Numbers

tw: eating disorders

It’s like riding a bike. Once you learn how, you never forget.

I made myself lunch today and as I sat down to eat, I realized that I had been counting the calories while I was cooking. I wasn’t going out of my way to look at the numbers or to calculate it out, but I still knew the number for each spring roll as I brought them to my mouth. It was like instinct. I’ve counted my calories for so many years that I trained my subconscious to do it on its own.

And I wish I could unlearn it.

How many calories in this bite?

How many more minutes until I can stop running?

How many more miles until I pass out?

For years, I’ve been obsessed with these numbers. Making sure that I met the “requirements” I needed to look “good”, to feel “good”. I engrained them into my mind now and now no matter how hard I try to step away from the constant critiquing, it always sneaks its way back into my life. It doesn’t matter how much I want to get better, how much I want to be okay, how much I want to be healthy, I still fall right before I reach a healthy relationship with food.

But this time I actually believe I can do it, I can get better. I’m not just telling myself that I’ll be okay over and over again so I’ll believe it. I know I’ll be okay. I realize that it’s not so much a matter of unlearning it but instead learning a new way to combat it.

And I think I’ll reach it this time.

Maybe

TW: eating disorders

Every time I think about my eating disorder, I always focus on the amount of time I spend on it. The time spent on counting calories, measuring out portions, thinking about the next meal. It makes me wonder about who I would be if I had spent that time doing something different. Something worth it.

Maybe if I wasn't so focused on food then I would be a better student. All of those long days at school on an empty stomach were spent doodling on paper and daydreaming. Not because I wasn’t interested In the agenda for the day, but because I couldn't see straight when I looked at the board. My thoughts were loud, making sure I remembered I wasn’t allowed to eat yet, instead of the notes I was writing. Maybe if I didn’t think about how I looked sitting at a desk all day I would know calculus and be able to multiply at the drop of a hat. Maybe if I had eaten my meals more regularly I would remember what we talked about in world history. Maybe if I wasn’t worried about my esophaguses rupturing I would’ve paid better attention in Spanish class and would understand subjunctives. I can only imagine the student that I could’ve been if I just payed a little more attention.

Maybe if I wasn’t so focused on food then I would be a better friend. My heart drops every time I decline an invitation to a party or a sleepover because I know that I should go, but then they would smell the bile on my breath. I don’t want to have to say no again because I binged so badly that my chest became heavy and my stomach started to hurt. Maybe if I allowed myself to nourish my body I wouldn't push away my friends. Maybe if I didn’t punish myself for every little decision I made I would be able to enjoy the company of others. Maybe if I loved myself a little more, I wouldn’t be so jealous of the people I surround myself with. I can’t wait for the day that I stop comparing myself to the people I love the most.

Maybe if I wasn’t so focused on food then I would be a better daughter. I can recall most of the times where I’ve lashed out on my parents when they’ve said something or gave me something just because I was nutrient deprived. Seeing the pain in their eyes when I start to cry cause I ate more than I wanted to makes my heart break. Maybe if I didn't need to weigh out everything I ate I would be able to enjoy family dinners. Maybe if I just ate a sufficient amount of food I wouldn't get frustrated at the sound my mom’s voice. Maybe if I just accepted that I am perfectly fine as I am, my parents wouldn’t talk about how much my pain hurts them behind my back. I don't want to continue to drag my parents down with me anymore.

My mind floods with hypothetical situations daily. Constantly pondering what could’ve been. Fun fact, it doesn’t help to focus on the what ifs. I’ve wasted so much time on wondering who I would be if I was okay with myself, instead of actually working to make myself okay. I want to stop wasting time and letting myself get caught up in all of the ‘maybes’, and one day I will.

Day 1

The first step is always the hardest. Especially when you’ve taken hundreds of first steps towards the same goal and the only thing that you can see ahead of you is the path right back to where you’re standing.

Out of everything, eating disorders are the hardest for me to talk about. For years I have struggled with my body image and it’s still painful to admit that. This isn’t to say that everything else is simple and easy to deal with, there is just something about eating disorders that makes my stomach turn.

So obviously my solution is to push through that discomfort in order to find a happy ending. I will be dedicating this page to eating disorder stories in hopes to spread some awareness, maybe help someone else struggling, and ultimately help me to recover.