I'm not. Logically, I know this. 114 lbs. Size 4. And that's after 4 kids and a whole lot of brownies. Most of the time I can carry on like every day is normal and I don't think about her. Something about this time of year. Or maybe it's been going on for so long that it's all one long string of it and I didn't notice.
But here I am. Today I decided that I need to go back to food check ins and accountability. The signs have been popping up and it's becoming more and more apparent. I am abusing food again. Today, I sat at my desk and thought about what I was doing to myself again as I stared at 2 mandarin oranges and a cup of oatmeal. Sounds healthy. Like I'm eating clean. Eating the right foods. Except, I'm not. And I have to come to grips with it.
The last year I've dealt with swollen lymph nodes, increased illnesses, hair falling out, intolerance to cold, sluggish/run down feeling. I saw my doctor, an ENT, and an infectious disease specialist and no one had answers. Until I started craving really odd things - like chalk. On one more visit with my doctor and one more round of blood work - I have a severe zinc deficiency. I've starved my body of essential protein and have made myself sick. I was eating "negative calorie" foods. In the back of my mind, I knew I wouldn't gain weight if I stuck to fruits and veggies. This has been second nature for well over the last year and a half.
I ate a lot over the holidays. I thought that I could be okay with some Pilates, some cardio, some light weight lifting. But it's becoming obsessive. I have been skipping lunch to go work out, rather than eat. And not eating to replace the lost calories. But the thought of food annoys me. It's wasted time. Time I could be getting "fit". Working on burning fat, sculpting some decent abs, bikini ready arms, and that ever desirable inner thigh gap.
This is not how I want to die. (I have an actual list of ways that I do not want to die. Seriously. This is on it. Along with water, fire, wind, falling out of buildings) I have this amazing life now. A life that I didn't have a year ago. A wonderful husband, wonderful kids, wonderful family, wonderful friends, wonderful home, wonderful job, wonderful life. I'm happy every day. But when I look at a plate of food, I mentally start taking notes about what's in it and is it "clean", is it full of fat, am I going to gain weight.... Sometimes, I can eat and not think about it. But lately, the last few weeks, that's drifting further from reality. Even today, I was supposed to have a meeting with The Middle Son's school for additional IEP review. And all I could think of was how I was going to fit my lunchtime work out in if I had to miss time at work. I was relieved when it got rescheduled. That meant I could go to the gym. This. Is. NOT. Okay.
I hate making the people I love think that they are not enough to fix me. I'm broken. I know what it's like to look at my kiddo when he's having a meltdown and punching himself in the face and I'm so totally helpless. I cannot quell that, only hold his hand back and try to stop him. That's what this must be like for them. Even though I am acutely aware of it, I am still doing it. Because there's a reward. Someone will tell me how good I look for being a 36 year old mother of 4. They will ask what my secret is and how I do it. And I can't bring myself to say that it's "anorexia". I just bask in the glow of the results of my crazy train.
So, here is step 1. Again. I'm admitting I have a problem. Again.
