Why is it when I am manic I hate food? I mean I usually hate food anyway, but not enough to not eat. Right now I am trying to gag down a Atkins protein bar because I am supposed to eat a steady stream of protein throughout the day to encourage my brain to make dopamine and serotonin naturally that way I’m not as tempted to create it myself through risky behaviors.
The feeling of food in my mouth just gags me. The feeling it leaves on my teeth… I’m down to 128 lbs this morning. The happiness I felt from seeing that number was euphoric. The flatness of my stomach makes me smile. I’m drinking more water than anything, unless I’m hungry then it’s milk or coffee or hot tea. Something that slides down easy; doesn’t require chewing or tasting.
I caught myself saying how I could stand to lose ten more pounds and be happy this morning. My boss pointed out that I wouldn’t look good and my immediate reply was, “that’s not the point”. And honestly it isn’t. It’s so much more than looks. It’s about control. Self control. Image control. Mental control. I don’t starve because I want to look good; I starve because I can control it. Myself. What I see looking back at me in the mirror each morning and evening.
My pants are falling off and I can do a thigh gap check without maybe a half inch left between my fingers, yet all I feel is the tightness of my jeans around my legs and hips. All I see is a pooch in my belly and a double chin forming in the mirror. The flab of my arms widening.
Logically, I know these are distortions, but I don’t give a crap about logic right now. What has it ever done for me? How has logic ever made me feel better? Helped me overcome my pain? Nope. At this point can’t really recall a time. Not eating? Yes. Regaining control of what goes in my mouth? Yes.