But I've been still thinking about more stuff related to my other entries about this subject, and I figure...whatever, I could write about it. Because I should be writing about things. It is part of my healing process and whatnot and is a way for me to get thoughts out and all.
I've been thinking about my eating problems and how his reaction to that further highlights how selfish he is.
My problems with food did not start until after he and I broke up, but for someone who claimed to care about me so much, he didn't seem to care or notice. The only time he ever brought up my food problems was when we were eating lunch together at homecoming, and I remember he asked why I don't eat so much. But I remember the tone in which he asked that question. (He probably doesn't remember, but I pretty much remember most about that day, since it was the last time I saw him in person and was the last time we really really spoke.)
He didn't ask because he was concerned. At least, that is not the way he asked.
He asked with a disgusted tone. With an implication behind it. That perhaps I was doing that on purpose. For attention.
And yes, perhaps I'm reading too much into that tone, but I remember it hitting me in a really gross way.
He probably did not want to think that my eating habits were an extension of things that he did to me. That because of things he said and what he did throughout the months caused my nerves to act up so much that I couldn't eat without feeling physically ill. That I would wake up with a stomachache so much that it became normal. It became a normal thing. I constantly felt sick. So much so that I avoided food because I knew it would make me feel worse. I couldn't eat.
In a year, I went from being my heaviest weight, to my lightest. I'm now underweight, and I still have a ton of issues with food and eating. Eating so little has become normal. It is difficult for me to eat like a normal person now, because that is just how things have become. I need to see a nutritionist and my therapist always asks me how the eating is going, and she needs to remind me that it is not a punishment mechanism, like I have been using it as.
Maybe I am not being fair when I pin all my eating issues on him. Certainly, his actions are a reason behind them, but not the whole reason. Part of it also has to do with my own self-hatred and self-worthlessness. Eventually, food became a way to reward or punish myself. And perhaps this was subconscious, because I really didn't start thinking that I did this until after it was pointed out to me. But I would not eat on days I felt particularly worthless and days where I felt like I just wanted to waste away to nothing. When he and I were still talking, these days would happen when he made me feel particularly horrible about my feelings, and they continued after we ceased communication on days I found out about his lies. Every new lie I discovered meant less food I would eat, because I was so angry with myself for believing anything that he said. I punished myself for something that he did. When I found out about his new romantic interests, those were days that I ate nothing, because I felt like a worthless piece of trash that was thrown away and forgotten so easily. He told me originally how hard it would be for him to date again for a long time, and while that was somewhat comforting when the breakup initially occurred, I realize it was another lie simply said to appease me. The fact that he has been serious with two people since me hurt. It still does. Especially since I cannot do the same thing.
That hurt makes me not eat still.
And it is a combination of that and habit now, but that is still a big part of it.
But it was upsetting for me to think that he didn't actually care about my issues with this. That he thought I was doing it for attention or something.
Then again, I don't think he really cared about any of my issues, either before or after he dumped me. Especially after.
And the idea of him not caring made things worse.
And now I sometimes like that I am this small. I like that I can easily feel my ribs and my hipbones and the bones in my shoulders and everything. I like it because - like I've said in various other entries - it is as though I am wasting away to nothing. And I like that, because that is what I feel like I am most of the time.
But I know I shouldn't like it. I know I shouldn't and I know that by eating as little as I do and as unhealthily as I do I am slowly killing myself, basically. But I just can't fix it some days. I really can't. I'm trying, I really am. I really am trying.
I don't know. Sometimes I feel as though my efforts are futile. Even though I'm reminded about the progress I've made and everything. Sometimes it doesn't feel like it as been nearly enough, and that thought sucks.
My stomach hurts a lot more at the end of this than it did in the beginning. Fantastic. (Though I will also blame that on stomach virus thing that I have, and not just on upset feels.)
No comments:
Post a Comment