Disordered Eating

Let's just get this out of the way:

I have an eating disorder.

I have never actually said that to anyone other than a therapist before. My husband is aware of it, of course, but I'm not even sure he's aware of the extent of damage.

More specifially, I have Disordered Eating. My therapist once told me that an Eating Disorder is a diagnosis, which people assume can be cured, where as Disordered Eating is a journey that needs to be constantly monitored. I have ranged from anorexic, to bulemic, to binge eating, to obsessiveness about where my food came from and whether or not it met an impossible standard of health, to a complete disregard to anything health related as my "rebellion."

My Disordered Eating is my earliest memory. It was Christmas, and I was maybe 4 or 5. I was wearing a red plaid dress, and eating potato chips non stop. We never, NEVER got potato chips at home, and this was an unbelievable treat for me. I was unable to stop. Literally. I ate and ate and ate and ate the entire day. My Mom told me to stop eating so much, so I proceeded to hide the fact that I was eating anything unhealthy from her for the next ten years. (I guess I tend to be extreme when it comes to eating) I ate potato chips until I threw up that day, and discovered the release that came from the binge and purge. Thus the dangerous cycle began.

My sister on the left, me on the right

My first diet was at eight. Despite my first experience of the binge and purge, I was unable to control the purge (that came later), so I was stuck with the binge. There was a certain comfort in eating until I was uncomfortable. Obviously, I was overweight. My best friend, Nikki, was one of the gorgeous, tan, bubbly girls who being thin and graceful came naturally. I was chubby, had super short hair, and liked to punch boys on the playground. We practically invented the word Frenemies. Of course, it was really only my issue. She was nice, I was the jerk who couldn't stop eating and hated myself for it. At eight years old.

The face of a boy puncher in the making.

So I went on a diet with my Mom. She also has Disordered Eating, fed by an even more Disordered Marriage, and was willing to try and help my habits by addressing the effect rather than the cause. I lost weight, and was secretly wishing my entire life would be different because of it, while still unsure why I thought that. I mean, I was eight. How bad was my life anyways? But I remember thinking, "Great, now everyone will like me better!" Instead, Nikki's mom came up to me after Coffee and Donuts at church one day (where I had just had a 30 minute debate with myself about eating a powdered donut or not) and asked me if I had lost weight.

I was mortified. Terrified. Beyond embarrassed. Everyone was supposed to like me better now, but no one was supposed to know WHY. No one was supposed to notice that I had been chubby in the first place! If they now noticed I was thinner, that meant they had noticed I was fat in the first place! I immediately went home and binged on Oreos. I need the comfort that came from being uncomfortably full. It was my punishment for trying to better myself.

Throughout High School and College I ranged from not eating in front of certain people, to binge eating in my basement, to binge eating in public to prove "that I could." I was unable to disconnect who I was from what I ate, and my self worth was based on how much I weighed and how much control I had over food.

Me and the Hubby our Freshman year of college.

Generally my Disordered Eating was of the binge and occassional purge variety, which led me to be chubby throughout my life. Then my parents announced they were getting divorced when I was 21. I was shocked. During my parents divorce, something changed. I was unable to control anything else in my life except my eating, so I took it to an extreme (surprise, surprise) and just stopped eating. I sustained myself for three years on a single bagel with peanut butter every other day. It was the only time in my life I was happy with my weight. Too bad I was so unhappy with everything else.

As things got better with my family, I lost control of my eating again, and gained weight again. I was even a failure at eating disorders, apparently.



That cycle continues to this day. I have had so many episodes of self punishment I can't even begin to outline them here. Every event in my life, good, bad, whatever, is connected in my mind to food and my weight. What did I eat that day? What did I weigh?

I was 134 lbs on my wedding day, and had an egg and cheese sandwich from Dunkin Donuts while getting my hair done. Ate just about nothing for the rest of the day, though I actually think thats pretty normal.

First day of college I was 152 lbs and ate NOTHING, because I was determined to not be the fat girl who ate too much.



Parents divorce? Thinnest I've ever been in my life, 119 lbs, ate a bagel with peanut butter every other day and not much else. 

First CF party? 139 lbs, was drunk, and a few fellow CFers jokingly convinced me that I had eaten a bite of pizza, so I threw up in the bathroom. That was in November of this past year, but I mostly have had control of that aspect of my life since August, other than that one incident.

The point is not how much I weighed, or that I remember what I ate. It's that it's not a healthy relationship with food. It's full of emotion and guilt and punishment. It's not an enjoyment, even when I'm enjoying the food. And I DO enjoy food. Hence, the Disordered Eating part, not the Eating Disorder. I cannot be cured, but this whole thing CAN be managed.



Friends and family keep me sane throughout.



I'd like to say that CF and Paleo have saved my life, and that I've been able to get full control of everything else, etc. But, that would be a lie. It's probably what I could make you believe. I've convinced people my whole life that I'm fine. My husband, love him though I do, often will tell me to "Just stop eating the chocolate, Babe. You can do it!" His encouragment, though well intended, simplifies the disorder.

 I've actually convinced myself at times that I don't have a problem because I'm not skinny. "Only skinny people have eating disorders!" Paleo and CF became my latest obsession; the newest, coolest way for me to punish myself. "Is that Paleo? Can I have that? OMG, NOT PALEO? I'm not eating it. OMG, I ATE SOMETHING THAT WASN'T PALEO? I'M A FAILURE."

But, I'm not. I'm on a journey, with stumbles and bumps in the road. I'm not even remotely close to perfect. I will never be. My goal for the year is to finally accept this. And be a little more open and honest about my Disordered Eating.