The other day, I wrote a post about how some food-related things make me feel almost “normal” (whatever that means). On other days, some things are decidedly not normal.
Last night, I felt a weird, prolonged rush of anxiety that I haven’t felt in awhile. I’m not really sure what triggered it–maybe the stress of trying to sell our home, or the pile of work I need to accomplish in a short period of time. Regardless, that tightening of my chest used to send me into a bingeing/purging frenzy almost every time. I knew that the purging wasn’t an option, but somehow the whole memo didn’t make it to my brain, and I found myself having eaten 3 chocolate chip cookies, 2 slices of leftover pizza, and some random tortilla chips at the bottom of a bag. Oops.
I knew that I wouldn’t purge, but I really wanted to. My stomach felt awful–distended, churning. I drank some sparking water and tried to sit with the discomfort when I started to feel actually sick. Then, I felt that familiar tinge of bile in the back of my mouth. I got hopeful! I actually HOPED that I might be sick–I reminded myself that I had felt a little off earlier in the day, and I wished, actually WISHED that maybe I was coming down with something. Maybe I’d just get a little tummy bug that would allow me to purge without actually breaking the rules…
Nope. I didn’t get sick. And then I felt guilty about hoping I would. Sigh.