You know that buzz you feel when you leave your therapists office? You’ve just spilled your guts, let off some steam, maybe had an insight or perspective? It’s endorphins.
No?
Well, bully for you.
Temporary relief
For a bunch of us who’ve been in therapy, it’s a real thing. Not every time, but when it does happen – Whew. It’s a blessed relief from self loathing and all the accessories and extra outfits we pack in the baggage we tote around like a family of 4 returning from a 2-month trip to Siberia.
The point is, you… okay, Susan. Just say it. Use your pronouns… I feel better. I’ve outed myself. This dirty, shameful, secret disorder – for the length of this post – is no longer dirty, shameful, or secret. I have a tiny, tiny inkling suspicion of what ‘normal’ might feel like.
I am not fooling myself, either. Binge Eating Disorder is a roller-coaster of lies. There are harsh aspects that I’ll write about because I’ve decided to shed a glaring light on this most personal of conditions. Perhaps that light will magically transform my BED from toxic, killing mold in the basement to caked on spaghetti sauce that just needs a good SOS pad scrubbing. Maybe? Maybe a little? We’ll see.
Where was I?
Where the catharsis comes in
I swear, I’m getting to the point…
See! Back to the point. Writing and PUBLISHING what I write is cathartic. My episodes of binge eating fugue and compulsion have decreased a small yet noticeable bit. I don’t count on this decrease becoming permanent, but I appreciate it in the meantime. The need to keep working still exists because I still have this disorder. I have 52 years at creating a healthy attachment to it and a few pithy posts aren’t going to eliminate my death grip.
Caution, fellow sufferers
Why ‘temporarily’? Because journaling for you to read – vs journaling for oneself, which is a great practice – isn’t going to cure my binge eating disorder no matter how much I want it to be the holy grail. The perfect red dress on sale for 90% off. But, it isn’t. In the meantime, this process has been mind-altering. Literally. Temporarily, but I can accept that.
(Hello. My name is Susan and I’m addicted to analogies.)
If you’re reading this because you have binge eating disorder and are desperately looking for the one thing, the cure, the diet book, the holy grail… BEWARE. Journaling for the purpose of total strangers reading your innermost thoughts is not for everyone.
But, Thank You
High Fives to everyone who’s read thus far. Those who bear witness also get credit. Asking you to read my journal has created a precious, miraculous moment of catharsis.
High fives to you and you and you and you and you and high fours to my dog.
I’m Susan Scot Fry, the author of “A Year of Significance”. In 2020, I take on the greatest nemesis of my life: Binge Eating Disorder. With a side of aplomb sauce. Honest, occasionally humorous and sometimes I swear.
A Year of Significance 
People say “admitting you have a problem is the first step.”
And then they stop.
They forget that fixing a problem requires them to take another step. And then another. Ad infinitum, ad nauseum. Every single day, we have to acknowledge the problem, and take a step toward fixing it.
I want you to know that I am a hoarder. I am not in danger of finding any lost animal carcasses under a pile of STUFF, but I could easily go there if I didn’t wake up every day and acknowledge that hoarding is a big effin’ problem for me. Getting rid of STUFF hurts, and I can make a thousand completely reasonable excuses as to why I NEEEEEEED all that STUFF.
So. Talking to you through your journal? Big big inspiration and help for me to tackle my no-longer-as-secret disorder too. YOU ARE HELPING.
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Out those secrets! I hoard food, you hoard stuff. Even more we have in common. Thanks, Juli!
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thank you for your ballsiness!
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Nailed it! Thank you!
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