Life seemed beyond control – nothing was going my way. The one thing, I believed, I could CONTROL was food.
Some years, with a steely will, I managed to eat tiny amounts. Other years, I tried desperately to control what I ate – starving all day, but losing the ability to restrict at night, when I’d binge until I couldn’t move. I would try to CONTROL my weight, through throwing up and taking quantities of laxatives (at which point, I couldn’t CONTROL my bowels, but that’s a different topic.)
And so, I believed, I had CONTROL over my weight and food. How wrong I was. Because what actually controlled ME was my food obsession. I thought about food ALL the time. The allusion of control proved entirely fake. My food obsession owned me, no matter what silly story (lies) I told myself.
There were a lot of lies: “I don’t actually NEED to eat at all.” “If I weigh less, I’ll be completely happy.” “Thinking about food is a fine way to spend my time.” And the biggest lie, of course, that I had any control.
Like I said, food owned me and I was willing to trade anything – friends, time with family, time at work – to sit home alone with my refrigerator. I just wished everyone would go away and leave me alone so I could binge.
Such a waste of a life. And not one I had any control over.