I’m watching, and loving, ‘The Sopranos’.
One of my ‘issues’ in life is calorie counting and keeping tabs on my daily protein intake.
I keep myself on a tight food rein and what they seem to do most in ‘The Sopranos’, more than killing people and going behind their wives’ backs, is eat – eat, eat, eat, and it does my head in! I really need to sort this ‘eating disorder’ out! But is it an eating disorder?
5 years! I say it’s about control, me being in control, but I know that that’s a nonsense, that I’m not in control, that I’m BEING controlled, controlled BY this obsession with weight and food. Get help? I should want to be ‘cured’, I do, in some ways, want to be ‘cured’, but, really, when it comes down to doing something about it, I don’t. I “can’t” let go!
I don’t know if it is:
an eating disorder,
‘just’ a symptom of my OCD (officially diagnosed OCD),
a manifestation of my compulsive personality?
It’s so unnecessary, this calorie-counting nonsense, particularly in view of the fact that I run 30-45km per week, sometimes more!
5 years, not a sweet, not a crumb of cake, not even half a biscuit/cookie, not one alcoholic drink… “AGGHHHH!!!!”
It’s ironic – I tell everyone that ‘moderation’ is so important, that living a life of moderation is part of the recipe for a life of joy, but I “can’t” do it! I know that it’s irrational but I’m convinced that if I let go, all the weight that I lost, 28km/62lbs, will go back on and I’ll feel like more of a failure than I already do. That thought, feeling like more of a failure than I already do, the terror, the fear, that keeps me hungry!
My days, every day, it’s all about food, calorie counting, protein counting, when am I eating next, eating what, pacing the eating… For me, food is fuel, that’s all, fuel.
I could be dead tomorrow and I’m torturing myself: why?!
I ask myself “why?” but I don’t really; I know enough about myself, what makes me tick, what’s going on in my head, I know enough about my mindset, my state of mind, my mental illness(es), clinical depression, anxiety, panic attacks, OCD, my insecurities, my absence of self-concept, I know enough about it all to know that the answer to “why?” is quite simply: I am mentally ill and there is no shame in it.
Asthmatics aren’t ashamed of their condition, I shouldn’t be ashamed of my condition(s).
People with congenital heart disease aren’t ashamed of their condition, neither should I be ashamed of my clinical depression.
People with epilepsy aren’t ashamed of their condition (or, if they are, they shouldn’t be), I’m not ashamed of my mental illnesses.
Whether this eating malarkey is a stand-alone ‘eating disorder’ or is a symptom of my OCD and/or my obsessive personality, it’s not something that I can knock on the head without more professional help. I believe that it’s a clinical condition.
Anyway, there it is: a stand-alone eating disorder or a symptom, a manifestation, of my OCD and/or obsessive personality?