After the way that I felt all day today, I am starting to think I need someone to literally take my hand and walk me to help.

The way I think during the day when I have not been eating is something like this: You are so strong. You can do this! You can do anything. All the while I am starving and fighting against everything that is rational. This is some sort of twisted motivation that actually works for me in many areas of my life, especially when I am alone and don’t have to deal with any consequences of being so drained and exhausted by the time I get home to do anything–including carrying on an adult conversation. I am high and tired all at the same time.

I only ran 15 miles last week, and out of terror and curiosity, I stepped on the scale on Sunday. I was not happy. At all.

And then I had an immobilizing thought that no one cares except for me. No one cares how much I weigh. Really, why would they? But I used this thought to validate my next actions. Which were, to eat as little as possible. No one cares about you because you weigh so much. Today I was on the phone and all I wanted to talk about was this, but no words would come out. None at all. Part of the reason is because I was so hungry and that makes the emotional part of me silent. I cannot easily put words together when I need food that badly.

In a last ditch effort to tell someone how my day was really going, I told the husband how it has been really difficult to make dinner. And buy groceries. I heard a sliver of worry in his voice, but he didn’t know what to say. It’s fine. I don’t need to talk about it.

It’s so difficult to comprehend; that is, being a size in which you are really not and asking someone to understand that.

I am so aware of this inevitable incomprehension that it makes talking about it impossible.

I have this absolutely terrible habit of looking down at my thighs every time I move. Every time I stand up, begin walking, being exercising, shift positions in a chair, while standing, basically all the time–I look down and make sure that I am still too fat.  I do it more often when I’m stressed. So, I have been doing this every free minute of the day. If I’m not working, I’m vainly checking myself out and making sure it’s still unsatisfactory. It’s like my brain, once it is so high functioning, can’t calm down and I have to keep thinking all the time and in order to maintain productivity, I shift my focus to the easiest, most readily accessible object: my body.

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