I have neglected to talk about my eating disorder for a while.
In some ways I feel like I don't have an eating disorder anymore because it has become so normal it barely hurts. On average I am throwing up once a day - of course at weekends this can often be up to three or four times a day.
Being off work for two weeks between jobs was dreadful. While I had time to run between 6-20 miles a day, I also had time to eat and throw up several times a day.
There was a period - April to May - when things really started to settle down. I was throwing up once or twice a week, my weight was stable, I ate breakfast, lunch and dinner... but I was also going to bed at 9pm and getting up at 5am, studying and staying safe, never going out, never drinking, never getting on to the stage...
Weight wise I'm actually exactly the same. I have not lost or put on anything. But it all unravelled after I finished my exams, applied for the new position, got turned down, quit my job, begged for Theo...
Sure, I made progress for about two months, really started to get back on the road to health... but then, I just came back again. I'm exactly the same as how I have been for so long. Bulimic,
But it isn't the eating disorder that makes me cry or makes me fearful of getting out of bed. The eating disorder is just this thing on the side, a reaction or response to my pain, but not the cause of the pain.
And there isn't anybody that knows. I suppose my therapist does, but it feels like we've all but given up on the physical eating problems now - "You know all of this." Yes, yes I do, I've been in treatment for two years. Like a crutch. A crutch that I put away in a corner and forget about until the time comes for me to walk through the hospital doors and sit in the waiting room to see her again. I don't deal with it inbetween sessions.
So, nobody. Mum doesn't know.
"Have you been sick again?" "You still have eating problems don't you!"
"No Mum." End of conversation.
None of my friends know, especially none of the friends I have made in the last year. I mean... it's just not done when you're a 24 year old adult . What the hell would they say to me?
Maybe Theo knew. Ah, but then he is a man, he would only think I were ill if I were desperately stick thin... if Theo knew he just let me get on with it.
Nobody, and I've barely even written about it here very much. And this is what I mean. I feel like I don't have an eating disorder any more. It's just a part of my life. I just do it and carry on. I just do this. i just do
I'll stop next week, I say. I'll stop after I've seen Theo for the last time, after I go out with Oliver, after this weekend, after, after,
I'll look at some thinspo this evening. And then I'll stop.
He'll love me if I'm thin. I'm a wonderful, intelligent, kind, loving woman. But he'll love me if I'm thin. They will love me. I will love me. Love or something.
My therapist is making me go through a book called 'Overcoming Perfectionism'. In it there is a chapter on procrastination - putting things off because you are scared or convinced that you are going to fail. And failure is the most scary, sickening, self-destroying thing.
"If I had my way, I'd sit in my room and write all day." I've written about it and explored it so many times, battled with it for so long. If I carry on with this route in the financial services I'll spend so long working and fighting for something I don't even want to do. Not really. And yet I'm quite set on doing that.
It's the same old arguments and internal conflicts over and over again. I have to be brave and cut away from these cycles, these habits, these ridiculous conceptions of success and identity... I have to stop wanting to be an actress on a stage. I have to stop being afraid of who I really am.
Hillary Clinton meme
9 months ago