The Balance

Right, so this week has been a nightmare. I've done things this week that I thought I had left far, far behind me. I'm not proud of it, I don't like it, but most importantly, I don't plan on allowing it to become a habit. Because basically, I'm fucking miserable. Anxiety levels, 10; bad habits, 10; and good feelings, 0. Exercise levels, interestingly enough, are maybe at a 5. This is the reason for this post. That number five. They were 10 last week and 0 for a few days, and oh , look,  it's creeping back. Surprise surprise. Won't be long I expect, before it is right back up again. But for now, and the reason for this post, I did a normal amount of exercise. What, you see, I am trying to do, is find a balance. So I did regular person's exercise. To see what it would be like. 

I didn't eat though.  I haven't yet. I will have something before the day is out, because I did do some exercise. I don't eat on non exercise days. I don't deserve to. 

I realize this statement brings a new light to the word 'irrational'. Two weeks ago, it was not the case. And I didn't pay a huge amount of heed to whether it was an exercise day or not. I ate anyway. Now, I can't do that. It's only been a few days and already I have whittled out breakfast, lunch and dinner. I have a yoghurt and then a snack before I go to bed. That's it. What will it be next week? I can barely leave the house because every time I do I am thinking, they're all looking at the fat girl, and I'm half right, someone almost always comments on how I look, how WELL. That word... definition, you got fatter. That's what I interpret it in to. Always. I feel sick when someone says I look well, because I know that person is looking at what I have become and comparing the way I used to be. 

Yes, I know. I know. The way I used to be was close to death, and I looked like someone very sick. I was flicking through pictures on Facebook and I genuinely winced when I saw some of them. They're horrific. I have to be logical about this. Is that really what I want? To go back there? To get bruises from wearing socks... to be so weak I can't even have a shower but to be so bony I can't lie down in the bath? Come on. Surely not. But there's a strong part of me, that is particularly strong this week, that still feels like that's all I really deserve. Why? Deep rooted beliefs that I've lived by and followed for most of my life. Those may not ever go away, I realize. I have taught myself to ignore them for a year, but for some reason they're coming up strong lately. And the worst part is, I'm acting on them. For what? To lose weight? Oh my god that's awful. Am I really that shallow? Then I think some more and yeah, this is not about the weight. There's more going on here. There always is. 

An eating disorder is actually a distraction technique. Many mental illnesses are, particularly addictions. But an eating disorder (which should be called an eating addiction) is particularly effective. I say "effective", as if it's a good thing. In many ways, it was. I needed to escape. When you have a problem with something, or you're addicted to something, it literally consumes your every thought and controls most of your actions. So, in this way, it's an escape from reality. You don't have to think about what's really going on, any of the bad stuff. There's literally no space left in your head for the bad stuff. So you just don't think about it and life is just that little bit easier. For a while. Then the thoughts you replaced the bad shit with become toxic and begin to hurt your body soul. They eat away at it. And yes, I used that phrase on purpose. "Consume" and "eats away" are apt, do you not think? 

So, do you see how it works? Distraction. From everything. And it worked for me for fourteen years. But this year, I found a new way. I began to change. I began to live honest to god life, rather than just a mere existence. I began to allow myself to eat, and actually started to enjoy food, cooking, and eating. Once I got over my intense fear of fats and carbohydrates, I was a bit freer to cook whatever I wanted. I have learned a lot and I'm not actually a bad little chef when I put the effort in. As time went on I added new foods, new recipes and became adventurous with what I cooked. Then I started eating out. This was the biggest step. Combining social occasions with food. A huge hurdle to overcome. I did it gradually, starting with eating the same thing as Kegan, and then cooking for other people, having them over for dinner. Sharing food, enjoying it with others. Anorexia is very isolating, and bulimia possibly more so, because you can't binge in front of others. People would think you were crazy. Ha. Yeah. Anyway then I started going to restaurants, actually, the very same day I had my first bulimia free day in over 5 years. I played it safe, got a half portion. I hadn't been eating properly for very long, so I picked the safest thing on the menu. A big difference from now, where I pick what I think looks nicest or something I haven't already got in the fridge or can make myself. Also a big difference from what I used to do, which was pick the highest calorie, fattiest, biggest thing on the menu, provided I knew it would be easy to vomit up afterwards. 

When bingeing, I go out of my way to destroy the food by drowning it in butter and oil and whatever else I can find to make it as far away from the healthy and low fat, "safe" meals I just about allow myself to eat. They become almost inedible, which says a lot. 

By making food inadibly disgusting, perhaps I am subconsciously trying to stop myself from getting any pleasure or satisfaction from "feeding" the addiction. When you do it every day at least six to eight times a day, you start to hate everything about it. The thoughts, the preparation, the anxiety if it is threatened, the potential dread of not being able to do it, and a million other things. Like the fact that actually, when you think about it, you really do not want to do it at all, and for a second you think, will I just leave it and not do it, and it works for that one second... but then the demon wins, and not only does it win, the whole thing is even worse because you deserve punishment for even considering not doing it. And later... it's torture. 

So! I have decided that as of today I am going to stop this. I need to get my shit together and not give in to this demonic force that is rife inside me. You know what? I CAN do this. I am stronger than any addiction. Just by waking up in the morning, I am automatically stronger. Because I breathe, because I can open my eyes and look around, because I have an adoring dog looking back at me waiting for me to get up so that he can too. Because I am human. I am alive. 

I need to start rejoicing in this simple fact of life, and embracing the gift that is life itself. Being glad when I wake up in the morning instead of feeling like I should roll over and give up, instead of feeling sheer dread at the very thought of getting up at all. Instead of only getting up so I can burn off calories that I won't replenish. There has to be more to it than that. 

And there is. The last year has proved that. I need to focus on that, not food. It is no coincidence that as soon as I cut meals out of my day that they were replaced with binge sessions. When you don't feed your body things go to shit, especially when you're used to abusing food. Either by eating too much or too little. If I wasn't bulimic I'd be morbidly obese by now. And actually, obesity is an eating disorder. It's the same addiction. The root causes can be similar, and the feelings about foods are the same. It's actually the same illness, just takes a different form. 

Right, now that I have established that I am going to stop what I've been doing all week, I need to make a plan of action. A fool - proof formula for stopping this bullshit, but one where I don't have to eat more, because, well, one thing at a time, ok? Indulging in anorexia is one thing, but bulimic behaviours are more damaging, and appear to be much more of a problem. It affects my relationships and the feelings of people I love and I am not willing to do that. I've already done it in front of Kegan and my mother and I am not willing to put them through this again, even if I am willing to do it to myself. They are worth more to me than that, even if I do not feel I am worth more myself. Which I don't, but that's by the by. 

The plan? (Long pause where I try to think of something to write) Ok, so I don't exactly have a plan and I really don't know if I am going to be able to do this. I've got tonight and tomorrow to indulge in this, and then I have to go food shopping. I go once a week, and it will be crunch time. Being in a supermarket is a seriously difficult thing for someone with an eating disorder. It's a world of binge food, where you fill your trolley with things you've no intention of eating and keeping down, or you walk around examining the calories in everything, mostly rejecting the food because the fat content is too high. It's like going in to battle, where the enemy is yourself and the ammunition? Food. 

My main plan is to bring a set amount of money with me, put the rest in the bank and then give my bank card to Kegan or my mum. That way I can only spend what I intend to spend on food and drink that I am actually going to eat, and then once I am in the supermarket, even if I am tempted by things, the choice is taken away. And it's not even my fault, because it's in the hands of the person who has my bank card. Not that I'll be blaming them (my eating disorder will be, it'll be cursing the ground that person walks on) but it just feels like I don't have a choice. This is pretty much the only way I can think of that will stop me buying binge food. That, and the thought of the look on my mother's face if I come out of the supermarket with 24 tubs of butter like I used to buy every week. I can't bear the thought of her going through that again. She's been through enough with me. So has everybody. There's a hell of a lot of people out there who are really really fucking proud of me for having come so far, and I really don't want to let them down. I care too much. Like I said, losing weight is one thing but I will not allow myself to go back in to the abyss of bulimia. It's not what I want. Ok, I had a week of it, and the feelings and emotions that have been dragged up from the past and the behaviours and habits that came with it are just too much. I realise that I do not want that. Not again.

My main worry is that I will not be able to stop being bulimic without a) actually eating something or b) exercising less. Two things I really do not want to do right now. I wish I could stop all of it and just eat normally and exercise normally but well, the last week has proved that I've a long way to go, and the last year feels like it has been for nothing. It's such a shame, because I was doing so well and I really do feel like I've thrown it all away. But if I've learned anything, punishing myself for it only leads to further self torture, and more guilt, therefore even more punishment.... etc. It's a constant and cyclic battle that seems never to end. 

Here comes the reason for the title of this post. BALANCE. Will I honestly ever find it? My thinking has been decidedly black and white for a long, long time. All or nothing is like, my raison d'etre. It's what I do. Not just when it comes to food and exercise (especially exercise). I do it in most aspects of my life. Exercise is the most clear example. If one day I wake up and I'm particularly tired and I don't feel like I can do all my exercise, I don't do any of it. I can't remember the last time I did a "half day" as I call it. Except this week. I've decided either running OR swimming plus two walks. Not both, on top of weight training. One or the other. For someone like me, this is a lot harder than it sounds. I have to talk myself in to it. 

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, all or nothing. The point is, I now need to try and find what many of my therapists over the years call "the grey area". Or, "middle ground". I hate hate hate grey. It's the worst colour ever. And almost impossible for me to have in my life.  To me, it's a sickening compromise and I feel like a failure if I don't achieve either black or white. I either achieve everything or I don't even begin to try. That's sort of my modus operandi. However, this week I am trying to teach myself to walk on middle ground. Starting with exercise. And really if I think about it another way, which is what I'm trying to do, grey is really silver. And every cloud has a silver lining, right? It's a shiny, sparkly colour with a lot to offer. Time to realise its potential, perhaps? It's just so damn hard. I feel like a failure when I don't do things fully or properly or to the best of my ability. I feel like I might as well not even bother trying. I learned this from a pretty young age, with test results and stuff. Not being top of the class was frowned upon, and anything less than perfect was not good enough, and I internalised this and taught myself to live like this in every aspect of life. I know, I know, this a) sounds like I'm blaming my parents, which I'm not, and b) sounds like I'm feeling pitiful and sorry for myself, which I am not. I'm just stating a fact, explaining where it came from. I don't know why I taught myself to do that, it just happened, and when you do something your whole life it's pretty hard to change the way you think and act and feel about those actions. 

SO middle ground. Grey. Silver, whatever. How do I get there? Same way you get to doing anything... PRACTICE. Practice does NOT make perfect in this case. No, in this case I am teaching myself not to look for perfection. I am looking for okay. I am learning how to be okay, not nothing, and not everything. More than that. What I am really trying to do it be okay with being just OKAY. Usually when I achieve average results, I feel intense anxiety and feelings of failure. This needs to change, gradually. Because gradually is okay, it's not doing it all straight away, waking up one morning and being brilliant at being okay. This is not okay!! Because it's an overachievement, which is exactly what I'm trying to teach myself NOT to do. 

Am I being too cryptic with my words? Perhaps. Much of this is probably bullshit, but I just write what I'm thinking, often without editing. That much is probably obvious, readers. I will report back on how being a number five goes for the rest of the week, and see if I make silver more of a permanent feature in life. It seems like a pretty happy place. I'd say the reason I don't like yet is because it's new, and new is scary, new is different. New could be good though. Let's give it a try.