Content warning for anyone with an eating disorder, talking about real life struggles
There is nothing I despise more than thinking about getting into a swim suit, let alone having to buy one (well there are other things, this is just top of mind right now). The suit I have right now is 4 or 5 years old. A “nice” strapless one piece with ruche sides that tie. It’s brown, like an ugly brown (actually reminds me of my high school colors of orange and brown). It serves its purpose and I don’t have to think about it. Much.
Besides it being so old, the color really bothers me and I thought I could get something cute, fun, possibly even flattering. Maybe even get excited about it. Plus, I’ll be in Boston in July with a pool in our building and a kid that wants to spend most of her day poolside.
My daughter and I ventured to the mall on Sunday. Mostly to return things, and I did want to try on some suits. I picked out a few I thought I would like, both one-piece and two-piece options.
So — you know that voice inside your head? The self-critical one that points out all your shortcomings? Mine is a relentless, fucking mean venomous bitch that points out every little flaw and imperfection. She finds things that are SO obvious but somehow no one else sees them. I see them, and she sees them, and she rips me apart for exposing them to the public. She always comes with me to try on anything in the dressing room. Swim suits are her favorite. It’s funny isn’t it? I would never in a million lifetimes talk to another human the way I allow this voice to talk to me. I know I am not alone in this experience. It is not easy to turn off.
I was prepared for this, mostly, I knew the style I wanted and what I thought would look good. My first mistake was taking my daughter in the dressing room with me.
I barely had the first suit on and that voice in my head was speaking up — you really think you could wear that? In public? Do you see the dimples on your thighs? Do you see the cellulite? How can you NOT recognize that extra skin that just kinda lays there, or droops when you bend over? You have got to be kidding me!!! (see, mean girl)
As I tried on each successive suit, the internal voice got louder. So loud it completely clouded my thoughts. My daughter started saying things out loud about how I looked in the suits. Which ones she liked, didn’t like, specifically why she didn’t like it, what it accentuated…she was teasing me. It was as if my internal voice had found an outlet into the real world. I was telling her to stop, don’t tease, be nice, you are hurting my feelings, you really are hurting my feelings, if you keep this up I’m going to kick you out, get out, GET OUT! Please, if you don’t get out I will put you out myself!
Ding! At that moment my rational mind intervened and told me to stop. She is a kid. That I should not be taking my internal conversation so seriously and speak to her that way. And I threatened her physically (Worst Mom Ever! ribbon — second mistake)
I leaned over and whispered — it is really hard for me to talk about this here in the dressing room. What I want you to know is you are really hurting my feelings and I do not like how I am talking to you right now. So please, I’m asking you to be kind and we’ll talk about it in the car. She got really quiet and sullen and refused to talk to me the rest of the time in the mall.
On the car ride home I told her more about my eating disorder. That I was really overweight as a kid, that I lost weight and became bulimic and restricted calories and over-exercised and it is really hard for me to admit that. Because it is still a source of shame. And while I am now in good physical shape, I do not like to see myself in swim suits and it just brings out this beast inside. I don’t like having this self-critical conversation in my head. That it wasn’t fair for me to take out my own issues on her in the dressing room. She perked up a bit, asked some questions and was thinking about our conversation.
Somewhere between the mall and the house I decided I wanted sushi for dinner. Like, really really bad. It was the only thing I wanted to eat and could not think of anything else. She didn’t want sushi, and offered to find something at the store if I wanted it that badly. We stopped and I got what I wanted and she opted for one of her favorites. I was starting to feel better. We went home, ate dinner, watched part of a movie. She went to bed.
A dark film crossed over my brain.
I began spiraling hard. And fast.
ALL I could think about was the food in the house and is there anything I can purge. I opened every cabinet and searched the fridge. I was frantic, both in the sheer desire to engage in my eating disorder and the panic that I did not want to go there. I was trying to think calmly. I dawned on me, oh — that is why you wanted sushi so badly (it’s a safe food for me) It was an ugly battle waging in my head. I found pretzels, a whole bag of them, yeah — that would be easy. Let’s go!
no no no no no no no no no no no no… NO… NO!!!
I stopped. Physically stopped moving and stood in the middle of the kitchen. The panic started to ease, my heartrate returned to normal, I was taking deep breaths. The spiral stopped, my brain started to come back together. All of this occurred in 5-ish minutes.
What. The. Fuck!?!
The reality I have come to know going through treatment and knowing others with eating disorders. No one wants to talk about or share out loud. So much shame inside…
I LIVE with my eating disorder.
I am not recovered.
I am not cured.
Every day something comes up and I need to make a decision. Do I have the salad or pho or pizza for lunch (9.5 times out of ten it’s a salad) It could be a catered lunch, a bad workout, having PMS and wanting to eat all the cookies, looking at the number on the scale at the doctor, a bad day at work, the meeting that just did not go well, or trying on a swim suit.
It’s never predictable and always there.
Most days I can move through the thoughts and fears relatively quickly and emerge unscathed. And then I have days like Sunday where I’m just hopeless and afraid. Other times it can take a lot longer to center myself and I end up depressed for days. Sometimes I binge eat and go into a cycle of depression for failing myself. On the really bad days, I stare at the bathroom and reflect on all the horrible memories and experiences and absolute fear of going down that road again. It’s like I feel it all at once.
So when I do have days like Sunday,
When I am able to reground myself,
I am grateful for all the love and compassion I have found in my life.
And having one more day that I didn’t actually purge.
