I just realized how all-defining my binges have become. Or, are. And always have been. And I didn’t ‘just’ realize this either. I’ve known it all along and I’ve even become a religious abuser of this knowledge.
My binges are all-defining for my entire day, my feelings, my selfworth, my happiness, my pain; My binges are defining my life. And not in a yay!-kinda way.
When you read the available information about bingeing during anorexia and during recovery, you’ll read about it not actually counting as binges, since it is just a (fast) aid to help you plough on. To repair the damage done.
Also. when you read about ‘other’ sides of anorexia, other than (non)food-related I mean, you’ll come across quite some stories of selfharm/self-injury, low self-esteem, etc. Somehow my ED has found the perfect mix; self harm through (non)eating. Where first bingeing would mean a week without a bite to eat as a punishment, soon I found out that the binges itself were an even ‘better’ way of punishment themselves. Where the restriction caused ‘highs’, the binges lead to lows. Deep lows.
When I ‘discovered’ this, the nasty side of me started to make use of this information. Where binges would ‘normally’ be followed by restriction, now they were followed by even more binges. Multiple times a day, every single day, for months. The binges caused physical pain, litterally making me incapable of joining in in real life. But they also caused a lot of emotional pain. They lowered my already tiny self-esteem even further, crippling me down to a little sorry mess of nothingness. I would not be able to go outside anymore, see friends and family, join in for dinners or parties, go to Uni or even to go for a walk with the dog. I was unable to do all of this, simply because I was no longer able to even stand up straight from the pain, but also because I was so deeply ashamed of myself I could not face the world outside that hell of my kitchen.
And therefore I wouldn’t. I would stay in, alone. More and more alone everytim it happened. And more and more ashamed. And thus I’d do what I deserved; be punished. And so I binged. Again. Leading to more pain and shame. Which needed to be punished, again.
Days turned into weeks turned into months. Now, more than half a year later, I physically do not look like the girl I was when I realized bingeing was my number 1 way of successful self-harm. But also emotionally I feel more messed up than ever.
I do not know what I wanted this post to lead to. If anywhere. I just needed to write it down. I know I need to change this, because if I continue down this road, there will be nothing left of me. People now see a healthy girl on the outside, whereas I am shattered within. I need to find way to cope. But in order to do that, I need to believe I am worth searching and finding coping skills. Right now, I don’t. I feel like I deserve this punishment, over and over and over again. And it is destroying me, in every way. I WANT this to stop, I WANT to be able to live my life. To become me again. I WANT to WANT to do this, but right now, I’m stuck in my self-created hellhole. Even if I can locate the exit, I’m not sure if I can let myself open it. Who am I to deserve whatever is behind that door? Who am I to deserve anything other than to live the mess I created myself?