It’s like magic
One of the magical anesthetics of Binge Eating Disorder is ‘Tomorrow’. That means that tonight, I can eat a whole pizza and a dozen donuts because ‘Tomorrow’ I’ll start eating normally. Like a last hurrah. A lifetime of last hurrahs.
Timing is key
The only time that ‘Tomorrow’ works is at night.
I’ve tried to make it work during the day. “I’ll eat the rest of that ‘Tomorrow’.” Does not work out that way. If there’s an opportunity to eat the rest of that stuff, I’ll eat it. Today. There is no ‘Tomorrow’ until night. And, after I’ve eaten all the things.
The magic behind the curtain of food
‘Tomorrow’ means that I really am normal. I can make a choice to do what’s best for me – having confused ‘what’s best for me’ with ‘what the world thinks I should be able to do with ease. Because the world thinks I’m weak and they’ve convinced me that I am too.’
‘Tomorrow’ means that I’m not fueled by fear. It means that I’m making a considered, considerate and caring choice. I’m not denying myself the food that I need more than life while simultaneously planning to become 150% healthy. ‘Tomorrow’. It’s going to happen. It’s going to happen.
It’s a wonderful feeling to go to bed at night full to bursting and fantasize about how ‘Tomorrow’ will be perfect. It’s actually a horrible feeling but ‘Tomorrow’ let’s me pretend.
It’s perfect because I can do it forever.
It’s perfect because ‘Tomorrow’ masks the horror I know deep in my mind that it will never, ever, ever happen. ‘Tomorrow’ is another chance in an endless lifetime of chances.
Until.
Not even ‘Tomorrow’ works.
When the day comes when I know deep down in my mind that there is no ‘Tomorrow’. What do I do then? When that security blanket that promises in secret hissing sibilance that I am really going to be okay. ‘Tomorrow.’
No more ‘Tomorrows.’
No more choices.
So, I write.
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 