Escape

Today I could hardly get out of bed. I'd set my alarm for 6:30 so I could practice getting up for work, and I finally got up at 9:30 with a fight.

Oh no, another day, I thought. Only two more mornings before it's the real thing. How can I do it? I can't. I just can't.

Then the memory of last night's binge resurfaced. Five nectarines, two or three apples, and about half a cup of raw almonds, just after eating a large salad at a restaurant.

Shoot. Yesterday was a gain-weight day. Better make this one a lose-weight day.

But after meeting up with a friend for a few hours, I ate half a block of Parmesan cheese after my spinach salad and spaghetti sauce.

What is it that makes me binge? Why do I turn to food to cope with the unknowns of life? I wish I wouldn't.

I suppose that for me, binging is like hand-washing for those who struggle with OCD. The repetitive motions of hand-to-mouth and chewing provide subtle comfort in the face of loneliness and uncertainty. The pleasure of tasting something sweet numbs the pain of desperation, and for a very few brief moments, I have purpose. Purpose to make myself feel better, to forget whatever troubles me. To ransack my fridge and titillate my tastebuds. To eat all of what I enjoy, anything that distracts me from reality.

Calories matter not when I'm in such a state. Keeping my figure means nothing. All that matters is to feel less, to focus on one thing instead of the many worries and emotions that barrage my mind and heart. Sometimes I'm even tempted with junk food - ice cream, cookies, candy, pizza, hamburgers. I felt the urge to go to the grocery store last night, but thankfully I didn't. I was already in bed, I think, and it would have been too much trouble to go out on a food rampage.

Today, after my cheese binge, I promised my friend I'll text her when next I feel tempted to overeat and when the suicidal thoughts descend on me like a thick, gray cloud as they did last night. As I lay in bed I imagined what I'd do to myself and dreamed of how wonderful it would be if I weren't around, if I could be freed from having to be me. I know I'm loved by people, but the desire not to struggle anymore is almost too much these days. I don't want to try. I don't want to live. I just want to escape.