(no subject)
"I don't think you're supposed to be able to count someone's ribs from their back, Emily. Or being able to see their whole rib cage when they turn around....You look scary." --My sister
When we were at my grandparents house for Thanksgiving, I was changing my shirt. My sister was in the room because I didn't care. When I started to change, she gasped from across the room and had an awkward look on her face. When I asked her what was wrong, the above quote is what she replied with.
I didn't see it. Sure, you could see my ribs but I was in no way scary looking. At least not to me.
The other night when I was going to take a shower, I turned on the water to let the bathroom heat up. As I got undressed, I looked in the mirror. This time, I gasped. My rib cage completely exposed. My chest nonexistent. I have ridges where my chest should be. You can see the bone structure and chest plate. I turned around and saw my back.
I looked like I was dying.
Or rather, I look like I'm dying.
That was the first time I saw it.
But I still feel fat.
All this week, I've been noticing a direct correlation with what was going on in my life and how I felt to how I ate or didn't eat. Its interesting.
Yesterday was the day from hell. I had my last final, which in itself wasn't too terrible but I had just bombed one the day before. I walked to campus and it was pouring rain. I had my umbrella but it was also windy and so I was soaking wet by the time I got into the book store to sell my books back.
I opened the door to the bookstore and walked in shaking off my excess water and sliding my hair back.
And then I saw him.
Sulton.
He looked at me and I looked at him and we just sort of stared for a minute. I didn't move. When I finally did manage to make some sort of movement, he made a gesture to show me that he was with the girl standing shortly in front of him. And I just looked at him.
And then walked away like I hadn't seen him.
I walked to the back of the store and pretended to look at magazines or something. Anything. Anything that wasn't him.
And then I started planning. Planning how I could cut out lunch and cursing myself for eating as much as I already had. Trying to figure out how I could cut out the rest of the day to make up for the 187 calories I had already eaten. Trying to figure out how I could stay below 600.
When I realized I couldn't.
My logic was that I wasn't good enough. I was never good enough for him. And seeing him brought back vivid painful memories of how I felt cheapened and dirtied by him. How I was never good enough for him to date officially but I was good enough for him to share a bed. How I was never good enough for him. How I knew that when I was "with" him that if I would have been thinner, things would have been different.
Seeing him brought back horrible thoughts. Painful memories. Pain.
When I got home, I figured I had to do SOMETHING. So I excersized. For the normal person, it wasn't overexcersizing but for me, it most defenitely was. I was going to keep going when my sister got home and asked me "What the hell are you doing? Am I going to seriously talk to Mom about setting a code on the machine or something?"
I got off and cried.
I couldn't tell her what was wrong because everytime I tried to tell her, it sounded so irrational. But in my head, it was rational.
A little later, I was going to eat a cookie my Mom made. I was in the kitchen with my sister and my Dad when my Dad said something to me. I don't even remember what it was but when I responded, he went off. I ran out of the kitchen hysterical and into my room.
Again, it was obvious that I did something wrong. That I wasn't good enough. That no one cared. That I didn't deserve to eat the cookie I was going to or I didn't deserve to eat at all.
I guess in a way, my not eating has become a way for me to punish myself and those around me that hurt me. As messed up as that it is.
I ended up eating some but not as much as I have been.
I was hungry when I went to bed but i wouldn't let myself eat.
When I woke up this morning, this all hit me.
The day before Thanksgiving, I was laying in bed after I woke up thinking about getting out of bed when it hit me that this was all a coping mechanism and had nothing to do with food. But I didn't realize thats what I was doing yesterday.
Until this morning.
Today was going to be hard. I knew it when I woke up. I had a nutritionist appointment and I had promised my sister long ago that I'd take her to lunch today.
When I got up, I was stressing over lunch. I cried. I told my Mom I didn't want to do it. I cried all the way to the nutritionist about a lunch.
When I got to the nutritionist, we talked and she calmed me down. We talked for a long time. She wants me to eat a Blizzard this month. Thats like, one of my ultimate fears. I can work out a little now that I'm not walking to and from classes but I had to tell my family how much so if I do more than that, they can stop me. Because if I do more than she says, I can't do any.
After the appointment, I went to lunch with my sister.
At a pizza place. Where I got a piece of pizza and a salad. And I ate it. And it was good. And I had a wonderful time with my sister.
After we were done, I felt alive. I felt like I had been reminded about what life is all about. It was awesome.
Now that I've been home and had dinner and everything else, I'm bloated up and feel unbelievably fat. Even though part of my head knows I'm not. I swear I look bigger in the mirror. I swear I gained weight. Even if that other part of my head knows its not even possible.
There are certain things that trigger me and certain people. Some of them, I have some control over. Some of them, I do not. For instance, my Dad is an alcoholic. He's in denial however. But his drinking triggers me. I can't control him though. So I have to learn how to not let his destructive behaviors destroy me too.
There's so much to this. And its so complicated.
And right now, I'm wishing it was as easy as just eating some pizza.
When we were at my grandparents house for Thanksgiving, I was changing my shirt. My sister was in the room because I didn't care. When I started to change, she gasped from across the room and had an awkward look on her face. When I asked her what was wrong, the above quote is what she replied with.
I didn't see it. Sure, you could see my ribs but I was in no way scary looking. At least not to me.
The other night when I was going to take a shower, I turned on the water to let the bathroom heat up. As I got undressed, I looked in the mirror. This time, I gasped. My rib cage completely exposed. My chest nonexistent. I have ridges where my chest should be. You can see the bone structure and chest plate. I turned around and saw my back.
I looked like I was dying.
Or rather, I look like I'm dying.
That was the first time I saw it.
But I still feel fat.
All this week, I've been noticing a direct correlation with what was going on in my life and how I felt to how I ate or didn't eat. Its interesting.
Yesterday was the day from hell. I had my last final, which in itself wasn't too terrible but I had just bombed one the day before. I walked to campus and it was pouring rain. I had my umbrella but it was also windy and so I was soaking wet by the time I got into the book store to sell my books back.
I opened the door to the bookstore and walked in shaking off my excess water and sliding my hair back.
And then I saw him.
Sulton.
He looked at me and I looked at him and we just sort of stared for a minute. I didn't move. When I finally did manage to make some sort of movement, he made a gesture to show me that he was with the girl standing shortly in front of him. And I just looked at him.
And then walked away like I hadn't seen him.
I walked to the back of the store and pretended to look at magazines or something. Anything. Anything that wasn't him.
And then I started planning. Planning how I could cut out lunch and cursing myself for eating as much as I already had. Trying to figure out how I could cut out the rest of the day to make up for the 187 calories I had already eaten. Trying to figure out how I could stay below 600.
When I realized I couldn't.
My logic was that I wasn't good enough. I was never good enough for him. And seeing him brought back vivid painful memories of how I felt cheapened and dirtied by him. How I was never good enough for him to date officially but I was good enough for him to share a bed. How I was never good enough for him. How I knew that when I was "with" him that if I would have been thinner, things would have been different.
Seeing him brought back horrible thoughts. Painful memories. Pain.
When I got home, I figured I had to do SOMETHING. So I excersized. For the normal person, it wasn't overexcersizing but for me, it most defenitely was. I was going to keep going when my sister got home and asked me "What the hell are you doing? Am I going to seriously talk to Mom about setting a code on the machine or something?"
I got off and cried.
I couldn't tell her what was wrong because everytime I tried to tell her, it sounded so irrational. But in my head, it was rational.
A little later, I was going to eat a cookie my Mom made. I was in the kitchen with my sister and my Dad when my Dad said something to me. I don't even remember what it was but when I responded, he went off. I ran out of the kitchen hysterical and into my room.
Again, it was obvious that I did something wrong. That I wasn't good enough. That no one cared. That I didn't deserve to eat the cookie I was going to or I didn't deserve to eat at all.
I guess in a way, my not eating has become a way for me to punish myself and those around me that hurt me. As messed up as that it is.
I ended up eating some but not as much as I have been.
I was hungry when I went to bed but i wouldn't let myself eat.
When I woke up this morning, this all hit me.
The day before Thanksgiving, I was laying in bed after I woke up thinking about getting out of bed when it hit me that this was all a coping mechanism and had nothing to do with food. But I didn't realize thats what I was doing yesterday.
Until this morning.
Today was going to be hard. I knew it when I woke up. I had a nutritionist appointment and I had promised my sister long ago that I'd take her to lunch today.
When I got up, I was stressing over lunch. I cried. I told my Mom I didn't want to do it. I cried all the way to the nutritionist about a lunch.
When I got to the nutritionist, we talked and she calmed me down. We talked for a long time. She wants me to eat a Blizzard this month. Thats like, one of my ultimate fears. I can work out a little now that I'm not walking to and from classes but I had to tell my family how much so if I do more than that, they can stop me. Because if I do more than she says, I can't do any.
After the appointment, I went to lunch with my sister.
At a pizza place. Where I got a piece of pizza and a salad. And I ate it. And it was good. And I had a wonderful time with my sister.
After we were done, I felt alive. I felt like I had been reminded about what life is all about. It was awesome.
Now that I've been home and had dinner and everything else, I'm bloated up and feel unbelievably fat. Even though part of my head knows I'm not. I swear I look bigger in the mirror. I swear I gained weight. Even if that other part of my head knows its not even possible.
There are certain things that trigger me and certain people. Some of them, I have some control over. Some of them, I do not. For instance, my Dad is an alcoholic. He's in denial however. But his drinking triggers me. I can't control him though. So I have to learn how to not let his destructive behaviors destroy me too.
There's so much to this. And its so complicated.
And right now, I'm wishing it was as easy as just eating some pizza.