I had what I would describe as a near-binge last night. I had a bad day at work. One of those days where you’re running around all over the place and yet somehow have gotten nothing done at the end of the day. It was 6:30pm, I was exhausted, grumpy, still not alone in my office, and very, very hungry. It had been a long time since lunch and I had been ignoring the signals for a while.
I ordered pizza. I ordered pizza in the way that a person preparing for a binge orders pizza. This is a big problem for me these days–I don’t know how to order/obtain food in moderate amounts, as I discussed in my post a couple of days ago. I ordered a large pizza with meat on it, chicken nuggets, and a chocolate chip cookie pizza too. It took forever to arrive, so by the time I was eating I was famished. At least I was finally alone in my office.
I started with the chicken nuggets. I ate all of them, telling myself that they would not keep well so I had to finish them. I was still hungry when I was eating them, but I didn’t need to eat them all. They didn’t even taste that great. That didn’t stop me.
Then I went to the pizza. I ate a slice. I was starting to feel full. I started on a second slice. I was losing steam. Somehow, though, I needed to finish that second slice. I stopped after that, but I still went for “dessert.” I ate two slices of cookie pizza. I sort of planned in my head to stop there but I didn’t. I ate two more. I stopped.
In sum, I didn’t eat as much as I might have a year ago. Half a pizza plus the nuggets plus most or all of the cookie thing would have been my norm. And I stopped before I was hopelessly sick. But it was still troubling, and caused by a sequence of things I am working to avoid, like getting starving, ignoring self-care during the work day, and getting so ragged that the only thing I have left in my toolbox for self-soothing is my eating disorder.
I spent another hour or so at work after that, resting and recovering from the day, calming down. When I finally went home, as I walked to my car, I had a weird experience. I was full, very full, and I didn’t like it.
I say “weird experience” because I like feeling full. I’ve always liked feeling full. It’s why bingeing is so calming for me. Full is satisfied, full is safe, full is calm. Several times recently, people in the ED recovery-BoPo realm have said to me that they “don’t like feeling full.” I was struck by that because I couldn’t imagine how that was. How could feeling full not be a state of rest and ease?
And yet, last night, as I finally made my way home, possibly for the first time ever (even including the many times I have made myself so sick that I have needed to purge or have actually been sick sick), I was conscious of not liking the feeling of fullness. And although I was too full, I wasn’t sick full, so it wasn’t that. I just didn’t like feeling full.
Stay tuned, I’m interested to see how this turns out.