How do you know when to say when? How do you start to admit to yourself, to others, that you have a problem?
I’m starting to think that my perfectionist tendencies, my obsessive-compulsive personality, is becoming more than just an issue. I know it looks like I brush people off when they express concern that I’m going to take my weight loss too far, that I’m completely absorbed in this and they’re worried it’s become a problem. But trust me when I say not a single person is expressing a concern I haven’t already had.
I’ve always said that I could never turn into one of those girls with an eating disorder. Throwing up disgusts me, and I like food way too much to ever starve myself. The more weight I lose, though, and the more the calorie counting and exercising has become a part of my daily life, the more I think that maybe I was wrong.
It’s scary to think about. And maybe you can’t have an eating disorder if you can admit t0 yourself that there’s a problem. Every example out there is of girls who deny, deny, deny until they’re finally forced into help or they die. So maybe I don’t really have a problem.
But I think I do. Or at least I have the start of a problem.
I think about food all the time. What I eat, what I don’t eat, what I should or shouldn’t eat. I track my calories intensely. I guilt myself into exercising. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy exercising. It makes me feel good. But when I don’t do it, don’t feel well enough to do it, don’t have the time because I’ve taken a sub job on the other side of town, it suddenly turns into this battle in my head. I have to go; if I don’t, I better find some way to make up for it; I need to make sure I don’t eat too much if I’m not going to go work out.
I feel like this is just the beginning. I’m almost embarrassed to admit how crazy I am about this weight loss thing. Like people are going to judge me, or it’s going to take away from what I’ve done until this point.
I hate that this is what this blog has turned into. Then again, maybe the root of all my problems is this dissatisfaction with myself, my physical self. Or that’s some manifestation of some deeper issues. I’m not really sure. I asked the Fiancé to look into counseling through our insurance. It really helped when I quit my job to sit down and talk to someone about what was going on in my head. I think that’s what I need again. Someone to just listen to my ramblings, break down what I’m saying, and help me get to the root of my issues. I think I need help. Things are on their way to bad now, and with the tendencies of my personality, I can so easily see things spiraling out of control.
Maybe admitting I’m scared is the first step. Maybe that’s my signal that it’s time to say when.