Haven’t been feeling my best these past two days. I’m not down in the dumps, but I feel pretty empty and far from myself. It’s as though my mind were in a trance.
Yesterday I went shopping with mom. I thought I’d have a good time, but it left me feeling very empty. Something was just…off. And it didn’t help that I had bad anxiety because whenever I go shopping these days I get anxious thinking about people looking at me and such.
I was wearing this dress I hadn’t worn since last year because of my weight gain. I put it on yesterday and looked relatively decent. My choice of clothing this whole year has been very repetitive because I feel like a rolled-up sausage in everything I wear. But the truth is, I know I’ve lost weight since I got out of hospital.
I hadn’t addressed this on the blog lately because I wanted to keep it to myself. And, really, as I write this I have this horrible anxiety of exposing myself. But this blog is just like talking to M: I like to present myself as vulnerable and honest as possible. So to be quite frank, I recognize my eating habits haven’t been the best lately.
It all started with being prescribed Wellbutrin (bupropion). This medication can make you lose weight, and I was no exception. Since I’ve been using it I’ve noticed that without trying I become satisfied with less food, which is great really because since last year I was kind of drowning my emotions in food.
But seeing that I’ve been losing weight has got me…hooked, I guess. And slowly I’ve become sort of addicted to seeing that number on the bathroom scale go down. I weigh myself practically every day, sometimes more than once. And I prefer doing it completely naked, even taking off the clips on my hair for fear they’ll add weight. I’m terrified of having the number go up.
The reality is that I had to lose weight after getting out of hospital. My BMI fell on the borderline overweight range back then. So now I’m in the “normal” range. But I don’t like what “normal” looks or feels like. I never have.
So, rather slowly, I’ve been more aware of what I’m eating, controlling myself a little here and there. But then two weeks ago, when I had the kidney stone, I pretty much ate nothing for three days because of the pain and how distended drinking so much water made me feel. And that sort of triggered some behaviors in me.
To be quite frank, I’ve been restricting meals and eating less when I eat. Physically, I feel nauseous whenever I’m full, and on top of that I feel this horrible guilt and desperation. Every meal is like this giant hurdle I have to overcome and I’m afraid of people noticing that I’m eating less. I’m terrified of having to make up an excuse whenever I don’t eat, and now that MM is coming back to the country this Saturday I’m terrified that she’ll notice the changes in me. Most of my day is spent thinking about food, to be honest.
G noticed my weight loss about two appointments ago and asked me about it. I said I hadn’t noticed a change in how my clothes fit. But I was lying, I know full well what the scale says. Then today I freaked out when my brother and my sister-in-law noticed I got full very quickly at dinner. And I freaked out some more when my sister-in-law found it strange I said no to ice cream when she offered me some.
I don’t know if I’m in denial, thinking that I don’t quite fall under the eating disordered category yet. But, really, even if I did, I don’t want to change my eating habits. I don’t care, because I’m finally losing weight and by controlling what I eat I can avoid that disgusting feeling of guilt and nausea I get whenever I’m full.
Maybe I’m using (a lack of) food as an excuse to control at least one aspect of my life. Maybe I’m trying to distract myself from my feelings by focusing on my weight… I don’t know. And I really don’t care.
I’m very aware of where these behaviors can land me in, and what can happen if it all spirals out of control. So I’m a bit afraid of that, but at the same time I don’t want to be found out or change my ways because I really, really, really, don’t want to gain weight again. If I feel bad about my body now, back when I was borderline overweight I felt absolutely dreadful. And I don’t want to go back to that.
So, that’s that. That’s my big secret. I’m afraid of having to address this at some point with M or G. I really don’t want to, but a part of me thinks it’s the right thing to do.
But what if I don’t want to do “the right thing” this time around?