From my journal this week, thoughts on the struggle that comes with my recovery:
I binged and purged last night. It was the fat thoughts. I’ve gained about ten pounds and the weight that is supposed to help me is killing me, or at least that’s what it feels like. Thinner, thinner, thinner is all I think about now. Diet hard, exercise. Forget quitting smoking, forget friends and family. Forget writing, forget recovery, forget life. Forget everything but getting thin, back to bones.
All I feel is flesh on my middle. My legs feel enormous – fat and cellulite ridden. Imperfect and unworthy.
Everything in my life seems pointless. Nothing is any good if I can’t be thin.
I am trying to argue, to rationalize, logic, and talk my way out. Try something new. Exercise but try and make yourself strong and healthy. Keep eating. Visualize Jennifer Lopez’ body – she’s not a stick and she is also the same age. It’s not working. I want sticks. I want bones.
The eating disorder thoughts make my anxiety worse which is ironic since anxiety fuels the eating disorder. This speeds up my depression which results in me feeling lazy, unproductive, and useless which leads to thoughts or worthlessness which cycles back to the fact that I don’t like myself very much, so I’m off to the mirror to tell myself “I love you” notwithstanding the fact that I bought diet meal replacement bars to consume in lieu of food which probably comes under the category of situational irony.