Dear Bee,
Today,
I woke up in my boyfriend’s arms.
I went to a recognition ceremony for a wonderful nonprofit group that I run.
I did yoga.
I studied for my finals.
I laughed with family.
I binged.
Yeah. Sometimes, it just happens like that. Seems like it comes out of nowhere, right? Those triggers suck.
It wasn’t even good binge food, and you know what I mean…leftover chocolate, cereal, some rice cakes. At least it could have been something I really like.
I’m not very happy about it. In fact, I’m trying not to hate myself. But it’s hard. I just told my boyfriend, too. Yeah, talk about shameful. Right? But secrets keep us sick. And I promised I’d be honest with him as hard as it is, so at least that’s a step in the right direction.
I want to throw up. I can’t. I want to starve for the next three days. I can’t do that either. I want to stop fighting my body. I can do that right now. I want to be done with the eating disorder. I can do my best.
I know that there are times when I just can’t tempt myself, and tonight, I let the sick, twisted voice take over. The you can just have one…one won’t hurt you…just have a bite. My recovery knows better; my eating disorder does not.
I hate hurting myself.
I hate being obsessed with my body.
I hate when food dominates my mind.
My boyfriend wants to talk about it. I don’t want to. I’m too wrapped up in the shame. But I will. Because that’s the part of recovery that matters. The coming clean and the being honest and the letting go. That’s how the disorder loses power. That’s how I win. He’ll be there to catch me, to listen, to love, because that’s how he is…it’s me that just wants to stay isolated right now. Why? Because I feel too unstable, too crazy, too unlovable. I don’t know. There’s still a tiny part of me that thinks, Oh God, I’m broken. And I’m never going to get better. And nobody is going to want to be with that.
I know this is all distorted.
I recognize that my feelings are valid but my thoughts are irrational.
But, fuck. Recovery is no joke.
