Got to Admit It’s Getting Better

It’s getting better, all the time.  At least according to the Beatles.  In my life (another Beatles song. I’m in a cheeky mood), things are actually looking up a bit, as well.  For the first time this year, I got over 1000 calories today and kept every morsel down.  I exercised 45 minutes, which is perfectly fine, as well.  Choosing foods to make up the calories count was quite the feat.  I had to stop thinking about it several times and just concentrate on making healthy choices.  All day, I’ve had to shut up the droning thought that I’m eating too much, as getting over 900 calories feels gluttonous.  I’ve also had to remind myself that I actually *can’t* feel myself growing with every calorie I consume.  It’s not like I’m remotely close to underweight.  It’s just a fear of getting larger.

The shift came in therapy last week.  There was, of course, the threat of hospitalisation.  That did nothing, however.  I would have been fine with it, considering I’ve felt completely out of control of this.  What changed is the therapist made a connection between my eating disorder and the sexual trauma in my past.  It’s something I’ve only hinted at with her.  She knows, of course, that ‘things’ happened, but I’ve never given details.

My therapy homework was to write out the sexual trauma.  As the therapist pointed out, this is not something I’d every say aloud.  I’m terrified to have it on paper and even more terrified at the thought of someone else reading it.  The connection involves, as do most things with eating disorders, control.  I feel like my outer body shows people that I am out of control.  I feel like it shows a lack of restraint or discipline, which could make people see the lack of control inside.  My thought has been that, if I could just get myself small enough, people wouldn’t question my ability to control my body.  Then, maybe they wouldn’t even guess at the messiness of the inside.  Maybe the amount of control and discipline shown on the outside could fool people in to thinking I’m acceptable in society.  That’s been the thought pattern.

Knowing all of this has really helped.  Once I know the root of a problem, I feel less chaotic.  Knowing the cause allows me to build a battle plan to attack the bloody disorder yet again.  Bulimia is something I will always struggle with, I know.  This episode has been the most severe in quite a few years, though, and I am glad to see a bit of hope in the darkness.


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