I don’t know why I torture myself this much

I remember one night, when I was supposedly weight restored from my anorexia and on the way to recovery, and I tried to tell my Mum that I was eating too much now. I was so conflicted between hiding my new found bulimic behaviour, and being honest and cryng out for help, that my sobbing and anger that night seemed like nothing more than an anorexic struggling to accept what a normal quantity is.

During that conversation with my Mother I expressed my horrendous guilt about feeling fat and wanting to lose weight again or die. She responded with the most upsetting thing I have ever heard:

I just don’t get it. You needed to eat more, and now you just want to lose weight again. If being thin matters so much to you, why the hell are you sitting here telling me you can’t stop eating? It makes no sense. Why do you torture yourself?

I wanted to scream. Of course being thin was the only important thing! My anorexic brain was shouting at me like there was no tomorrow, but the bulimia was fighting back. Starve all day, binge and compensate all night. It made me wish I was dead on several occasions, especially as what my Mother said made me feel even more alone and misunderstood than ever.

A year has passed and I am still fully entrenched in my disorder- predominantly restricting. Today has been one of the sporadic binges, which are usually brought on by having been so deprived of calories and my emotional state. My anorexia tells me that I am a failure for allowing bulimia to even get a look in on my day. I cannot allow myself to go to sleep until I have walked around for 8 hours… I have done 3 and a half so far.

This is all just torture, but there is no other way. I won’t be able to sleep if I lie there knowing I haven’t done what I’m supposed to, and if I’m going to be awake then I may as well do something useful with the time.