December has been quite horrible so far. I was looking forward to Advent, to going on Pointe, to feeling cosy and Christmas-y. Instead, I started the month by binge eating and feeling bad and have continued on this path.
I was so happy to reach my goal weight. I felt so good about myself at that weight, so finally normal, so no-longer-guilty. And I went and ruined it and ate too much. No idea how much I really gained, I haven’t weighed myself for days because I didn’t want to see the number, knowing it would only make me feel worse. But I can see that I gained weight, and it isn’t all water retention, either. I fell head over heels into my old binge eating pattern. In the last two weeks, there were more binge days than others. Every day, every time, I would decide to stop, only to do it again. Arguments for and against overeating keep fighting in my mind, distracting me. Back and forth, for and against, until I didn’t know who I was and what I wanted anymore. When I ate, I wanted to be thin. When I went back to counting, I wanted to overeat. It’s just horrible. It went so far that I tried to make myself vomit, seriously tried this time. Part of me is relieved that it didn’t work. I am trying to be there for myself, to forgive myself and not ‘leave myself alone’ as Mrs. H calls it. Even if I gain a few pounds, it isn’t the end of the world. I still look pretty much as I looked before. I am still quite fit and haven’t lost my ballet technique or anything. But I just know that gaining weight is not an option. I can’t like myself at a higher weight. This isn’t me. I feel like a failure, like a liar. I feel intense regret. I am very, very afraid because I seem to have no control.
I was so careful, eating at a moderate deficit, allowing myself treats every day, all to avoid the dreaded restriction and binge cycle. I haven’t changed that. Why am I back here? All that changed was a gradual loss of that new feeling, that energy and inspiration I used to feel. The loneliness began to hurt me more. The rejection by Mandy, by Dinah. The sadness of spending these dark days mostly on my own instead of at home with my family, or with a lover. Cravings and thoughts of food increased. I have tried to turn it around, to rekindle my fire, but it takes more and more work to feel even a short spark.
I don’t know what to do, really. I am trying to be very kind to myself and take one day at a time. It doesn’t help that I’m ill right now and hurting everywhere, either. I will just have to wait it out and try to minmise the damage. Better times will come, I know. At least I am not as miserable or as fat as I was last December, which is a comforting thought.