I feel strongly about bringing more awareness to the struggles of binge eating. The “Stuffed With Emptiness” series delves into details and thoughts of significant moments of my journey. If this topic could be triggering to your own thoughts and experience in any way, please read with caution or wait to visit FFF later.
Catch Up With Previous Stuffed With Emptiness Posts:
THE PIZZA IN THE CAR EPISODE
A little over two weeks had passed since my first binge. I regained the illusion of control over my food and the memories of hiding Pop Tart wrappers in the trash had faded away to the recesses of my mind. I approached a special weekend and only had that on my mind.
I quickly readied myself for the weekend, prideful and, at the same time, ashamed of what I saw in the mirror. I always wanted a body that would impress Bryan*. Would it be enough? Our years of on-again, off-again back and forth weighed on me emotionally and I just wanted to win him over.
This weekend will be my chance. The distance and hectic schedules won’t matter anymore. He will want me enough to make full time for our relationship. I just know this weekend can change everything.
The weekend went as expected – like a shot of heroin into each others’ blood streams – completely wrapped up in each other in an addictive, obsessive way…only to come crashing down to pain at the end.
On my drive home that Sunday afternoon tears welled up in my eyes. I knew our little cat-and-mouse games would return – him only wanting me when I distanced myself. Yet I knew I would continue pouring myself out to him, giving him all the control. The undeniable realization washed over me: I would never reach the point of a priority in his life. The surge of emotions swallowed me whole….and I didn’t want to let them out.
As the natural course of my thoughts played out on the two hour drive home, I thought of what I deemed as my failures of the weekend. A dinner out where I ate a few slices of pizza entrapped my thoughts. I could not shake the image of eating pizza from my mind.
Suddenly, I found myself parked in front of the $5 large cheese pizza carry out place near my house. I ordered quickly, fighting back the tears. I kindly smiled through the anger as I thanked the man for my pizza, then rushed out to my car. I pulled around to a vacant corner of the large shopping center parking lot, peeling my eye’s for my mom’s car since she regularly frequented the area.
I opened the box and pulled a cheesy, greasy, sub-par pizza slice to my lips. I took a bite. A large bite. I kept biting until I could barely fill my mouth anymore. I was almost choking between the sobbing and the chewing. But I couldn’t stop until the entire large pizza had vanished as if into thin air.
I zeroed in on the pizza. I could see nothing else. I could only feel hot grease sliding down my throat, instead of the bile of fear rising up. I could deal with the physical pain of an overfilled stomach, because it helped me avoid the emotional pain of once again not measuring up.
My mind had twisted my actions into a way to show Bryan I didn’t care that he didn’t value me enough. I could do what I wanted and eat an entire large pizza if so desired. Screw trying to please him.
In reality, I too didn’t value myself enough. From that moment on, food became the way to stuff down and hide that painful truth. I was unwanted.
Unlovable. By my father. By my boyfriend. By my friends – or lack thereof. By myself.
I left thinking the weekend would change everything. I was right…just not in the way I had imagined.
Have you ever tried to determine your worth based on someone else?