Monday, 27 August 2012

"Rigid, the skeleton of habit alone upholds the human frame"

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.


http://opheliaflowers.blogspot.co.uk/2011/02/write-now.html

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.

5 comments:

  1. Darling, i don't know how it is like to have an eating disorder and i'm not even skinny (haha) but i do feel the same thing. I often wonder about being beautiful or prettier or thin, would they love me more? And those questions were never answered. But my darling Ophelia, i love you, because your thoughts are beautiful and you are beautiful - inside & out, i know. And your family loves you and Theo loves you too.

    Have a wonderful day, love.

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  2. As someone who struggled with eating disorders briefly in college, I know that "if I were prettier, thinner, he'll like/love/want me more" all too well. I'm sure most girls can relate. Striving for beauty is part of our collective history, mixing with our own internal longing. But really, the times when you looked in the mirror and were honest enough to admit that you never looked better, were those also your happiest? Maybe sometimes the two collide, but more often than not, I'm left empty, thinking, there must be more - or even worse, wondering despicably if I look this way, why haven't I attained what I wanted already. Appearances will always matter a lot to us, but that in itself is not enough. Maybe this is where the saying 'beauty is skin deep' becomes relevant. To accept and love ourselves beyond appearances before we accept or receive love from another...

    xx Alice

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  3. I think sometimes you reach a point you don't want to wrote about it because it's more of the same and like you said it's part of your daily routine, you don't even think about it.

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    1. One more thing, I think that's why I don't really read blogs that are soley a list of what someone ate/didn't eat and full of thinspo. We all are aware of the reality but I think the blogs I enjoy the most go deeper & are more personal and offer a better unstanding of how things came to be the way they are.

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  4. I adore you so much. I was once A Will is the Way, but changed over to this newer one.

    Personally, I've somehow reached the point where I want people to know that I am, was, bulimic. That I'm fucked up. I used to be so terrified of what they'd think, say, but it doesn't matter so much now. I think I'm testing them, seeing who my true friends are. Many of my friends know that I at least was bulimic, even if I keep to myself that I still partake of the behaviors. They also are made aware by my babbling brook of a mouth that I self-harm, that I'm promiscuous, an avid drug user (which they knew anyway because all my friends do or have done drugs...)

    I'm babbling, but I just wanted to say that it isn't so bad to share the truth. It's scary, yes, and there are times when I wish I hadn't uttered a word, that I'd stayed secretive and reserved. But I've found that most people are willing and able to accept me for me, and they love me none the less.

    All my love...

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