Yesterday I ate a lot of carbs on purpose.
A few weeks ago, I traded in binge eating for overeating at every meal. It’s the only thing that seems to keep me from bingeing at this point. But then the overeating started making me feel guilty and began morphing into more…well, chaotic eating.
For example, eating a secret snack before breakfast, eating breakfast with someone, then having private dessert a hour later, waiting two hours, then having lunch the same way.
I’m still taking Wellbutrin but this time it’s had barely any effect on my appetite, which is disappointing and confusing. When I tried to quit this medicine in September and again in October, all I did was binge til I exploded.
It’s now been a solid three years of binge eating – set off with an extreme weight loss in summer of 2013 (down to 118 from 138), and punctuated by a regain to 142 in fall of 2014 (when I vowed not to diet, but to accept myself) and a second extreme diet in early summer 2015 down to 118 again, then a regain back up to 142 in November 2015, then another early summer diet down to 125. The second two diets were both set off by Wellbutrin – a conscious decision I made at the time because I felt too fat and knew it would cut my appetite.
Now I’m 140 and on it again, though. and instead of binging and purging with excessive exercise, like I always do, or regulating it with sugar cleanses, sobriety, or big salads, I’ve been listening to body positive podcasts.
Because I can’t keep doing this.
Obviously my body wants to be at least 140, just like it was in my early twenties before a series of major life stressors and family illnesses caused me to tailspin into panic and paranoia and lose my appetite. And just like I was when I finally moved in with someone I truly loved and felt totally accepted. Then stupidly told myself he would never love me at 142, so we went on a diet together.
I read once that if you gain more than 10 pounds over your high school weight, your risk of breast cancer goes up 50%. I was terrified. I’m still not sure if that’s even true. Every time I gained weight back, I felt my boobs there and my stomach would drop. It’s only a matter of time before these turn on me, too.
Why couldn’t I just let myself be…?
And that’s where I am again today.
I was a little heavier when I started dating T last Christmas (135 pounds), but I was embarrassed about it completely. When I started my medication and lost some weight this summer (125 lbs), we finally started having more sex. Now I’m even heavier than when we started dating (140 pounds+) and I don’t fit any of my pants. I think I lost some muscle too because even though the number isn’t that high, my legs don’t squeeze into anything. All my underwear is tight. my stomach looks bloated from my erratic eating.
I’m plagued by a feeling of wanting to give up completely. I’ve been running slowly, at least every other day mostly to deal to anxiety. And it does help. In a couple weeks we go to Mexico and I am so fucking dreading it. I want to start writing more about this effort to eat intuitively because I have no idea what’s going on and I want to be able to help someone else in the future. I can’t find anything online about the actual struggle of going from binging to eating intuitively.
Some people are saying you *HAVE* to let yourself have anything because otherwise you’re restricting – either with calories or emotional shame – but when I let myself have anything, I only choose sugar and carbs, and I have a lot of trouble stopping. And even when I’m able to stop, I spend the entire period between meals anxiously awaiting thenext time I get to eat. I’m so ashamed of my embarrassing thoughts. I dread that T can hear me getting fatter and that when I finally do eat next to him, he’s horrified to be dating me. I don’t even hate my body *that* much, though I am not proud of what the overeating has done to it… it’s more that I’m so ashamed to be always thinking about food. If anyone could hear my thoughts, I would die. I just had tea, with a cup of oatmeal with banana and a few apple slices. I thought that would be a nice small size, I can eat lunch in a few hours at 1:30, and feel okay about everything. But I just want to pretend I didn’t eat breakfast at all and go eat cookie dough.
I know I won’t do that. Usually in the mornings, I can talk myself out of it because I know living with that feeling all day will kill me. I’m freaking out and I really need help. When I finally worked up the courage to let T in and tell him how much I’d been binging, he said “everyone needs to eat and that I should talk to him when I feel this way.” But every time I try to talk to him he gets very agitated and says “we just talked about this last week – how you think you’re fat and don’t know what to do. well, DO SOMETHING about it! do something that makes you feel fulfilled! You’re skinny there’s no need to worry about it!” He thinks it’s no big deal. So he cooks us dinner and thinks he’s helping provide security, which he his. But, I just keep hiding from him. He doesn’t understand.