Oh Hello Ed, long time no see

I've mentioned before that I really struggle with my schedule and getting my meals in. Well last week, Matt worked mornings, my schedule was perfect. We woke up to eat breakfast, I did lunch on my own and we did dinner together. But Matt's back to working the 4pm-2am shift and I am losing my grip. For the past week, I've been doing 2 meals a day, larger than a typical meal. No, not binges, just bigger because I wasn't eating 3 meals a day. I'd get up at 12pm and eat breakfast with Matt, and he'd go to work. Around 5 I'd get tired and take a nap and then around 8pm I'd have dinner on my own. I didn't eat after 8pm because it felt like dinner. What I'm realizing now is that getting tired only 5 hours after waking up, probably isn't a good sign. Instead I think I was hungry.

This is a terrifying realization. I've sat through hours of therapy and know damn well that sleeping instead of eating is a way eating disordered people avoid eating. It's what we call a symptom. It's the same as binging, purging, over exercising, and not eating. I've slept off meals plenty in the past, but I knew I was doing it. I had a conversation with Ed about it, and he decided I would sleep instead of eat, so I did.

Throughout this journey, both in treatment and in outpatient, I've been told I'm incredibly introspective. If there is one thing I'm good at, it's separating Ed's voice from mine and seeing the logical side. When I use a symptom, I'm making a conscious decision to chose Ed's opinion over the logical one. But not this time. For the past week, I've been tuning out Ed's voice but still listening to his commands. I'm so lost. But one of the most valuable lessons I've learned is to ask for help. I'm speaking with my dietician tomorrow to discuss all these issues.

Unfortunately I was realizing all of the above right after waking up from my typical nap and going over what I had eaten today. One meal--a sandwich. I got in the car, because I was expecting a call from my sister and we get terrible service in the apartment. I sat and waited for her to call. I decided to go pick up dinner while I was waiting. I picked up a burger and small fries and drove back home. She needed a few more minutes before she could call and so I ate in my car. Six months ago, when I was binging all the time, my preferred place to eat was the car. And my preferred food was fast food. So this was very familiar. Sure it was 3 burgers short of being a binge, but it definitely brought up a lot of emotional memories about food.

And then Ed opened my car door and sat down.

Ed: Fast food in the car, way to go. I thought you were losing weight, not indulging yourself.

C: Yeah, me too. But I need to eat.

Ed: And what? You're too lazy to cook?

C: Fast food fits in my meal plan Ed.

Ed: I guarantee you that if you finish this meal you won't fit into the sparkle jeans.

Oh boy. Ed hit a nerve. The sparkle jeans are my absolute favorite jeans that I used to fit into. The last time I wore them, I felt sexy, worthy, and wanted. I understand that none of that had to do with what I was wearing, but I have fond memories of those jeans. Two days ago, Matt found them in our closet and told me they were a size bigger than my current shorts. This was a huge moment for me. For some reason I thought I was at least a few sizes away from them. But, I knew that the sparkle jeans run small, and they fit skin tight even when they fit. I knew it was a bad idea to try them on, but I did anyway. They fit, but were tight, really tight, and I calmly told myself I could try again in a few weeks.

I have not stopped thinking about them since. So when Ed brought them up, that was enough for me to listen to him. I spit out the food in my mouth and threw away the rest (I was almost finished, this was maybe two bites). As soon as I did it, the urge to purge took over and I felt trapped by Ed. He was winning. I was believing his argument and the idea of fitting into those jeans sounded sooo good. Picking up my sister in the sparkle jeans would be amazing.

This was not good. So I started texting my supports. And then my sister called. Shit. How was I suppose to pretend nothing was wrong? I rushed through my list of things to tell her, told her I loved her and hung up the phone. I don't think she suspected anything, but I feel more guilty than ever. I'm working so hard on being honest, and yet, here I was pretending it was all okay. So instead of calling her back, I decided to write it all down. Here it is.

I'm in the middle of a major Ed melt down. I feel worthless and like a failure. But like all things, this feeling will pass.