I seem to be trapped or stuck in this lull. I’m not depressed, things have improved at work, but I’m not eating. Don’t get me wrong, I still have random days, like today, where I am just hungry all day, consciously hungry. Most days I berate myself for even considering food. I haven’t done that as much lately.
****I started this post at the beginning of May. Now that May is coming to an end, I have to say this is still true. I have had a couple really good fasts, broke my plateau and made it down to 141 pounds. But you know me, I fucked it up and binged. I keep doing this yoyo, not just with my weight, but with my moods. One day I’ll do fine fasting and sticking to my plan, but the next, I’ll binge like a pregnant woman. Binging always makes me depressed. I’ve had a couple deep depressions this month, excellent for fasting. Both left me suicidal and in tears, but I lose more weight during those times. That weight-loss makes me crave the depressive state. How messed up is that?!
I continue to struggle to find any excitement or enjoyment in food. Even while I binge, the food just doesn’t taste good, or has no taste whatsoever. Foods I once loved, such as cheese, has absolutely no taste anymore. Things either lack flavour, or the flavour is no longer appetizing (peanut butter falls here). Beyond the taste, I don’t even get excited about food. I show zero emotion toward food. I’m constantly hungry, but I’ll run through a list of every food I can think of, and not a single item makes me say “OMG I MUST HAVE THAT!!!!” Even when I binge, the food isn’t appealing, it’s simply convenient. It never satisfies, which only adds to the binge. I’m hungry with no appetite. Does this happen to anyone else? If so, how did you make it stop?
Last night, I was high, I mentioned to my mum that a Hot Fudge Sundae, soft serve only, sounded good. It did sound good, I wasn’t overjoyed by it, but when I’m stoned, some foods do sound mildly appetizing. My dad said he would buy if I went and got everyone a sundae. I agreed. Of course at this point I had already purged the vegetables and bite of egg salad. I get to the ice cream shop, it’s about 10:00 at night, and I am already regretting my decision. WTF was I thinking? I can’t have ice cream. So I decide to ask for the absolute smallest amount I can get. The man begins making the sundaes for my parents, using dipped ice cream. I only had a taste for soft serve, not my usual style, but whatever brain, whatever. I ask the guy about the tiniest amount and he tells me the soft-serve-machine is broken. He says they do not have anything smaller than a single dip of the regular ice cream. I opted for no ice cream at all. When I got home, I had to explain my lack of ice cream. I tell them about the machine being broken, my mother says “Well why did you go then?” WUT? I’m like “well I wanted ice cream but THE MACHINE WAS DOWN” clearly I didn’t know that BEFORE I went. She then proceeds to offer me a bite of her sundae. Again, I WANTED SOFT SERVE DAMMIT! Please just stop, I already hate myself for entertaining the idea of ice cream, I dodged a bullet, just let me go to bed and cry alone.
To top this story off, my conniving brain devised a way to get myself out of similar future events. I can just order something slightly different for my parents, claim they were unable to make the item the other way, and say I only wanted that. Now I can get out of eating when I regret my decision. Nachos sound good? They were out of the cheese sauce, and only had the shredded whole cheese. You guys enjoy, but I wanted the cheese sauce. Devious, but effective, since I will regret my decision the moment I get in my car. Lying may be wrong, but it sure beats feeling suicidal.
My mum has taken to telling people I don’t eat and that’s why I’m so skinny. First off, I’m a cow, not at all skinny. But neither her nor my dad question me ordering coffee when we go out to lunch, but then she tells the waitress that while I may be a pastry chef, I never eat. I feel like trash, because I binge in private.
My anxiety has gotten worse. I worry that I may have eaten something and just don’t remember. I worry that I will eat something. I worry about my size. I worry that I’ll start eating one day and never stop again. I worry about my health. I worry that I may need to go in-patient. I worry that my heart may just give up one day. I worry that no one cares about what I’m doing to myself. I worry that someone will find out and care. I worry that this is all a dream, and I’ll wake up fatter than ever. I worry about eating in front of ppl, even ppl I know. I worry someone will “catch me eating.” I worry that no one will ever love me, I’ll be alone until I finally die. I worry about annoying my friends. I worry that my friends find me self-centered. I worry that they don’t really like me. I worry about saying the wrong thing to my friends. I worry about trusting my friends. I worry about how my friends see me. I worry that I’m a horrible person. I worry that people find me stupid or tedious. I worry that I’m a disappointment. I worry about my poor memory. I worry that I’ll oversleep and not show up to work. I worry I’ll get fired. I worry about not getting the meals done in time to serve at work. I worry about making the wrong thing or making it poorly. I worry when I go out high, that someone will notice and say something. I worry when I have to talk to people I don’t know. I worry I’ll run out of money. I worry I’ll become addicted to shopping. I worry about everything; I worry about my worrying.
And because I worry so much, my trust issues have gotten in the way of EVERYTHING. I can’t open up to anyone without worrying what they will think. Will they betray me? What if I misread the situation and it isn’t like I thought it was? What if he doesn’t really like me? Maybe he flirts with everyone like that. It’s crippling me and I just want to cry.