I don't understand why my brain has to send so many mixed signals.
Do you ever feel like people are looking at you? Like you're the token 'sick girl'? Yesterday at the gym I felt like I was being judged, not for looking fat or in great shape, but for looking too thin-- for looking like the girl you want to give a cheeseburger to. I tried to dismiss the looks and convince myself I was being paranoid, but after my run, I raced back down to the locker room in tears. The moment I got home I headed right to the kitchen and began to eat. And eat. And eat. Until I felt 'full'. I had forgotten what fullness felt like. At that point I just sat and cried. I don't want to be the 'sick girl', I want to be toned and healthy. But after the binge, I was angry at myself-- correction, ED was angry and made me promise to refrain from peanut butter for the next two days. I feel like I can't win. I'm miserable when I'm too thin yet I'm angry when I'm closer to my 'goal weight'. This constant tug of war drives me mad. And it's tiring, both physically and mentally.
Exhaustion does not justify the physical and mental state I find myself in. I struggle to find a balance between a social life and independence. I know it's important to be open and honest with friends and family, but sometimes I want to be alone. I want to enjoy the company of my own misery every once in a while, is that such a crime? (Meant to be a rhetorical question because, yes it can be detrimental). Isolation is not healthy, for anyone's sanity. I apologize if what I'm about to write is offensive or rude and I can't stress enough how appreciative I am to have such loyal friends, but sharing my tribulations and struggles to many people multiple times a day can be exhausting. What's more, I've noticed I dwell far too much as I am constantly reminded of negative thoughts about food, weight or body image-- especially because those are such superficial aspects of the eating disorder.
I just wish I could find a happy medium (at least weight wise) and be content. But I am discerned because I know it's not about the weight. Thoughts in forms of extremities tend to overwhelm my mind as I judge life in black and white. Where is the grey I've worked so hard to find? And why can't find the answers to my questions? As I check in with myself, I am troubled by indecision.
"Beauty comes as much from the mind as from the eye." --Grey Livingston
P.S. Is it not ironic that his name is 'Grey'?