I Can Eat a Donut and I Wish My Mother Would

I was at a recurring meeting this morning with a bunch of guys who hadn't seen me for a few months. As usual, they had donuts at the meeting. Now in the past I've always really agonized over eating a donut. Sometimes I would be able to resist, and other times I wouldn't. If I did take a donut, I wouldn't usually eat it until I was alone, in my car on my way back to my office. Bottom line, there was always a fierce internal struggle.

I've worked with all these guys for years, and they are like my brothers, so that was always part of the struggle. It meant they might comment on my eating the donut. "Do you think you should be eating that?" or "You're going to get fat!" Typical guy/brother comments, you know. Anyway, today I decided I could have a donut if I wanted one (part of my "being normal" therapy per Dr D) and I could eat it in front of people. So I ate the donut, and enjoyed the heck out of it. And one was plenty, I didn't need another.

But during a break, one of the guys said…"Eat another donut! You're wasting away!" Now, honestly, I'm not wasting away. I have lost a little weight since the last meeting, but still, I was shocked that anyone (especially a guy) would have noticed, and that he would have characterized it as my being "too" thin. After the initial shock...did I get off on that comment? Of course I did. And of course, it made me want to double down! Let's start eating less! Better yet, let's starve!

WHOA…I definitely need to be aware of these triggers. I seem to be particularly vulnerable right now for some reason. Normal is such a difficult concept. I'm still working on it, though.

I had an interesting therapy session last Thursday, and I want to tell you about it:

My mom has a snapshot on her refrigerator of her and my dad. It's her favorite picture because it was when she was her skinniest. I've often told my mom how much I hate that picture, because I think she looks really creepy. Huge head, stick-figure body. Kind of like a skeleton with skin stretched over the bones. But she insists that she looked great. The picture was taken at a family reunion when people actually asked me if my mom had cancer, that's how skinny she was.

In previous therapy sessions, I had told Dr D about the picture, but it was hard to describe. So the last time I was at Mom's house, I took a "picture of the picture" with my Blackberry (I was surprised how well it came out). So as I showed Dr D the picture, I kind of chuckled about it a little. You know, "Ha ha, how could anybody think that looked good?" But all of a sudden the chuckle turned to a big lump in my throat. When I started talking out loud about it, I kind of came unglued. It just set me off and I spent the greater portion of the session crying, and finally downright sobbing.

I was okay just looking at that picture when I was by myself, but when I showed it to Dr D, something about talking about it brought up some really strong emotions and horrible memories. It literally made me want to throw up. I just don't understand how someone can think being skin and bones looks good.

So that's at least a good sign for me…I definitely do not want to look like that, and I don't think I would ever let myself get that bad. Anyway, honestly, I'm doing fine. I working through it all. I have the support system I need (all my bloggy friends are big part of that), and it will all be okay, I know.