unexpected triggering
Apr. 28th, 2007 11:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brightlotusmoonI was reading about Lunapanties, which are panties worn in place of disposable pantyliners. I looked at the size chart, and as usual I expected to be a Small or Extra Small. According to their particular size chart, I would have to buy a Medium.
It was such a powerful, intense trigger that I closed the browser immediately, shoved the thought from my mind (naturally it kept coming back) and covered my abdomen with my hands and rocked back and forth for a few minutes. I felt the hard, flat muscles of my upper abs constricting against my palms as I breathed. I felt the soft female padding on my lower abs give and move when I pressed my fingers into it. I felt my backside pressing against the chair, my butt which felt too soft, too round, too big. And all I could think, all I wanted, was "I need to be thin again, I need to be thin again, I don't want to be a medium size in panties" and I thought it over and over because I could not stop it
And yet I knew, I knew, I knew that I was still thin, because the doctor said so and that damn useless BMI calculator said so and everyone said so.
And that is the problem with this kind of sickness. It's not my fault, and I will say it loud to the faces of those who call anorexics "stupid" and "attention whores" and who believe that a vicious eating disorder is entirely the fault of the sufferer. This is real. This isn't a cry for attention. I would have never let this happen if I could have stopped it.
I wish I didn't think these thoughts. I wish it didn't matter. I wish right now that I could go into my kitchen and make myself breakfast and know that my throat won't try to close up when I swallow more than a few bites.
Recovering and recovered are two different creatures.
Fuck.
I'll be calling the therapist soon to talk.
Fuck.
It was such a powerful, intense trigger that I closed the browser immediately, shoved the thought from my mind (naturally it kept coming back) and covered my abdomen with my hands and rocked back and forth for a few minutes. I felt the hard, flat muscles of my upper abs constricting against my palms as I breathed. I felt the soft female padding on my lower abs give and move when I pressed my fingers into it. I felt my backside pressing against the chair, my butt which felt too soft, too round, too big. And all I could think, all I wanted, was "I need to be thin again, I need to be thin again, I don't want to be a medium size in panties" and I thought it over and over because I could not stop it
And yet I knew, I knew, I knew that I was still thin, because the doctor said so and that damn useless BMI calculator said so and everyone said so.
And that is the problem with this kind of sickness. It's not my fault, and I will say it loud to the faces of those who call anorexics "stupid" and "attention whores" and who believe that a vicious eating disorder is entirely the fault of the sufferer. This is real. This isn't a cry for attention. I would have never let this happen if I could have stopped it.
I wish I didn't think these thoughts. I wish it didn't matter. I wish right now that I could go into my kitchen and make myself breakfast and know that my throat won't try to close up when I swallow more than a few bites.
Recovering and recovered are two different creatures.
Fuck.
I'll be calling the therapist soon to talk.
Fuck.
