What would happen if people knew “the truth”? If they knew, like I do, that I am too big and that I eat too much?
Part of me still thinks that they’d hate me. I still so vividly remember telling myself telling myself that my third-grade teacher would hate me if she knew how much I weighed. I worry about different people knowing now—sometimes it’s someone in particular, and other times it’s just everyone. However, the feeling remains the same. It’s strong and overwhelming, and if I could just lose enough weight, maybe it would go away. (Do I really think the feeling would go away? Okay, probably not…)
A small part of me thinks that it would be a relief for others to know. I’ve been ashamed and tried to hide how big I am for so long, and that’s being deceptive… I don’t like it. Maybe if others knew, I would feel less dishonest. Maybe I’d worry less about people not liking me for it, people abandoning me for it, if they knew how bad things are and still loved me.
But I’ve tried telling people—most people don’t see what I see, or don’t trust me enough to tell me that they do. (Not that I blame them; I wouldn’t trust me with that knowledge, either!) I suppose maybe the fact that nobody I trust will admit that they think I’m overweight should tell me something, and sometimes it does. But sometimes it just means they haven’t realized it yet, and I don’t know what will happen when they do.
Sometimes I feel like I’ve come so far in my struggle with this ED—but then writing these entries makes me realize just how far I have to go. It still feels helpful to get things out, though, and I hope it helps others understand how I feel and how others in similar situations might feel, and that it helps people who might have similar thoughts realize that they aren’t alone.