Purge

I'm doing the dishes and thinking a lot about barfing.

"No," my brain corrects me. "Not barfing. It's purging all that awful stuff you just put into you body."

That "awful stuff" includes some leftover mac and cheese and a piece of fried fish from last night's birthday dinner. I also ate a slice of leftover birthday cake and had a glass of wine.

It's disgusting. I'm disgusting.

I can't stop thinking about how good it would feel to get it all out of my body, quickrightthismoment before it gets digested.

I'm fantasizing about it as I write this.

* * *

I spent most of my late 20s blaming my upbringing for my OCD and this never-ending goddamn food fight. With some therapy and a lot of grace, I've managed to understand that genetics and really fucking bad luck are at least as important. And even if nurture has more credit then I'm giving it, how much can I actually blame my folks? They gave me a pretty good childhood. I can understand their own trauma and struggles with anxiety (even if they've never called it that). 

I still spend a lot of time trying to hack my own brain

Tonight I remind myself of All-or-Nothing thinking, and that body dysmorphia lies. I identify other cognitive dissonances. I talk to friends. I do small things that make me happy. I practice self-care as best as I can (tonight that involves a lot of petting my cats). 

I do okay. Better than some nights. Worse than others.

I still think about purging.

* * *

Once, a friend told me a story about how thin her sister got while she had a nasty cocaine habit. Later, I spent hours trying to figure out if I know someone who could hook me up. 

I know. 

What I don't know is if I'll ever get to place in recovery where I don't obsessively think about what I've consumed or the amount of exercise that I've done. The prospect of being able to recognize a cleanse or clean eating fad as immediately dangerous to my mental health seems impossible. The act of eating a piece of cake without crying about it later is so enormous it overwhelms me.

For now all I can do is accept the space that medication and therapy have given me to pause and consider the damage purging will do to my teeth and throat, recognize that getting dizzy from not eating isn't something to be proud of, and that, you know, picking up a coke habit to lose weight probably isn't a good idea.