In my starving days, I convinced myself that I didn’t need to eat – eating was weak and a sign of low moral character. The less I ate, the better. I also told myself that nutrition didn’t matter for me. (It was important for everyone else, but somehow, not for me.) I liked sweets, so I would skip breakfast, eat a small piece of cake for lunch and one scoop of ice cream for dinner. That’s how I ate for a long time.
During those years, I was starving and weak most of the time. Half the time, I felt ready to faint and sometimes I did. And yet, I kept on starving AND convincing myself that it was great. As long as I didn’t eat, I was okay.
Eventually, I couldn’t live like that, and I started to binge. My body was, pretty literally, dying for food. At first, I’d binge once a month, and then go back to starving. Soon, I was bingeing once a week, and I’d take a few laxatives. Once bingeing got to a few times a week, I began to throw up. Soon, I was bingeing and purging as often as possible.
The whole cycle is a completely failed attempt at control. Sure, it started because I’d been heavy and as I starved off the weight, I was bathed in constant compliments. I remember at my aunt’s funeral years ago, half the women wanted to know how I’d lost so much weight.
But then, it took on a life of it’s own. Starving felt powerful – I, unlike everyone else, didn’t need to eat. Purging had it’s own power – I could eat mass quantities of food and not gain (much) weight.
And yet, when starving, ALL I thought about was food. I wasn’t controlling it – food owned me and my brain. And when binging and purging – I COULD NOT STOP, no matter how much I wanted to.
Control was delusion. I had to give up. And change my thinking completely.
Just a question – I do wonder, however, if everyone hadn’t fawned over me as I starved myself sick, would this all have started. And if i hadn’t been crucified as the fat kid…?
Such madness – all of it.