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So for this post I'm going to use the internet to vent about something deeply personal and painful, and that thing is named: I went to a restaurant and got a salad that had a lot of guacamole and sour cream on it and I ate most of it and boy do I feel bad. So bad I want to work out for a few hours then barf then deep-clean my house then carve into my arm a little bit and then sort of pant and run around and then do it all over again.
Such a small thing, but narcotics are small things, too.
A lot of people, but not as many as you'd think, are apprised of what eating disorders are. But I would venture to guess that most people genuinely believe us binge&purge tribespeople are in it for the glory, for vanity, for stupidity, for selfishness, for greed (dang, this is starting to sound like I'm listing the cardinal sins), or for reasons other than mental illness.
But we aren't. Eating disorders are not about what you probably think they're about. My father, for example, still believes that he helped me get better by commanding me to eat more when I decided to stop (gj, dad. psych!).
Obviously, or maybe not so obviously, the complex emotions behind your garden-variety eating disorder - low self-esteem, OCD, depression, body-dysmorphia, suicidal tendencies, anxietyanxietyanxiety - will not go away so easily. It's like telling someone with cancer to stop having cancer - pretty much pointless.
If you feel out of control, someone holding you down and shoving a burrito in your mouth is not going to make you feel like you have more control; if you feel you want to die because you're a festering scab on the earth, being informed that your ED is selfish or stupid is not going to make you want to not kill yourself; if you feel anxious about everything, including the food you eat and the body you carry around, being told not to worry or that you look fine or that you should get over it or that psychiatric medication isn't worth it because it steals your soul and your sex drive isn't going to change the fact that you have Issues.
For my part, I consider my ED to be an addiction. While I am in recovery, think of myself as clean and sober. The nature of the disease is such that I personally am ultimately responsible for living and not dying of something lovely like cardiac arrest, but that doesn't mean I don't resent it when people make ignorant assumptions about me, my mind, my health, my disease, and my body, if I'm open about it.
Saying you're bulimic and proud might be going a little too far, but I have a feeling if I were more comfortable expressing it, I'd be less scared of a jicama salad from a Tex-Mex restaurant.






























