The National Women’s Study reported a lifetime prevalence of PTSD in 36.9% of women with bulimia nervosa (BN), in 21.0% of women with binge eating disorder (BED), and 11.8% in women with no eating disorder (1). The prevalence of PTSD in clinical samples of individuals with anorexia nervosa (AN) has been estimated at 10% (5) and 47% (4). Furthermore, some studies have found that traumatic events are more commonly associated with BN and AN binge-purge type than with AN restricting type (6, 7). Typically, the lifetime prevalence of PTSD is lower in individuals with eating disorders ascertained from the community than those ascertained in inpatient treatment facilities. (Source)
I skipped my class this morning due to how nauseous i was. I tried to console a friend which backfired, trying to find comfort in a close friend which also just completely backfired. So i ended up nauseous and emotional in my bed, sobbing in a burrito of Hello Kitty blankets, watching Netflix. I think i did my fair share of feeling for the day, and especially after the nightmares i had last night which were incredibly vivid. They were depicting the things i’d decided to open up to my therapy group about – trips of being dragged to the hospital….except brains being brains and being so lovely, DMT had to come along and it some distorted illogical twists. Anyways.
I think one – of the many – reasons i’ve had a hard time letting go of my eating disorder is just the simple fact that it’s provided me with so many feelings of safety and security. Albeit those feelings came about in the most illogical of ways, but they came about through series of events, which i only recently came to realize are deeply rooted in my upbringing; up until recently i saw my childhood as a minute factor.
I think my experiences growing up were about 75% of what caused my eating disorder – set the stage per say. At the time however, there were a number of things spiraling out of control for me.
For a very long time, i found solace and comfort in religion – knowing that there was a higher deity taking care of me was comforting. It helped me to get along, and at that point in my life with little to no support, perhaps that was exactly what i needed, However, eventually the church’s beliefs became too much.
I’ve written in passing about having negative experiences sexually – i logically know from training that they’re sexual assaults but like my other experiences with abuse hate calling them such. After experiencing such, i felt this odd disconnection from my body – i remember my experiences becoming rather horrific after that period of time. I sought more solace in the church too embarrassed to say anything (because they would accuse me of being sexual and therefore sinning), using generalities and praying my heart out yet nothing changed. They continually told me that things happened for a reason, and that God never gave me anything i couldn’t handle for a reason – that he was only giving me things to test my faith in him and my strength. Those beliefs are what ended my belief in the Judeo-Christian concept of God as a whole, as i could never conceive of such a God. I couldn’t comprehend a God that would allow for me to be assaulted and feel so violated, let alone the other atrocities in the world.
The man involved in that interaction was obsessed with the curvature of my body, and i’ve come to see my hourglass as representing my sexuality as i have an hourglass figure. At a higher weight (i was 150 around this time – i’m currently bouncing between 100-115), it was much more pronounced, and i used to have a lot of horny teenage boys apparently attracted to my figure. I just came to accept my curves as my sexuality – as if they were and would always be one. In my current experiences with sexuality, that still is the same thing. I objectify myself.
I remember being really ill and going to a work event with my boyfriend, just hanging around the mall while he worked. One of his coworkers saw me after he had pointed me out, and asked him how he fucked a skeleton. I was so repulsed by that statement, but i still feel so conflicted due to how much repulsion i feel by the mere existence of fat around my waist. It’s not that i think it’s unattractive for i didn’t ever think i was fat or ugly. I hate what it represents, during the final moments of my undoing for lack of a more insanely dramatic description.
I didn’t hate my body after that, but i just didn’t feel like i was in my skin and i remember wanting to be able to talk desperately about what happened. When i first remembered/realized everything that happened i remember being on the phone with a friend V, and having him just console me over and over letting me that he had experienced the same with one of the two individuals who assaulted me. That i wasn’t alone in that experience.
Two years ago in my relationship with F (my ex-boyfriend…..he’s mentioned a lot in these posts so i’ll just call him that) became overwhelmed by my small obsession with mental imagery i had from that night – i just couldn’t get it out of my head. It was cyclical and as though a video reel was being played behind my eyes without any out of control, but it didn’t actually take over my field of vision, so it was merely playing in my mind over and over. I tried so hard to express to him how painful it was to experience that, but it didn’t seem to really understand why i couldn’t express it all to him. I felt like smashing my head against the wall – just anything – to get it out of my fucking head.
Things felt so cyclical and like they were truly spiraling in the most cliche of senses when i came across a pro-ana website, and started losing weight. I’m trying to de-tangle all of this, but it’s hard when everything feels so fuzzy and like such a hot mess.
Better than it was before, but still a mess. I really didn’t realize how ill i was, until i started trying to sincerely trying to sort all of this out. I’m trying to hold onto hope that eventually things will eventually get easier, because i don’t know how much longer i can cope with my brain doing this to me. I only have so much tolerance for bullshit, and it’s being pushed rather far here. Granted i know that mental health isn’t bullshit, but often times with how much i gas light myself it often feels like it.
“Change happens only if you put in the effort to make it happen.”
Borderline Dissonance 