Probably a good 97% of the time I will tell and talk about anything and everything to just about anyone. I will bare my soul to you. I have a mental illness and I am very open about it. I have Bipolar Disorder. I am more than frequently suicidal. I almost always have an urge to self harm. Sometimes I’m depressed, sometimes mixed and sometimes manic or psychotic. Sometimes in hospital and sometimes a total disaster. I am an open book. I’ll tell you just about anything that you want to know. I’ll be real with you. But I won’t show myself the same courtesy.
There is one thing in particular that I need to face, need to acknowledge with myself. I need to own up to the fact that I am on a fast track to an eating disorder. Well, so says my therapist.
I have had problems with food for a very long time so there is a part of me that really isn’t surprised at where I am right now. But it still kind of came out of nowhere. I’ve been a very picky eater ever since I was a kid. There were so many foods that I refused. I am still a picky eater…..well, when I eat. I won’t eat any kind of fat on food, I won’t eat anything that’s orange. I won’t eat fruits at all. I won’t even sit next to someone that’s eating a banana and if I do then the whole ordeal is extremely uncomfortable for me. I will usually try to hold my breath until it’s over. My whole relationship with food is completely warped. And I binge. I’ve always binged.
My body image, the way I see myself, it’s horrible. Logically, I know that I am not over weight but that’s not how I see myself. I see myself as fat, ugly and disgusting. I can’t look at my body in the mirror. It makes me sick. I weigh myself more times a day than I can count. I even took my scales on my recent trip to Las Vegas. A lot of times at work I get really anxious because there are no scales. I need to know my weight constantly. I have a goal weight that both my psychiatrist and therapist disagree with. When I was a kid, my now ex Stepfather told me that I was fat. I was sitting on the couch eating chicken. He walked by and told me how fat I was and to stop eating chicken on the couch. That was probably 15 or more years ago but I still think about it. A lot. The worst thing is, I’ve never been overweight but I’ve always seen myself as so. I still see myself as overweight.
For the last few months, I’ve stopped binge eating. I tried to purge but I couldn’t. I tried so hard to purge that I am ashamed of myself. I know it’s wrong but I was so desperate, I had started thinking about suicide every time I binged and couldn’t get rid of it. Now I’ve stopped binge eating. I live on a very limited food intake. I take a handful of diet pills everyday. You’re supposed to eat with them but I don’t, I figure I’ll lose more weight that way. I exercise. A lot. I run every night, between 2-3 miles. I do countless sit-ups and other exercises during the day. I walk home from work in 110 F heat even though there are always co workers offering me a ride. I need the exercise. I can’t get fatter. I have to get thinner. Every time I see someone who I deem to be thin, I feel like shit. Because I’m not that thin. Why aren’t I that thin yet? I’m a failure.
My problems run a lot deeper than I admit to anyone or even myself, this isn’t something that is a simple fix. I haven’t ever admitted the extent of it before because I am so ashamed. My Therapist said that I am on a fast track to not just an eating disorder in general, no, he was more specific than that. Anorexia. He said that if I keep doing what I am doing that at some point in the near future, I will be diagnosed with Anorexia.
There it is, I’ve said it. I never say it out loud.
This is me being real with myself. This is me admitting to my problem. This is me being honest with myself.