It’s scary how much my body reacts when I eat certain fear foods. I recently started to allow myself to have chips again, of course this was followed by a lot of rules of under what circumstances I could allow myself this item of food I’ve branded as a luxury.
I take the first bite and my body immediately releases tension, as though I have been holding my breath all day up until this meal and now I’m exhaling. I feel my body relax, almost sinking into the food like a vulture over prey. My eyes grow heavy and I want to close them, like a child smiling so much their eyes squint shut, their little cheeks forcing them closed due to their enormous grin.
I finish my meal and that’s when the guilt sinks in- how could I have enjoyed that? I thought my anorexic brain had trained myself to find these foods repulsive and there I was savouring it like the last supper. I realise how long I spent eating that meal, and so many others before, wishing it to last forever because I know I won't allow myself some of those foods for a while. Or until I deserve it again.
And thats when the "reassuring" thoughts creep in: it's ok that you ate that now, we'll just restrict tomorrow. I start planning how I can reduce my food intake the next day, without looking too obvious to everyone else, so as to appease the demons that are slowly starting to rise up in the back of my mind. One less slice of toast at breakfast, a smaller portion for lunch, no carbohydrates, only an apple for pudding after dinner. And the whole time keeping quiet. Keeping quiet and distracting everyone else to stop them from sussing out the plan that I have conjured up with my inner demon.
So, on the outside it seems as though I am recovering. Subtle glances my way, hiding smiles because the believe I have had a fear food. Maybe I am finally emerging from the darkness. But deep down I know I have developed a system of reward, evaluating what I have done in the day to deserve some foods and if not saving it for a more intense and excruciating day. I tell myself maybe this is a step in recovery, or is that the inner demon convincing me of that?
In cartoons we often see the main characters shoulders saddled by their inner devil and angel, whispering their side of the argument into our protagonists ear. In these moments I feel like that, but my rational side is the angel and anorexia is my demon, only growing stronger because I love the sweet taste of its lies.
I don't write this to shame anyone or start a competition, but to release the inner monologue I have with myself around meals and food. I hope others can relate to this experience and sympathise or offer advice. To those who can't; I hope that this reveals the inner battle I have with myself multiple times a day. The planning that goes on in my head the moment that I wake up until the minute my breathing becomes slow and deep at the end of the day.
I want to be honest with myself and to anyone reading this blog. These posts are the arguments that rage inside my head and I hope writing them here will help me to reason with them.