Inside the Mind

Have you ever wondered what it is like to think like a person who has an eating disorder?

I am here to give you the insight you never knew you needed.

Now, I am what I like to call a recovering bulimic. I don't binge or purge habitually, but relapses happen occasionally because eating disorders are kind of like addictions; they don't really leave your mind all the way. You just train yourself to be stronger than the voice in your head that tells you that food is your enemy, that you need to have more control, that you'll never be good enough.

So, on a bad day, usually, there are external circumstances that start making it easier to amplify those thoughts. These are triggers.

Triggers can be different for different people, and they even vary for me. Sometimes, I can go through months of a stressful environment and never slip up. But other times, all it takes is one straw to break the back of the bulimic camel.

Recently, external circumstances included:

• less sleep than usual
• making large life decisions with plenty of unknowns still to be determined
• routinely falling behind and not getting caught up on housework
• increased isolation due to COVID-19
• increased hatred and judgment toward my family because of Clark's chosen profession

When I am not as strong as usual, these types of circumstances lead to:

• Feelings of loneliness
• Believing I don't matter to other people
• Thinking I am easily forgotten
• Increased irritation and anger toward others
• Self-flagellation because I can't get myself together
• Believing I need to work harder in order to be remembered and to matter
• Feeling discouraged because I might not be able to give more than I'm giving
• Resignation that I can never change and things won't improve
• Cynism over why I ever expected things to be better in the first place.

When this cycle of thoughts begins, I start thinking that my current goals are useless, that I was stupid to believe I could do anything, and that trying will only result in disappointment. At this point, I free myself from my sane self-restraint, and because nothing matters anyway, I might as well eat a cookie.

Now on better relapses, a cookie is just a cookie or two. On worse ones, a cookie is a cookie, and toast, and cereal, maybe some ice-cream, fruit snacks, a granola bar, and other things that kind of disappear into the black void of mental space.

After a while, the reality of what just occurred sinks in, and then the cycle is complete. What can be done, the disordered brain asks? Nothing, says rationality. Just move on, do better tomorrow, take care of yourself. No, disordered brain replies. This is bad. It will just make all those things that happened worse. People won't love you if you have no self-control. You were afraid you won't matter, and now you really won't matter. You should be ashamed of yourself. You really are as bad as you thought you were. Hmm, says rationality, this is an eating disorder talking. So what? disordered brain answers, this is a problem that needs to be fixed immediately.

At this point, rationality leaves the room.
And disordered brain fixes the problem.

All the voices kind of go quiet here.
Except one. My own voice. And all I can hear is a sort of exhausted whisper that even though all of that happened, I'm still getting better. We all have challenges to overcome, and this is one ongoing fight where I win most of the time. It's in the times when I lose where I can see the parts of myself where I am weak, the parts that still need work and reinforcement.

"The battle's in your mind, If you lose that, lose everything there is. The battle's in your head. If you lose that, then there's nothing left." - The Ballad of Jimjamal, The Tenglesons.