So I went for nearly two full weeks without bingeing. TWO WEEKS.
And I gained 3 pounds. (I was 102 pounds as of last Thursday morning.)
Then beginning last Thursday, I started eating way too much. It escalated to last night (Sunday), in which I ate way too much Chinese food, felt sickish, and then b/p'ed a Baskin Robbins milk shake (and whatever Chinese food was left in my tum by then). The weekend ended in the same exact pattern most of my weekends have ended for the past several years--after eating way too much, I mentally declare that I SHAN'T EAT AGAIN FOR THREE DAYS; and then Monday begins a starve-a-thon wherein I try not to consume more than 200 liquid calories per day.
(I'm on 70 calories so far today.)
This can go on for up to five days. (I've never managed to drag it out longer than that.) The first day is usually torturous, because my body is like wtf, gimme some darn FOOD like you've been doing the last 3 days; but then by day three I am Happy again. I'm molesting my ribs, and I might be able to molest my hip bones, too, when I'm lying down. By Friday, when I'm brave enough to get back on the scale, my weight is back down to 98/99 pounds. The Safe Zone.
In this way, I have maintained the same weight for like 2 years. There have been a few breaks in the pattern--like last autumn/winter I managed to get down to 96, and then over Christmas skyrocketed back up to 108 (I did the same thing the Christmas before). But for the most part, it's me not eating anything all week, stuffing my face on the weekend, and maintaining the same weight.
This is retarded.
But my metabolism is clearly so effed up that if I eat what I would consider Safe for a non post-binge week (~400-800 calories a day), I'm not going to lose weight. Apparently I'm going to gain weight if I manage to not binge and keep my intake in that range for 7+ days. During my attempts at recovery, when I was eating up to 1500 calories a day, I only ever maintained or gained. And I'm still over-exercising during all this. (That's a completely different beast than the eating disorder. We try to tackle one thing at a time.....)
So what can I conclude from all this? I have f**ked my body up beyond repair. And apparently, unless I stop eating altogether, I will never be as thin as I fantasize. The best I can hope for is maintaining my safe-weight range (98-100 lbs).
Imagine for a moment that all you want in life is a flying pony that sparkles, that you can ride to work/school/whatever.
(Because seriously, who DOESN'T want a flying pony that sparkles?)
And you're told by GOD hisself that if you say your prayers every night, eat only foods that have been blessed by a priest,
go for a daily meditative walk, and get 100% on your test, YOU WILL GET A FLYING PONY THAT SPARKLES.
So you spend the next 100 years (you're immortal, for purposes of this hypothetical situation) saying your prayers, eating nothing but water and Communion bread, taking your daily meditative walk, and studying really effing hard for that test. And you get 100% on that test.
So you go approach God and say where's my flying pony that sparkles. And God is like oh...
Nope. Sorry. You don't get a pony. Because I don't feel like giving you one.
Now keep in mind that God is all-powerful and all-knowing. If you get angry with God over this, or threaten God with your becoming an atheist, or anything of that sort, God will give you the Smiting of a lifetime. And send you to Hell. Forever. You have absolutely no choice whatsoever except to continue being a good Catholic. Even though you know God hates you. And you hate God.
And guess what else? God's gotten kind of fond of you praying every night, eating only Communion bread, taking meditative walks, and studying long and hard. God doesn't really want you to stop. There are no more promises of flying sparkling ponies. You just have to keep working hard now because if you DON'T, God will Smite you.
Suck on that.
...Yeah I tried to come up with some kind of vague hypothetical scenario to which everyone can relate and I think I failed. But you get my point.
We do all these awful things to ourselves--to our bodies and minds--and for what? A fecked metabolism and a whole lot of Crazy, so we can look like chemo patients when we're done.
Starving doesn't even relieve the anxiety like it used to to. But at this point, the anxiety is WORSE if I don't starve, if I just go back to regular old restricting.
It's a load of bollocks.
Oh well. I'm trying to catch up on all your blogs, but it's tough with no internet at home. Irene's epic-ness was apparently only epic enough to leave Bergen County without power/cable/phones/internet/or any combination of the above, and some flooding. Driving to work without working traffic lights and no policemen to guide the retards was so totally fun.