My Eating Disorder: Routine (Pt. 2)

It seems crazy, but I did not notice how unhealthy I was becoming. I did not notice how my ribs and hip bones were trying to tear through my clothing. All I noticed was this little bit of skin that I perceived as fat and how it would not go away despite all my efforts. 

I would run a minimum of 4 miles a day. I ran an average of 23 miles a week.  I would intake no more than 500 calories a day and I would fast three times a week. I was obsessed. I measured everything I ate. EVERYTHING. 

I weighed and measured myself every day. If I lost weight, it was good news! However, I had a long way to go until perfection. If I gained weight, I reprimanded myself. 

I was obsessed with the feeling of waking up in the morning ready to faint. It meant I was definitely losing weight because my body had nothing to run on. Waking up like that was comparable to whatever you consider to be the best feeling in the world. Dizzy, I would stumble down the stairs to the kitchen (grabbing onto the walls to hold my balance) and I would take a small sip of chocolate almond milk. 

I would sit on the floor with my hands on my head trying to focus my vision. I was really light headed. I'd take another swing knowing I'd regret drinking my calories later. Right now, I couldn't stand without help. I needed sugar - I needed calories.

I felt weak. 

No, not because I actually was. I felt that way because I had to succumb to the temptation of food. 

This was a daily event.

I worked with my mother, so we would lunch together. I could not tell her that I mentally could not eat, so I would forcefully shove food in my mouth, then I would go "brush my teeth." Though, I am pretty sure she had an idea with what was going on, I pretended she was clueless.

Feeling guilty and like a failure, I braced myself for what came next.

There in the employee bathroom at an accounting department, I was hunched over the toilet. Pausing in between each "set" to ensure no one heard me. 

I would walk out feeling brand new.

I would find any excuse to walk around the office to burn whatever calories I could. 

I remember this one day, I wore something that was somewhat form fitting. I walked into work and a lot of people said "Wow, Shay! You are so skinny". 

I loved it. I craved those words. I needed them to be said more frequently. It made me feel successful.

I thought they said that to compliment me, but that was a scream of concern. 

Dang.

OH! Don't get me wrong, I did find myself binging too. I remember coming home from work one day. My dad, who is an AMAZING cook, had just finished preparing one of my favourite pastries. 

Tempted, I took one and had a bite. My body went nuts! I needed more, but I wanted to get what I had eaten out of me. This is where a battle would begin.

I'd see my hand reach for another. My mind screamed "NO! STOP IT, YOU FAT, UGLY, USELESS THING!!" I would rip my hand away. I'd turn to walk away, but my legs stayed put. 

The next thing I knew I ate half the amount baked goods, a tub of yogurt, four apples, 1/3 of  a box of granola and who knows what else. 

Horror stuck me. What did I just do!? After all that work!

Angry, upset, and disappointed I would run to the bathroom. I would cry and purge. 

The cycle would start all over. 

This was my life. Every week seemed to play out like this. 

I tortured myself daily. I was killing myself slowly. 

-SS