Perfume Farts: Act Now (Dear Cookie Monster)

Perfume Farts: Act Now

Dear Whoever / ALL of you,

I have had it. This bingeing needs to stop now.

I just tried to clean my knees in the shower and almost puked everywhere because my stomach was so full.

Enough, already.

I don’t care who is responsible, including myself. I am done pointing fingers.

If it happens, it is EVERYONE’S fault.

No more “X felt sad” or “Y wanted attention.”

If X felt sad or Y wanted attention, it’s because you made it so that bingeing was the only way to take care of that. Yes, YOU.

The act of assigning the emotion or behavior to X or Y also does that.

X is not sad. YOU are sad. I am sad. WE ALL are sad.

And nervous and angry and depressed and a million other feelings.

We cannot binge whenever we feel something.

This has got to stop. We have swollen up and there just is not anymore room for the food to fit.

Seriously. This needs to end now.

If “Z” wants to binge, we can’t just say “sure, Z, go binge because I don’t want to control you.

Of course no one wants to be controlled. But no one wants to just be allowed to do whatever, either.

My dad always talks about how no one in his family cared if he went to college or not. Tat is the polar opposite of the occasionally slave-driver methods my parents employed when it came to my academics. Both feel terrible.

My dad wanted someone to care and I wanted everyone to stop caring so much.

Just letting “Z” go binge is not what she needs. She is overjoyed that we are finally stopping our ways of lashing her with a whip every time she acts out, calling her names, and telling her how everything bad in our life is her fault.

But she also doesn’t want us to just kick back and watch TV all day while she runs wild.

Yes, it’s fine to be super zen about things and observe thoughts “like passing clouds,” but action is also required for real change.

I can tell “Z” that I love her as much as I want, but if I don’t give her a hug when she’s crying, my words mean nothing. Me yelling at her for crying is just as bad, maybe even worse, than me ignoring her.

So, please. Let’s just cut this all out.

Yes, it was revolutionary to not punish bingeing. But we have to draw the line. This is getting out of hand and I’m scared. I’ve started having thoughts about drinking again, and that is one deep dark rabbit hole I DO NOT want to go back down.

If we don’t take this seriously, we will find a way to make it serious.

That’s one of the reasons we started purging when we were 16: no one takes a fat girl seriously. She’s a joke. No one feels sorry for her. She’s just disgusting and pathetic and needs more self-control. Only when she’s skinny will people actually care that she’s crying.

Today, “Z” is starting to realize that bingeing isn’t enough to get our attention anymore. Weight gain isn’t, either. We’re not listening to her as much as she deserves. We’re not taking it seriously.

The driving force behind the bingeing is the same force that led us to purge and self-harm and drink and take drugs and want to kill ourselves. It is EXTREMELY serious, even if it comes in the form of ice cream.

We cannot wait until we all love each other and our life is settled and our farts smell like perfume to decide bingeing is off the table.

We once took alcohol off the table. And purging. And self-harm. And suicide.

We can do that with bingeing, too.

It’s never going to be convenient or easy. We just need to do it and commit.

The tricky thing with bingeing is that the line between eating and bingeing is fuzzy.

It was like that thing I heard a while ago that eating for a person with an ED is like an alcoholic having to drink a glass of wine a couple times a day.

I can’t think of a metric for what constitutes a binge and what doesn’t. I’m not going to define it by the type of food because I’m done with that. All food is fine, as long as I don’t drown myself in it. Quantity is another issue. I don’t measure or count or weigh anything.

I’m just going to have to feel this thing as I go along.

That is the most horrible thing ever. I don’t like things that shape-shift and hang out in the shadows. I like bright lights and surgical precision.

But, it is what it is.

Deal with it.

And don’t forget that, above all else, I say this with love.

You are so incredible and so strong. Don’t sell yourself short.

Love,

Signature: Unknown (Dear Cookie Monster)

Whoever this is

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