrote a little something in my diary yesterday. I’m planning on reading it to M in tomorrow’s appointment. However, I will advise to anyone who might be eating disordered that it might be triggering. Here goes:
I hate this body. I’m fat. However, I keep eating like an animal. I can’t stop. I’m constantly hungry. There’s clothes that don’t fit me anymore and every time I look in the mirror I inspect every detail. I hate looking at myself in the mirror. I hate what I see.
How is it possible that in 1 year I have gained 14 lbs.? How is this possible, when I haven’t gained weight since high school or even before that? I weigh — lbs. That’s 3 digits. Before, it used to be 2 digits…and I can’t stand seeing 3 digits now.
Before leaving for my internship last summer I weighed — lbs. I wish I was there again, I think about it every day. I think about doing exercise, but I can’t find the energy. I’m tired of this damned body. I want to look fragile and small, see the bones on my chest. I don’t want to look like a woman. I don’t want to be fat.
I look in the mirror and all I see are thighs that are too large, even wider than my hips. And the gap between my thighs used to be bigger…I see a huge butt and a belly that I don’t want. I’m tired of this, I want to be small.
I know these thoughts might seem irrational. Since I was 12 years old I have had a fear of gaining weight. But I don’t understand why. I’ve thought it might be a fear of losing what makes me unique, what gives me an identity. Or is it a fear of growing up and being independent?
I want to go back to being — lbs. If getting better means gaining weight, then I don’t want to get better; at least not in that aspect. These thoughts consume me. Of all the monsters I have inside of me, that is the only one I don’t want to leave behind. I don’t want to detach myself from it.
And now I’m triggered to cut…triggered to mutilate this body that I hate so much. Fat, ugly, and useless.
I was desperate to put all those thoughts on paper. I feel better now, but the thoughts are still in the back of my mind. I really want to know what M thinks. I don’t know if she understands just how much this affects me. We’ve discussed it before, but I’ve never really read her a diary entry so desperate like that one.
I know I sound like an extremely superficial person. It’s difficult to not feel like it when I think these kinds of thoughts. But deep down I know there’s something hurting. And if there’s something that M has taught me, it’s that there’s always a deep root to our problems.
However, the problem is, I don’t know how to reconcile my fear of gaining weight with my wanting to get better.
And I don’t know if I want to.