More than Bones

TW- eating disorder(s)

A few days ago I promised to be honest to myself, to write for myself, not caring who sees and who doesn’t see. And with that allowing vulnerability to flow through my words, expressing my true, raw human emotion and fears.

As I put on one of my favorite dresses that I wear as often as I can without repeating outfits.  It’s a low back with a zipper, and I reach over my back to try to zip it all the way, and for the first time it wouldn’t close. There must be a mistake. I take off the dress, to see, it has to be caught on something. But once it’s off my body it slides perfectly tight, nothing in the way of it’s path. So, I try it one more time, and again the same result; it will not close.

This is not the first article of clothing I’ve experienced an awkward of encounter of them telling me “We’re just not meant for each other anymore.” It’s the one sided breakup, and I’m never ready to let go.

I go through the stages of denial, telling myself it must have shrunk, it’s the bra that I’m wearing, trying to hold on my clothes, we’re not through yet, I still have so many different outfits to create and memories  to fulfill.

The green lace dress I adore has officially joined the long list of clothes that have just given up on me.

With my hair still wet and my dress not zipped up all the way, I finally say

I have an eating disorder.

My body doesn’t appear to others as the kind that would go through any sort of struggle, but as I’ve learned that all bodies come in different forms that are all completely valid, so are mental illnesses.

Sometimes when I’m browsing through social media I’ll find yet another clickbate buzzfeed article usually entitled “27 things you do if you’re always thinking about food.” Everyone reposts the article saying how incredibly relateble when I know they probably don’t have any idea how exceedingly triggering to see people joke about how much they eat. I don’t get mad, I understand; they just don’t know.

I am a binge eater

Every time I eat even the slightest amount of food I’m left feeling guilty for not throwing any of it up. As a reaction I’ll end up starving myself for days. When I get up in the morning I’ll perhaps have a strawberry, just one or two to relax my stomach that’s clearly screaming for food. So the rest of the day goes on and I’ll watch as others bring their lunch to work while I sit in the corner hoping that no one notices I didn’t bring anything. And after a few days have gone by I usually end up eating a whole days worth of meals within a short time. Eating a whole pizza, ordering the extra large plate of wings, and getting ice cream as big as my head, these are all options that I will eat within a mere couple of hours. I eat the buzzfeed amounts of food as a reward to myself. Each time I think I’m going to be proud of all the times I didn’t eat, yet I’ll eat that one meal and still regret having eaten anything at all, especially in the large quantities that I do. That’s the thing, I’m afraid to start eating, because once I don’t know how to stop myself.

I don’t feel like there’s an answer. Workout? Okay Eat healthy? Yeah I get that, but I want to stop hating food, I want to stop hating myself for eating food, I want to not be tempted to starve myself.  I preach so much self love and say that I’ve never had any issues with my body. But in the past year I’ve learned that entirely not true. I cover my thighs and my arms when I can, I edit them in photos, I often want to cry when I go out with friends and I eat too much. I know there are so many alternatives, but the only one that makes sense to me is to hate food, and hate myself for eating it.

My name is Jaymeann and I have an eating disorder