Eating Disorders and Shutdowns

Oh. My. Various. Heathen.  Gods.

Guten Tag, my friends!  Today, I just felt like shit.  I woke up in a foul mood, and it didn’t improve as the day went on.  I’m still in a pretty dark ‘fuck you and fuck that rock and fuck that tree and fuck the state of political affairs in West New Zealand’ kind of mood.  I have been meeping and blahping and flapping my left hand and banging my head with my right hand all while struggling not to throw shit up in the air  and say fuck it to everything.  For once, I wasn’t suicidal in this sort of dark mood, but I was extremely irritable and for my various gods sakes, I simply could not figure it out.

My dear readers, I sincerely hope you can understand me when I say, I fucking hate that it’s so hard for me to express myself.  Seriously.  I have flow charts that I made for the various standard emotion states complete with a K.I.S.S. (keep it simple stupid) definition with each of them and I still can’t say “I feel bashful” or “I feel overwhelmed”.  Instead, with my infinite wisdom, I say things like “BWAAHP BWAAHP” “MWRRRRRWHHRRRWWWH” and “Fucking jesus christ on a stick with toast and jam the fuck” and “I feel sad/bad/mad/glad”.  I hate it so fucking much.  I want nothing more than to be able to say “why yes, mother, indeed, I felt quite displeased with your choice of conversational volume and tone.  It caused me great distress.”  But no, instead I go “kaasan no STOP” and shut down.

“But what even IS a shut down, Sarcasi-chan,” you may be asking.   Well, a shut down is where I have to reboot my entire system.  I cannot speak or write well, if at all.  I am quite literally able to sit down and angrily stare at something.  Or anxiously stare at something.  Or numbly stare at something.  Really, it’s where I get overwhelmed with emotions and simply cannot cope or deal with them, so I sort of step back with-in my own mind and observe.  It’s a bit different from dissociating because dissociation is always caused by extreme stress and anxiety brought on by a trigger for my PTSD.  Shutting down is more of an autistic thing where I have to reboot like a computer due to outside stimuli being overwhelming.  So, to keep to the basics, a shut down is when I have to reboot to function like a person.

Now, during a shut down, I will either not talk or be incapable of speech.  I will also not be hungry in the slightest bit.  This leads to problems regarding my Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified.  I tend to restrict my intake or I throw up.  The last few days, I have been in a massive binge-fest and I fucking hate myself for it and that ups my Vulnerability level.  I’m not sure how I can explain that except to say that my Vulnerability level is this thing that tracks how much more shit I can handle before I shut down or whatever.  Anyway, so my Vulnerability has been up because I’ve felt like such a fat cow.  And because my mother can’t seem to respect my stuff.  And because I have to take the bus to a place I’ve never been before tomorrow because my mother can’t be bothered to keep her word.  And because I’m going to a social function and I highly dislike social functions.

Because of my shut down, however, I didn’t want to eat all day.  Which is great because I think I’ve eaten under 1000 calories for the first time in ages.  Which is bad because I think I’ve eaten under 1000 calories for the first time in ages.  I don’t know if I want to do recovery or not and I firmly believe that it’s one’s choice to do so.  However, I will not glorify having an eating disorder because it’s really unhealthy.  Whether it’s Anorexia or Binge Eating, it’s extremely bad for your health.  I hate myself, so I don’t care if I have one, but if any of my readers wants to do recovery, send me a message via my contact page and I can send you some resources depending on your state and geological location.

I digress.  I fucking hate my eating disorder behavior when it comes to purging.  When it comes to restricting, when I manage to stay within my limits, I feel great.  I feel great because I am in control of that one aspect of my life, even if it technically controls me.  I wish I could say the following without sounding like I belong in a mental ward, but I sort of love the restricting aspect of my eating disorder.  Occasionally, I love the way I feel after I puke because of that empty stomach feel.  That feeling I get when my stomach is devoid of substance, when I’ve successfully aborted my food, when I’ve successfully used extreme ‘self-control’ to make sure no food has passed my lips, that feeling is indescribable for me.

All my life, I’ve been told that I can’t do this, I can’t do that, simply because of my status as Autistic or whatever diagnosis it is that week.  My own mother had written me off as ‘disabled’ when I was six because I was depressed.  Well, shocker, I’m different as fuck.  And I’ve always been treated different as fuck.  And I don’t want to be different.  With weight loss, I’m getting back into a more ‘normal’ weight range.  I’m not as different when it comes to looks.  My behavior is still fucked up though and you can legit tell I’m Autistic after spending more than 5 minutes with me, but I look normal.  I look nice at this lower weight.  Now, I’m still overweight, my readers, but I’m no longer morbidly obese.  I’m able to blend a bit more with normal society and people treat me less like that kid in 10th grade who still ate paste and more like someone to look up to.

I’m sad to think that I’m only as valuable as what the scale says, but when I’m in shut down mode and my hunger and appetite completely disappear, I don’t care.  I love that state of ‘fuck you’ that means I truly can not eat and not obsess over it.  I obsess over every number that involves my being.  Every calorie that I ingest, work off, abstain from.  Every pound that comes or goes.  My BMR.  My TDEE.  My measurements.  The size clothes I wear.  I love to calculate the new numbers.  I love the maths portion of my weight loss and my Eating Disorder.  Numbers are a very concrete and real thing and that speaks to me on a level words can’t, and sometimes I wonder if everyone with a weight loss-related Eating Disorder has that same romanticization of numbers.

Then again, I’m just Autistic, so what do I know?

The Sarcastic Autist.


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