It has been a little over a month since I broke my beautiful run of binge-free bliss. I was so happy when I was abstinent. I was so proud. I felt so free. But then it all came crashing down. In the time since then, I have not been “sober”. I have been binge eating every few days, if not overeating every day. I have subsequently gained back all the weight I had lost, plus more. I am now the biggest I have ever been. Which, admittedly, is still not overweight. But it’s unnecessary, self-inflicted fat that I now wear. It feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable on my body. It makes me so sad.
But, having said that, I have got a preliminary psych appointment in about 10 days. I also just reached the part of my binge-eating book that talks about treatment. It focuses on CBT and describes a CBT self-help plan. As I prepare for these two things to begin, I need to be OK with binge eating. I am clinging to this self-destructive pattern because it is familiar, in the hope it will get me through a tough time. My subconscious is stubborn. It prefers the known road. It doesn’t want to jump off this lilypad yet, because it can’t see where to go from here. So, right now, I will binge if I need to. I give myself permission.
And tonight I did binge. My binge-eating book doesn’t agree with classifying BE as an addiction, but I know it is for me. It gives me release like nothing else.
It’s terrible, really. Much as I “allow” myself to do it, it is still horrfying and scary. My poor body, being mistreated so badly. Again and again. I don’t want to give myself diabetes, for goodness’ sake. This is my health and welfare. It’s not a game.
But I also know I will overcome this. I don’t know how yet but, with the right support and the right tools, I will. I’ll build up my self-worth again, and convince my ugly self-critic that I deserve health and happiness. Because I do. Even if, at this moment, I don’t think I do. Does that make sense?
I’m rambling. Sugar coma. Bed time.