You’re being stupid. You’re being stupid. You’re being stupid.
“…I’d like to assess if what I do is considered a binge eating disorder.” Was the punchline in the email I sent to a local eating disorder treatment center late last night.
I mustered the courage to call a few minutes ago, but the group was all in a meeting. On the verge of tears, I sputtered that I’d just call back rather than leave a number.
I hate myself. And I eat like I hate myself.
I’m ashamed.
I’ve been doing this my whole life. Binging. Frenetically. Squirreling away food. Unable to leave a crumb behind. Focused, driven to accomplish the end.
It’s disciplined. Private. No one knows.
When I come out of it, I don’t have the courage to purge. I’ve failed at that too.
I’m failing. Everything. Everywhere.
At the end of the day, I think “it’s been a good run.”
The plane takes off, I think “it would be okay if it ended now.”
In any moment of happiness, I think “best to drop the curtain now.”
Then I angrily fight back the tears and hurt myself until it stops. Until I can regain my composure.
You’re being stupid. You’re being stupid. You’re being stupid.
reducerenewrecycle 