Fighting Fat

I had a relapse last night.

When I’m at school, I eat to cope with the stress of having so much to do and being homesick. I think to myself, “I’ll eat better when I relax at home.” But when I’m at home, I eat to cope with the fact that my uncle’s ghost seems to follow my mom everywhere she goes and that my family isn’t as happy as I like to pretend it is.

The last time I purged was a few days before Christmas, so I’m really getting stronger. I’ve been binge eating a lot lately, though. Like every few days. They haven’t been so bad as they were when I was back at school, which is why I’m able to still lose weight. But it doesn’t change that this disorder is still very much a part of me.

I’ve been craving the feeling of control. I think that was why I liked counting calories so much. I felt totally in charge, not like now. Maybe it’s just my disorder talking, but I’ve been feeling the need to start counting again. The devil on my shoulder reassures me that this time, I’ll be healthier. I’ll make sure that I’m eating 1200 calories net instead of limiting my intake to that.

But I have to fight it. I know that’s how it starts for me. Then I’ll be back in the depressed, miserable place I over the summer.

I’m having pretty crazy thoughts about how I’ll eat in Cuba as well. They range from “Everything in moderation, just remember that a serving of rice is the size of your fist and that you don’t have to eat anything you don’t like,” to, “You can fast! No one will notice! Lose 45 lbs in three months! Don’t ever eat breakfast or lunch, only eat when other people are watching you!”

I’m at a healthy weight. I can run a mile easily, my arthritis pain is (mostly) under control, my blood pressure is healthy, and my doctors tell me to not worry about weight loss because everything looks so great. But I’m still not happy.

Cuba is a huge step for me. It’ll be three months without my friends to bitch at, without my beloved gym, and without talking to my parents daily. It can offer me a fresh, clean start. But I have to be willing to take that chance and not let my disorder taint it.

I think I’m going to try to do a lot of yoga this week to prepare myself. Nothing puts me in a better emotional place than yoga. As much as I love running and lifting, I never feel like I’m doing enough when I do them. If my shirts aren’t drenched, then I didn’t push myself hard enough. If I can walk easily at the end of the week, I didn’t work out hard enough.

I’ve had yoga classes where I’ve spent 2/3 of it in child’s pose. I’ve cried through yoga classes because I was so depressed. But every time I leave one, I always feel like I did my best because I took care of myself.

That’s the key right there. I think I need to stop abusing myself and punishing myself with food and need to take care of myself.