I have a few confessions to make, confessions of which I am not proud. Sometimes with this blog I feel like a fraud. Although I have been as vulnerable as possible, there have been things that I have hidden, or times I’ve only posted the positives, but it’s time to come clean.
I still binge.
My binging is at a MUCH smaller scale than it was a year or two ago, but it’s still there — generally on my period.
School has been incredibly stressful. Taking nineteen units is a completely manageable schedule, but there is no room for error, like running out of gas or having a fight with a friend — anything that takes the eye off the ball. I’ve been distracted lately, which means I’ve gotten behind, which means I’ve returned to old coping mechanisms and self-medicating. I’ve returned to food.
But this time it’s worse. I’ve started doing something very scary.
When I am very stressed. Very, very stressed. When I have way too much on my to do list, or I feel like I haven’t accomplished enough and it’s now 7pm and there’s no way I will finish it… I put myself to sleep. I eat myself into a food coma.
Ya know the day I posted “Mind-Full,” about paying attention to what you’re eating and drinking water — stopping when you’re full? Yeah. I’m a fraud…The next day I ate an entire box of Coco Pebbles. I also watched an entire season of Frasier (two binges for the price of one). I haven’t thought about what I am eating since I wrote that blog. It was a good week, that blog, but it’s over. Last week, when I went to Weight Watchers, I was dealing with so much emotional anxiety I actually lost my appetite. I went down a half pound. This week, I went back to my “normal” methods of “self-care.” I ate. And I shopped. And I ate. And I shopped.
I am stuck in old habits.
Today, I did it again. I woke up later than I wanted to, which meant I woke up already feeling hopeless about my schedule, so I putzed around enough to not start work until eleven. I got to work and didn’t stop working until 7pm, but convinced myself it wasn’t good enough. So, I made myself a huge dinner, and put myself into a safe little coma.
My “food is my drug” theory has found a new level of true. It has to stop. I have to get myself together, starting today — not tomorrow, today. I have to begin again, at the beginning.