Hi to any visitors, I hope you’re doing okay.

Imagine it’s Monday morning. You get to the office, your class, or wherever it is you spend your weekdays, and everyone’s talking about their weekends. Most people binge-watched Netflix, spending a cosy weekend on the sofa making their way through The Walking Dead, perhaps with their partner or best friend. A few others say they had some wild nights out with each other, not calling it binge-drinking but everyone knows that’s exactly what they mean, and they just laugh along as the adventures of the nights are shared. Then they turn to you. You mumble something about seeing a friend or doing laundry, because if there’s one form of binging that isn’t seen as socially acceptable, it’s binge-eating.

There is a huge difference between over-indulgence and binge-eating. Over-indulgence is having a ‘cheat day’, or having another slice of cake. It’s a treat, and you might say to other people “I know I should have a salad, but I’m going to get that burger instead. I feel so guilty!”. But you don’t, you enjoy the experience, you feel like a cheeky little kid who’s just broken a rule. You indulge and you move on with yourself, looking back fondly on the whole experience.

Binge-eating is a whole new level. You feel completely out of control, like you aren’t quite yourself anymore. You’re eating everything and anything you can, and although there’s enjoyment in a way, there’s never happiness. It’s not just another slice of cake, it’s the entire thing. Plus a loaf of bread. An entire block of cheese, and half a box of cereal. The whole time your mind is screaming at you to stop, to control yourself, but right now nothing is standing in your way. This isn’t guilt anymore, this is complete shame, and it lasts for days.

Out of every aspect of my eating disorder, binging is my least favourite behaviour. There’s not a lot of things I wouldn’t give up if a fairy came and told me I would never have to binge again. I don’t talk about it to anyone, not even Alex or Jack, because I feel so embarrassed and ashamed of myself for partaking in it, enough that I feel like even my two closest friends would judge me horrifically for it. I don’t even smoke pot with them very often anymore because I’m so worried about ‘the munchies’ pushing me into another binge.

As good as the food tastes, it’s never a pleasant experience for me. I never know when it’s going to happen, when the feelings of “screw this disorder!” hit me and the cravings become too much, that I need this food in my body otherwise I am going to completely lose my mind. If I’m around people at the time, I feel incredibly frustrated that I’m not on my own, but as soon as I am alone then my body goes on autopilot.

I feel like I’m back in my body when I realise I’m standing at the checkout of the supermarket, my arms full of all the this food I’m usually too scared to even touch. Chocolate, crisps, cheese covered chips, cookies, croissants… ‘crap’, to put it all in one category. I feel like everyone is staring at me, judging my behaviour, so I glare back at them. When I starve myself, I feel powerful, invincible even, but at this moment I’m at my weakest, so I become defensive. Every moment from there until home is spent with the disorder part of my brain talking to me. Just throw it away. Give it to someone. Go back and return it. You don’t need this, you can control yourself. Don’t undo everything you’ve worked for, just please stop. But I carry on regardless, because right now, I’m not me anymore.

I feel like I can’t get the food into me fast enough. Huge mouthfuls that I can’t chew properly, so I cough and choke as I try to swallow it. I watch YouTube or Netflix as I do, trying to distract my brain from what I’m doing. One of my eating disorder behaviours is that I try to eat things one by one, so I can’t move onto another food until I’ve finished all of the type of food I’m currently eating, and that continues here. I won’t eat the cookies until I’ve finished the chocolate, and I won’t eat the crisps until there’s no cookies left.

It takes twenty minutes for your brain to register that there’s food or drink in your stomach, and for you to start feeling full, and therefore it takes twenty minutes for me to slow down and stop. I have a headache from the sugar and salt I’ve forced into my body. I have cramps and I feel physically stick. Standing up is legitimately painful, the weight in my stomach pushing against my other organs. I look in the mirror and my tummy is bloated, and it looks alien seeing it stick out along with my ribs and hipbones.

I feel numb, ashamed, completely self-loathing. All the work I’ve put in over the last week or so undone by half an hour of mania. If I feel able to, I drink water. No cigarettes for the rest of the day, I don’t deserve to smoke anymore. I consider cutting myself, but I know I don’t deserve the pain that I somewhat enjoy from it. So I lie down and cry myself to sleep.

I feel horrendous the next day, every single time. There’s the emotional numbness, the regret, and the full-on shame. There’s the distorted body you try to avoid catching a glimpse of, and worst of all, there’s the weigh-in. Even during the periods that I wasn’t restricting, I weigh myself every day out of habit, no matter how scared I am of seeing my weight shoot up. A couple of times, I’ve gotten off lucky and either maintained or put on a pound. Usually I’ll have gained anywhere from two to four pounds. Recently I was left reeling after I found out I had put on five-and-a-half pounds from a binge that I thought “wasn’t that bad”.

I look in the mirror and vow that it’s the last time that I’ll binge. That it’s not worth it, and that I can control myself. A week or two later I find myself at the checkouts with another shopping basket of food, telling myself the exact same thing.

I don’t binge regularly enough for my eating disorder to be classed as Binge Eating Disorder (BED) – my breakdown usually occurs two or three times a month, sometimes once every four-to-six weeks if feel my ED is ‘going well’. I doubt it would be classed as bulimia as I don’t purge. I’ve made myself throw up in the past but have always struggled to do so, so nowadays I’m only able to if I’m drunk. I’ve never used – although have considered – laxatives, and feel too worn-down the next day to exercise very much. Instead, I try to ‘start afresh’ and continue my normal eating pattern (or lack of), or fast for a few days. It’s always difficult picking myself up again as I start feeling hunger again now my stomach has been full, and I have to have massive self-control to not fall back into the binging cycle that makes me gain weight until my body is able to get used to being hungry again.

The weight I’ve gained, of course, is mostly from the food rather than suddenly becoming fat. Water weight is also present, and only sticks around for a couple of days. In fact, the only good thing about binging is that it means I’ll be able to go to the toilet some point soon for the first time in a week. But at the time, it doesn’t matter. I am convinced that there’s inches and inches of fat under my skin, and that I am a useless, worthless animal, no longer deserving to be classed as a human.

Everyone’s experiences with binge-eating is different, and I can only speak for myself. But ask anyone experiencing it and they will tell you that it completely sucks. It screws over your self-esteem and self-worth more than any other part of your eating disorder, and it’s an experience that I wouldn’t wish on anybody. If you or anybody you know experience these behaviours on a frequent basis, I utterly urge you to speak to a doctor or somebody you trust. It may be difficult and embarrassing, but life doesn’t have to be like this and you are worthy and deserving of help and treatment.

Finn x

Note: The images included in this post are memes, however, although more light-hearted than what it actually is, they do actually relate to how I feel about binging which is why I’ve included them here. This should not be taken in anyway as that I encourage eating disorder behaviour or that I am ‘pro-ED’.