(I very nearly hit delete on this post that I wrote a little while ago because it's, well, it's so tough. The toughest thing I've written, maybe. I got a lot of strength and inspiration from this post I stumbled upon today by way of Elizabeth. Thanks to her and to the post writer. Thanks so much.)
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The thing about eating disorders is that they never really go away.
The other day I stepped onto an elevator and caught the smell of the cologne my first boyfriend used to wear. After a brief moment where I mercilessly judged whatever professional was wearing Tommy cologne in 2012, I was instantly taken back to 1998, unexpectedly and without warning, and it was like one of those bad movie montages in my head. A good-and-bad highlight reel began playing and it's not that I really missed him or us (or ever really do) but memory just sort of works this way: one moment you're 30 and married and a mom and happy and stepping onto an elevator, thinking about an email you need to send or groceries you need to buy and the next moment you're 16 and dancing in a high school cafeteria and you can't help but think, I wonder if he ever catches my smell on an elevator?
This is kind of how eating disorders work. You go months and months figuring shit out and losing weight by eating less and exercising more and rocking it and then one day you're walking down the hall to grab laundry or to check on your sleeping preschooler and something whispers, "eat something bad for you, keep eating until you hate yourself again," and you don't know how it happened, or how you lost control or even why (except that this is just how your brain defaults handling stress, without your consent), but the whispers, man, they sure seem to come out of nowhere sometimes.
I recently heard someone answer the question, "How is your eating disorder?" with "It's really loud right now," and I couldn't think of a better way to describe an eating disorder or (I'd guess) an addiction of any kind. Sometimes it's silent, but that doesn't mean it's gone. Other times, it can be all we hear.
The last six months of 2011, despite working out regularly and with incredible dedication, I overate a lot, and I know that this is an eating disorder all its own. I know that this is bulimia without throwing up. I could list all the reasons this happens sometimes but it's not actually because of my job or my broken friendship with someone I thought would be there for me forever or my sometimes-fragmented-always-complicated relationship with my father. It's not really about any of that, although those triggers sure do contribute, it's just about my inability to handle life's stresses in a way that doesn't involve food. When stress is tossed my way, I stiffen externally and when the house is quiet and no one is looking, I break down, so to speak. I tip-toe into the kitchen and eat. Sometimes I eat a lot.
I did this at 16 and 17 and 18 and 21 and 24 and 27 and while I haven't thrown up in so many years I can't quite remember exactly how many, I now realize that all this yo-yoing with my weight and my eating habits is still an eating disorder.
I want it not to be. I want all those reflective and introspective posts I've written before to be true, that I'm better, that I'm good, that I'm immune. This one in particular, and I felt so good when I wrote that. I was in such a good place that day. But I know that good periods come with bad, and I'm not immune to the lure of the whispers. I don't know if I'll ever be. I just need to figure out how to ignore them more consistently. Not just sometimes but most times.
I've become self-conscious to talk about exercise and eating here, two topics I kind of talk about a lot (remember when I was training for a half-marathon? Man, I did nothing but talk about exercise). It feels more "part of this crazy up and down pattern" than "being healthy." I fear you're all rolling your eyes because it sure can be annoying to live with such inconsistencies and I imagine at least partially annoying to hear about.
Just figure it out! I want to scream at myself and I assume some people want to scream at me. I'm 30! This is getting old.
I can't change that this is what it is, though. I'm exhausted that I'm still fighting this fight. I'm angry, too. I'm an adult, a wife, a mother, a professional. I should not still have food issues, but I do.
So I keep fighting.
Exhausted just isn't an excuse to stop.
I keep saying that 2012 is my year, and it is. It's my year. It's my year to do so many things, I can't wait for you to see them all. I feel like I'm going to overcome a lot and conquer a lot and rock a lot and it's going to be grand. (It IS.) But, I think a big part of that is to take the next step in this fight and that's to make an appointment, finally, to see a therapist and maybe a nutritionist.
Then I think I'll make an appointment to take a really long nap.