Friday, May 9, 2014

The Scale

This cycle of hell is too much sometimes.

All for another pound.

And I hate that I feel this way.

A gosh damn pound!

When I write it out, it sounds so stupid but it isn't. It is my reality. It is real. I own this eating disorder. It is a part of me. Whether I want it or not, it is mine. It follows me everywhere I go. I eat and I can't focus on anything else until I purge. When I accomplish not eating for long periods of time, I feel like I just conquered the world. Food is bad.

Sometimes it seems as though I can claw it off and throw it out but I can't. I can't do this. Who fights these kinds of things and comes out on top? Like really, truly on top? Is there ever a day where I won't be fighting? Is there ever a day where I won't be torturing my body from one extreme to another? Is there ever a day where my brain and my heart will connect with each other and decide on the same strategy?

Because tonight it feels hopeless. Tonight it feels like that brave thing where I tell my parents about this is never going to happen. I am the queen of the weaks tonight.

But at least I got rid of a pound, right?

............................................

It is morning now. I fell asleep writing that because loss of calories makes me lethargic. It was a hell night but this morning, oh how I love mornings where I know the scale will drop. I've learned in the past 6 months what I need to be doing to get it down and some days, I can't handle the torture while other days, it is everything I want.

This morning, as my alarm went off, the scale was my first thought. The scale. What would it say? What will it tell me about myself today? How would I feel after that bright red number popped up?

This is my life right now. As much as I like mornings where I realize I've now lost 34 pounds---hell yeah---my brain is controlled by this thing called "eating disorder". I can't escape it. When I tell myself I'm overreacting or making these problems up, I look back on the many times I've tried to stop or the many times that having food sit in my stomach has driven me absolutely crazy to the point where I can't handle it.

This was my reality at the gym yesterday. The kids ate lunch. I ate lunch. Why did I eat lunch? I was mad at myself for eating lunch. We were already headed to the gym. There were people all around me in the locker room at the gym. I tried feeling good about just burning extra calories. It didn't work. I was pacing. I felt frantic. I couldn't do this. Food is bad. GET IT OUT. I could not handle feeling this crazy but moreso, I couldn't handle the thought of food. In my brain, it is hard to tell myself that exercise and food should go hand in hand. I feel like food is bad so don't eat and ON TOP OF THAT, exercise is good so do a lot of it. It's like I'm burning negative calories because there are no new calories to burn. Hence, weightloss. Hence, feeling accomplished. Hence, a dangerous situation for my body as it so desperately tries to cling on to the things I do feed to it.

The things I tell myself are bullshit. I can see it from an outside perspective but I can't control it very well in my own life, this very day.

A little over a week ago, I allowed a friend to use my bathroom while I got my kids put in bed. Then we left to go hang out with another friend. Let me preface this with to things: This particular friend has struggled with an eating disorder and she also knows about my eating disorder.
That night when I got home, I immediately went into the bathroom and this is how I proved my obsession a little bit---the scale was nowhere to be found and it was the first thing I noticed. My need to pee urgently was now forgotten because my heart was racing. Where is my scale?! I took some deep breaths as I remembered who had been here and I knew what had happened. Damnit, she had taken my scale! I texted her and laughed it off a little bit while she sent me back texts with words of advice to repeat positive affirmations about myself to cope.

Seriously, cope? Over a scale? This all sounds so stupid to write out. But it is real.

I went to bed thinking that I wasn't looking forward to the morning because my scale gets me out of bed. I love seeing the number, high or low, because it tells me how to treat my body {Ironically, if I lose weight, I try to do exactly what I did the day before and if I gain weight, I try to do exactly what I do on the days I lose weight---so really, nothing changes because of the scale. It doesn't change my lifestyle at all. I still have disordered patterns of eating.}. I got through the next morning and it wasn't until the afternoon when I went to do my laundry, that I found my scale---the one she had apparently hidden and NOT stolen---and I immediately put it on the floor to see what the number was.

A scale.

My friends tell me this scale is a liar. They tell me I shouldn't give it so much power. They tell me to get rid of it or at least put it up in the closet and take a break from using it but I can't. The numbers on that scale feed my addiction. They tell me what I need to hear. Am I worth something today? I don't know. Let's ask the scale. I love and hate this about myself. I can't just leave it behind. I am too far gone that I can no longer do this on my own.

This is different than 'high school eating disorder'. Although I worry about death or other serious injuries, I also think about weight gain and loss of control and eating food and I cannot make the necessary changes to save myself. I just can't.

Fighting Ed is not something I can do alone. His venom consumes my every day thoughts and patterns. I think about the numbers on my scale constantly. I love them. I hate them. I want them to be smaller and smaller and smaller.  I don't enjoy the activities I used to enjoy if there is food in my body. I can't think straight if I've just decided to eat. I hate that they aren't good enough.

But when will they be good enough?

People assure me that they won't ever be good enough---not for my eating disorder brain---but I tell myself that there will be a point. I will stop when I'm ready.

But I already know one truth and I've stated it above a few times---the truth is, I can't stop this on my own.

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