What I see –

TRIGGER WARNING:

This is a post which I have been trying to ignore for a few weeks. A topic which I find really distressing to even talk about with those whom I trust. I am partially in denial about it and I have spoken to my counsellor about it. On Thursday when I went to my weekly appointment, she asked if I wanted to continue talking about it. I didn’t want to because the week before I had cried all afternoon with utter disgust and self-loathing.

My blog has mainly talked about abuse, domestic violence and sex. This will be a bit different and yes I am stalling… I don’t really know how to write about this.

I stopped cutting at the beginning of June approximately. I was ashamed of myself when my son asked me why I had all these cuts and the kids asked me how I did it. I realised that I couldn’t do this to myself any more and had to stop. It has been really tough to just stop especially given I went cold turkey from zopiclone. It was a bit like I was torturing myself.

So, I stopped cutting and burning myself, but inside I was desperately, and still am, unhappy.

I don’t think that I did it consciously, but over the past couple of months I have lost a fair amount of weight. I haven’t been exercising, but I have not been eating much at all. The weight has been falling off me.

About 18 months ago I weighed nearly 13 stone, which for someone of my height and build is really massive. I was huge and deeply ashamed of how I looked. I refused to buy any new clothes and squeezed myself into the ones I had…but I was around a size 18 for jeans and a 20-22 for tops…I was hideous and I hated myself, but I had been comfort eating for years and I was in a vicious cycle.

Then I had my breakdown and the weight started to fall off me. I lost a stone in less than 3 weeks. A year later I am the lightest and smallest I have been in about 8 or 9 years. I have just stopped eating. When I do eat I feel guilty and will refuse to eat again, or if I do, its miniscule. 

However, when I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t see me as I am now…I only know I have lost weight because my clothes hang off me and I can fit into tops again without having to stretch them to get them over my pregnant looking tummy.  What I see when I look in the mirror is a huge, ugly, fat blob. And I despise myself. 

I told my counsellor that I wasn’t eating much and we discussed it. I am not sure where I am with regard to an eating disorder. I have come to fear meals. I haven’t eaten today because this week I have eaten a lot for me and I still have enough fat on me that I could probably survive on next to nothing for a few weeks. I do drink lots of water and loads of tea. But I have gone off things like chocolate, biscuits, cakes etc. I am not a crisp fan so don’t really eat them. But other things I just don’t want to eat.

I weigh myself everyday and if I have put on one pound, I will not eat anything. I feel ashamed of how I look. I feel disgusting…I have lost over 3 stone since I have been ill. And about a stone of that in the past couple of months. Now that my house is all tidy I plan on doing some exercise so I can tone up and lose more weight. I still feel huge. I just see fat and more fat. I hate myself. And this seems like the best way of dealing with things. 

Due to the fact that I eat a small amount, no one in my family has any idea. I eat less then my 7 year old.

When I was talking to my counsellor about it, it was because I am aware that I have begun to dread meal times. I cant finish normal size meals any more, I get full so easily. If I am hungry I will drink a ton of water first so that I can’t eat as much. I tend to drink loads of tea as well so that I am doing something at meal times. I told my counsellor this…we discussed when it had started and my past with food.

Not eating sort of coincides with giving up the zopiclone and not self harming. So she suggested that perhaps there is an element of control. When I was a young teenager I stopped eating and lost a small amount of weight, but it was worse when I was 15-17, I ate but I would make myself sick a lot. I stopped when I was pregnant with my first child because whatever I could eat I needed it and I knew that. I was also being watched like a hawk by doctors and nurses, health visitor, my mum etc…I had to eat…so I did. I didn’t put on any weight with my pregnancy and actually after she was born I gradually went from 8 and a half stone down to 7 and a half. I was very tiny…still curvy but little nonetheless.

Towards the end of my first marriage my ex told me that he was no longer attracted to me and that I was ugly. I had put on weight but I was comfort eating and drinking a lot. I had gone from a 10/12 to 14…I wasn’t exactly huge but I was not what I had been. So I took diet pills, stopped eating and exercised like it was going out of fashion. I lost the weight and dropped back down to a 12. 

At the beginning of this year my now husband told me that he was not attracted to me. This was apparently a combination of my mental health but also because I had put on so much weight. My confidence was knocked and I do feel fat and ugly. I despise the way I look, I have zero confidence and hide under baggy hoodies and t-shirts. Admittedly the weight I’ve lost means that my jeans now hang off me and my hoodies are too big…

But when I look in the mirror, I don’t see that. I still see the big fat whale staring  back at me. I detest looking at myself. I am embarrassed about how I look…I feel unattractive and wonder why anyone would think for a minute that I am anything other than ugly. Its little wonder I have no sex life. I wouldnt want to sleep with me either.

I admit, I punish myself with food. I won’t eat anything if I have upset someone. I will only eat once a day if I have to eat anything at all. 

My counsellor said she was concerned that I was heading towards having a diagnosable eating disorder. I told her most of the truth…missed out the odd thing…but I pointed out that I still eat burgers and chips, pizza and stuff if I do eat so I don’t see this as being an eating disorder. My fear of meals…that’s something that has really only just hit me how bad it is. The panic I feel inside and the dread of having to eat anything. Being told that I haven’t eaten much, being lectured about how I must eat…I just want to scream that I don’t fucking want to eat…that it’s my choice, my body and I’ll do whatever I want to it. 

I recently got my eyebrow and tongue pierced for that exact reason…ITS MY BODY. I control what happens to it…most of the time…I want to get my lip pierced and have some more tats done. I have a size and shape that I would like to be. I have a hair colour I like and a sense of dressing that once I am thinner I will be able to carry off. But right now I am too fat. I am ugly too which makes me feel like what I want is never going to be achievable. 

I am being really honest and I know that there are many others out there who feel like I do…I hide myself away because of how I see myself, the fact that even the men who are meant to have loved me thought that I was fat and ugly cements this fact. My family are all tall, lean, in proportion, goodlooking. I am not these things….What I see…a nobody. Someone who doesn’t fit in anywhere, who is unwell and therefore adds to being unattractive. What I see…I hate

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3 thoughts on “What I see –

  1. I understand. I feel the same way about myself. The only difference being, I am still comfort eating. I wish I had a solution for you. Be careful and take care of yourself. Sending big hugs x

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    • I have so much going on in my head that I can’t control this seems to be something which I do subconsciously and when i do eat I feel guilty, like Ive let myself down. I am really unhappy and feel like everything is spiralling down. I honestly no longer have any idea what I am doing. Thank you for sharing how you feel, it is comforting to know I am not alone. sending you love and hugs xxx

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  2. When I was in college I really dropped weight because I wasn’t eating. It was so bad that I was surviving, most days, off a tiny cup of oatmeal mixed with coffee. I mixed it that way, because it was quick and easy to down that and get out the door. What I didn’t know is that I had bipolar disorder and I was going through a manic episode. I thought I was just going through a spiritual phase in my life where I didn’t need food because I was always so full of energy. In the end, I was hospitalized with some undiagnosed illness because one day, I woke up, and couldn’t walk. It was like my body decided that it couldn’t function anymore. I couldn’t stand up, or walk, without stumbling like a drunk person all over the place, and I didn’t drink back then at all. It was so embarrassing.

    The rumors that spread about me in college. The looks I got even when I finally came back and still had to walk with a cane. The shaking hands, and motor control problems, that I swear have never entirely gone away even years later.

    This is something you want to take very seriously. You know, people think bipolar disorder, or schizophrenia, are the deadliest mental illnesses. They aren’t. It’s anorexia kills more people than any other.

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