Before coming here, I had no idea that there's someone else inside me. And get your mind out of the gutters, I don't mean it THAT way.
No, inside my head is me and then Ed. They're two different things, and when I think things like "Only use 3 slices of that fat free bologna instead of the 4 they want you to use. Less calories! Less calories!" or "You're nasty and the only way any guy will ever be remotely attracted to you is if your shoulder blades stick out and your hip bones protrude" I'M not really thinking them. Ed is.
Ed is a fucking bastard who doesn't know what he wants. He constantly contradicts himself. For example, on Monday, our conversation might look like this:
Ed: Have a bowl of vegetables for lunch. No dressing. No cheese. Nothing else. And don't even think of drinking anything other than water.
Me: But I'm hungry! I'm going to be starving later.
Ed: Good. Having hunger pains means you're getting skinnier.
Then, on Tuesday, Ed goes all fucking bipolar and says something like:
Ed: Go in the kitchen right now and eat those Pop Tarts. But don't wait till they're done in the toaster; while they're in there, have 2 bowls of cereal, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and as much of those Oreos as you can before the Pop Tarts are done. But when you're done with those, finish the Oreos.
Angie: But that's disgusting. I don't want to gain weight. I can't eat that much.
Ed: Just do it. Eat until you can't physically eat anymore, and then get rid of it. Just go in the bathroom and stay there till it's all gone.
To disassociate myself further from Ed, I'm trying to imagine what he looks and sounds like. At first, I was leaning towards someone who resembles Earl from "My Name is Earl": hairy, bald, wearing a sweat-stained beater and having a slight pedophilic vibe. However, I'm starting to think Ed's more like that demonic bunny thing in Donnie Darko: He has a creepy ass, deep voice and looks inhumane. Because trust me, if that motherfucker told me to do something, I'd do it.
However, while giving Ed his own personality and realizing it's not ME makes me feel irresponsible. Like I'm not taking responsibility for my own actions and blaming something else. But technically, I'm not blaming another person or situation. It's a fucked up part of my brain that I have to learn to retrain before I get out of here.
Before I get out of here. That seems to be my mantra these days. Today I almost started hyperventilating at the OA meeting. Sometimes I think these meetings do more harm than good. Hearing about these peoples' constant relapses and failures scares the shit out of me, and I had to work extremely hard to remain calm during the meeting.
Amelia gave me a bracelet the other day that says Love Your Body, Every Body. The entire time I was freaking out at the meeting, I just kept looking at the bracelet and retracing the letters with my hand. I need all the reminders I can get that breaking out of this disease IS possible and it's something that I WILL do.
Today's another good day. Maybe it was the Starbucks run in the afternoon or the walk we took on the beach, but my mood remained good throughout the day. It's funny. I'm here, in this new situation surrounded by people I haven't known very long, but it's one of the safest and homiest places I've been in a long time. Usually, this type of situation would cause Ed to come out and play, but I haven't even had many urges since coming here. At least, not compared to the amount I had before coming.
However, after dinner I felt the urge. The urge to purge (rhyme intended). I knew I couldn't, but just feeling that way is extremely, extremely shitty. So I started talking to myself in my head (I'm not really making a case for my sanity through these notes). I said "Angie, why are you upset?" And I realized: I felt stressed from having to cook tonight, I felt kind of pressured to call my mom because we haven't spoken, and just agitated that the dessert we had tonight kind of tasted (and looked) like shit. Creamy Mocha Custards are not as delicious as they lead you to believe.
But I'm so proud and happy for myself that I was able to channel these feelings and identify them without Ed having a say in anything. It's been the first time in....maybe EVER since this fucking thing started that I've been able to do that. But now I'm just scared. Scared that I'll get overconfident in my saying no abilities which will inevitably lead to a relapse. It's been 12 days, 12 FUCKING days since I've done it, and I'm beginning to feel normal. And alive. And like me. And I know I'm going to have shitty days and urges and cravings and fears and everything else that life is, but I just want to know that I have the power and the strength to fight those things and not be thrown back into the depths of hell, which is honestly where you wind up when you have an eating disorder. It is living, breathing hell every waking moment of your life and it's even more frustrating because YOU'RE the reason you're in that hell. Yeah, Ed is telling you what to do, but YOU'RE the one not eating. YOU'RE the one shoving food in your mouth, and YOU'RE the one sticking your fingers down your throat.
I just want to get rid of that voice, that goddamn voice that keeps telling me I'm not good enough and not pretty enough and not smart enough and not as much of a PERSON and that the reason for all this is because of my weight. Rationally, I know these things aren't true. In fact, the way I look now--like a fucking coke addict going through withdrawal--is what is making me unattractive. The sunken eyes, the grayish skin tone, and the not having enough energy to walk thing are usually not the top three things guys look for in the opposite sex. I just wish it were that simple..."It's not attractive. I should gain weight." Oh, how I wish, wish, WISH it were that simple.
Tomorrow Nicola is having pancakes for breakfast and the other day asked me if I would do it with her. Because Amelia was so kind to me with the whole grilled cheese incident and knowing I wasn't alone in it made me feel SO much better, I agreed to do it with Nicola. But tomorrow night is a challenge meal, and the thought of pancakes for breakfast causes me anxiety. But I have to do it. I have to. I never thought I'd be pissed at myself for turning AWAY fatty foods, but I seriously felt so weak after not eating the peanut butter and banana. WHO THE FUCK IS SCARED OF PEANUT BUTTER AND PANCAKES????!
Fuck. It's so ridiculous. But it's what I have to live with.
Fuck you, Ed. I wish we'd never met.
That was spectacularly written. I had never heard of that little voice being described as a second person within oneself, but it really makes sense for dealing with it. If only they'd teach that to little girls nowadays.