Today I went to the therapist and among the many things that I found to be useful, the thing I found most interesting was when somehow I admitted to being scared. Scared that I may never recover. I use humor and a brave face to hide my ED, or at least how seriously it affects me. As being told by the therapist today, addressing my ED so casually is not healthy. Tricking me into thinking my distorted relationship with food is not a real problem. Unfortunately today after my appointment I also got a real look at how my ED affects those in my family, how badly it either hurts them or irritates them.
Tonight we went to a nice restaurant for dinner and I managed a 3-course meal. All. Three. Courses. I ate them all. Yes, that includes dessert, and I did not throw up afterwards. I sit here 2 hours later still feeling strong waves of guilt and regret. But I really pushed and forced myself through. I am not defined by one meal, I refuse do be defined by a number of calories.
Unfortunately there are other issues at hand. It’s been almost just over 2 weeks here in Europe and I have lost a kg and almost an inch around my waist, largely due to the fact that I did not have access to my own food. So a lot of the time I ate little to nothing. Now as this actually on the surface pleases me, I have been warned [by the therapist] that its not me who is proud of the weight lost, but my eating disorder forcing those emotions on me. I don’t enjoy weight loss, my ED does. I don’t sense joy when I see my waist shrink, my ED does. That separation is something I have to learn to identify and not confuse as my own feelings.
Also as a new side note I have named it. Not because I am crazy… or unstable… or any synonym of the sort. After a certain point I find it hard to bring my self to say “eating disorder” or “bulimic”. So everyone please meet Stacy. AND I HAVE NOTHING AGAINST THE NAME STACY! Just so happens that when I thought up the idea, “Stacy’s mom” was playing and it seeming suiting enough.
Well there is a random ass assortment of all that is going on… enjoy xx.
Tonight we went to a nice restaurant for dinner and I managed a 3-course meal. All. Three. Courses. I ate them all. Yes, that includes dessert, and I did not throw up afterwards. I sit here 2 hours later still feeling strong waves of guilt and regret. But I really pushed and forced myself through. I am not defined by one meal, I refuse do be defined by a number of calories.
Unfortunately there are other issues at hand. It’s been almost just over 2 weeks here in Europe and I have lost a kg and almost an inch around my waist, largely due to the fact that I did not have access to my own food. So a lot of the time I ate little to nothing. Now as this actually on the surface pleases me, I have been warned [by the therapist] that its not me who is proud of the weight lost, but my eating disorder forcing those emotions on me. I don’t enjoy weight loss, my ED does. I don’t sense joy when I see my waist shrink, my ED does. That separation is something I have to learn to identify and not confuse as my own feelings.
Also as a new side note I have named it. Not because I am crazy… or unstable… or any synonym of the sort. After a certain point I find it hard to bring my self to say “eating disorder” or “bulimic”. So everyone please meet Stacy. AND I HAVE NOTHING AGAINST THE NAME STACY! Just so happens that when I thought up the idea, “Stacy’s mom” was playing and it seeming suiting enough.
Well there is a random ass assortment of all that is going on… enjoy xx.