Food as a punishment

So last night I "went to bed" a few minutes after my post. I didn't even wash my face or brush my teeth. I simply wanted to pass out as soon as possible. But, I have to read before I fall asleep or else I just lay there thinking for ridiculous amounts of time. So, I decided I would read some Harry Potter (I've been rereading the series before bedtime since this summer) and instead of getting more tired, I ended up starting to wake up. And then I began to feel hungry. But as I wanted to go to bed soon, I knew I shouldn't eat despite only having had one meal yesterday.


Eventually, around 10:00, I put the book down and tried to fall asleep, but my mind kept working and I kept thinking about all of the things I should have accomplished but simply shrugged off. Like I should have streamed the lectures I missed. I should have done some of the physiology homework. I should have done a lot of stuff. Like a lot. So then I was back to not being able to sleep and being stuck in my own head. So, I picked up Harry Potter again. Then, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I decided I would have a protein bar after all. Except instead of having one, I had two. Then I went back for a third. And a fourth. And then I just finished the box off because I suck. I knew what I was doing while I was doing it, but I couldn't stop. And I knew it would upset my stomach (and me in general), but I kept going. After finishing that entire box of chocolate peanut butter protein bars, I ate a strawberry one. Because that one wasn't that great, I had a double chocolate one to "erase" the taste of the strawberry one. And about 1,000 calories later, I was feeling disgusting and wide awake.


I know. I know. Not such a hot decision. As I sit and think about it today, I realize that I was using food to punish myself for not doing as much work as I should have. Why? Because we all know that gaining weight would be the ultimate form of failure for me and I guess I felt as though I deserved to fail at something I want to make up for my hours of respite and relaxation. I know, I know. Not healthy. And as I sit here, attempting to understand my biochemistry (it's the pentose phosphate pathway - why am I struggling with this when I've learned it before?), I remember yesterday and want to cry/did cry/stopped crying because I was afraid someone would walk by and think I was a moron.


That being said, I did go to the gym today. I ran my 5km, did a tiny bit of weightlifting and called it good (I didn't have enough time to do everything I wanted to do). It was so hard today. Like my stomach was still a bit upset and I had a stitch in both sides of my chest within a mile of my start. But I pushed through it because really, I don't deserve a break. I already had one yesterday and it didn't do me any good.


So, now I shall go back to learning about the pentose phosphate pathway, gluconeogenesis, and glycolysis. I'm not posting this for pity - I'm simply posting this because it helps and because honestly, it's a lot easier writing about it on here than telling one of my friends or my mom on the phone. I'm obviously disappointed in myself and I don't want them to be, too.


Pwhew. Sorry.


And on that oh-so-chipper note, I hope you had a great birthday, Mom!