I'm really trying to challenge myself to stick to my meal plan, and not skip any meals, even though I'm feeling uncomfortable with my body. The urge to restrict is strong, and Claudia is loud, but so far I've been able to ignore her. Yesterday afternoon we went to see a movie, and I ate some candy. I wasn't really hungry later in the evening, and thought about skipping dinner, but I forced myself to eat a salad and a piece of salmon. I'm also usually very horrible when it comes to eating breakfast, but lately I have been having a bowl of yogurt with some granola sprinkled on top. Today I even had some fruit to go with it. I do have tons more energy, and my mood, as long as I'm not obsessing about my weight, is great. I know that I just have to sit with all of these uncomfortable feelings, and the rest will work itself out eventually. I just have to have faith, keep believing, and continue to challenge myself, even though I'm afraid.
I've eaten well this week, and I tell myself that this is good, but still... I am afraid. I'm afraid to get undressed, to take a shower, to look at or even touch my body in any way. Claudia's voice whispers. It is an angry, hissing whisper, which tells me; she too, is filled with fear.
Marya Hornbacher, author of the book Wasted says, "The voice of the eating disorder is stronger than any other voice in the world. I can only imagine, but it's got to be like the call of heroin, or alcohol, if you're an alcoholic or an addict. You will put aside everyone and everything, you will do exactly what you know is not right, for this voice. I called my eating disorder "The Bitch". She sort of sat on my shoulder and hissed in my ear. I mean, this is not hallucinating that there's someone on my shoulder hissing in my ear. But it really does feel like there is someone always behind you, watching what you do."
I agree. The voice of my eating disorder is strong, but there is also my voice, and it says, "I am stronger".
I started a blog on myspace almost a year ago, titled Conversations With Claudia, and this was my first post.
Who is Claudia? She is not my friend, but she has been a part of my life for a very long time. She is the voice of my eating disorder. A voice that over time, has crowded out my own thoughts and beliefs. I'm hoping that someday I will leave her behind.
I have an amazing therapist and also a nutritionist who thought it would be a good idea to give my eating disorder a seperate identity from myself. It would be a way to delineate between my own voice and the voice of the eating disorder. I'm finally beginning to see how often Claudia talks to me. She is bossy, demanding, snide, snotty, and degrading. She is also the one with the control most of the time, but I know that needs to change if I am to survive.
I remember the first time she spoke to me. I was seven years old, sitting in church, and looking down at my thighs as I sat in the pew. "Your legs are so fat,"! She said.
Why did she choose that moment to begin her torment? I'm not really sure. My mom, grandma, and two aunts were constantly dieting and discussing their weight. I'm sure that their conversations wormed their way into what I began to also believe about myself.
Being raped at the age of eleven was the real beginning of my self loathing and hatred. A secret that I held inside, suffocating my voice, and letting the shame eat me alive. Puberty began soon after, and with it, the ultimate betrayal of my own body.
I'm hoping that writing down some of the conversations that I have with Claudia will help me to find my own voice, and hopefully, someday, my voice will be louder than hers.
It feels wonderful to read this again, just to see how far I have come. Is my voice louder than the voice of Claudia's? Yes, I think it is, and damn, it feels good! I believe that the writing saved me. I began writing blogs, writing poetry, writing in my journal, writing my thoughts in e-mails to my therapist. I couldn't seem to stop writing, and more than that, I felt such a strong desire to share what I had written. First with my therapist, who encouraged me with compliments on the poetry that I would share with her. I created a website with my poems, www.poetrypoem.com/4angel , and then I started blogging; Sharing with strangers about things that I had kept secret for most of my life. Through writing, I found the freedom to unlock the silence, and begin the process of healing.
I'm holding on to everything that I can right now. I'm holding on to Dave, my kids. I'm holding all of this love from everyone so deep inside of my heart. Holding on so tight that my whole entire being feels like an open wound. How many times can I say how very afraid I am? I'm so afraid to let go of the eating disorder. I hold on to Claudia(aka, my ED) more than anything or anyone else. I trust that she will always be here for me, and she certainly never lets me down! It is time though... Time to let go... Time to trust and believe in the one person who holds the key, and that is me. I hold the key.
I have started packing for Renfrew. I'm taking the quilt from our bed. That will help to make me feel close to home. I bought an electric shaver so that I wouldn't have to go and ask for a razor everytime that I want to shave. Yesterday I went without makeup except for mascara, and I dyed my hair back to it's natural color. I won't have to worry so much about my roots! I don't mind going without makeup, but with my hair darker, I need a bit of color, so today I'm wearing a little. Dave wanted some pitures of me before I left, so I'm posting one of them. Let me know what you think, unless you hate it. Keep that to yourself!
Much love,
Angie
It has been a crazy day here at work, and I'm feeling anxious. Some of the students that I work with are self-injurious, so there has been a lot of that going on today.
Biting and headbanging have been the most common, some of which has been quite severe. Instead of taking a lunch break, here I am. Eating would just cause more anxiety for me right now, so that is my choice.
Yesterday I had a panic attack over getting dressed. I hated everything that I put on,and with each change of outfit, I felt as if I were increasing in size. It was ridiculous, and the rational side of my brain knew this, yet I couldn't seem to change the path that Claudia was leading me down. All that I could do was sit on the floor of my closet and cry. I finally gave up and just put my baggy sweats back on and called it a day. I'm not sure what it is that makes me feel that way. Today I got dressed with no problem, putting on the very first outfit I tried on. Of course, I couldn't just hole up in the house with my sweats on today either, because I needed to go to work.
Sometimes I think that it would be nice to just give into Claudia and deny that I even have an eating disorder, like I used to do.
This constant fight toward eating disorder recovery is just wearing me out right now. I know that because I'm trying to deal with past issues, it makes fighting even harder. The problem is that it does work. It is a wonderful distraction from actually feeling and addressing the pain inside. There is that, and then there is everything else that seems to work against someone with food issues. Extreme thinness is prized in our society. There is rarely a day that goes by when someone does not comment on my size in a positive way. It is very hard not to want to hang on to it with everything that I've got. Unfortunately my identity is somewhat tied into my size. I'm a little over five feet tall, and when I was in high school, I weighed more than I should for my height.Not a lot more, but enough to be called pudgy. My dad would comment on my weight. He would say that it was such a shame, when I had such a pretty face. Right before going through puberty, I was raped, and then when puberty hit, I put on a lot of weight in a short amount of time. I hated everything about my body. It was my enemy; the betrayer. After high school I began exercising and restricting my food intake, and of course the weight came off, and all of the positive attention that went with that. Focusing on calories, abusing laxatives and diuretics and keeping all of it such a secret certainly kept my mind busy. I didn't have the time or energy to focus on the rape! I was so starved most of the time that I couldn't focus at all. What is sad is that at my lowest weight, when I weighed much less than what my ten year old son weighs now, I would still get compliments on my size. People couldn't even look beyond my size to notice that my hair was falling out, my skin was pale, the whites of my eyes were jaundiced, and I couldn't stop shaking from being so cold. How do I recover? How? Sometimes I feel that it is what defines me. Who am I without it? Yes, of course I realize that I am so much more than what I weigh, but it is so hard to get beyond it when there are so many people out there who don't want to let me. The eating disorder is the perfect tool for numbing the pain, but I let the constant comments of others trigger me to continue on a path that will ultimately destroy me. The fight is wearing me out, and I'm at a loss right now. When will I be strong enough to shut out the voice of the eating disorder. The voice that I call Claudia. She is in my head, she is the voice of my dad, she is the stranger on the street, or the comment of an innocent co-worker. How do I win? How?
I haven't eaten today because I feel like such
a fat, disgusting pig. The voice of Claudia calls.
She wants to be clean. She wants to feel safe.
She is angry, insistant, and so loud. I ignore her.
I think that I feel much worse without her.
I am afraid to be without her for very long.
I hate who I am when I am without her.
I hate her.
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