ArcaMax

Dear Annie: From the outside, my life looks like the kind of "before" photo people put in gratitude journals. I have a husband who is genuinely kind, kids who still call and actually want to tell me about their days, and a steady job that pays the bills and even gives me a sense of purpose. Friends tell me I'm lucky, and I know they mean it. I nod, I smile, and I make a joke. I'm good at that part. I'm the one who keeps the mood light, who can get the table laughing, who seems "fine."

But when the door closes and the house is quiet, I feel something I can't explain to anyone without sounding ungrateful: I hate myself. Not in a dramatic, attention-seeking way. In a heavy, constant way. Like there's a mean voice in my head that never takes a day off.

I did have childhood sexual abuse, and I've had plenty of counseling over the years. I've done the hard work, I've said the words out loud, and I've cried the tears. That's why I feel ridiculous even typing this. It happened so long ago. My life is good now. So why do I still feel broken? Why can't I get it together?

Here's the part I'm ashamed to say: I eat my feelings. I don't mean an occasional stress snack. I mean I feel anxious or empty or angry, and my body seems to march me to the kitchen like it's on autopilot. I tell myself I'll have "just a little," and then I'm standing over the sink, eating in a hurry, like I don't want anyone to catch me. Sometimes I don't even taste it. It's just ... relief for a minute. Then it turns into disgust.

I've gained so much weight that normal things are hard now. I get winded walking up the stairs. I avoid pictures. I dread getting invited anywhere because I don't know what to wear, and every social situation feels like I'm bracing for someone to judge me. None of my clothes fit comfortably. I've tried diet after diet. Some work for a while, and then something stressful happens and I'm right back where I started, only heavier and more ashamed.

I've removed every mirror in my house. I can't stand seeing myself.

I don't understand how I can be so happy with my life and yet feel so miserable in my own skin. How do I stop fighting myself and start living like the person my family thinks I am? -- Smiling on the Outside, Sinking Inside

Dear Smiling on the Outside: I'm so sorry you're carrying this. And no, you're not "ungrateful." Trauma doesn't keep a calendar. Even when life becomes safe, the body can still reach for relief the way it learned to survive. Eating isn't the problem; it's the medicine you found when you didn't have better options.

You've done counseling, but it may be time for a more targeted kind from a therapist who specializes in trauma and compulsive eating -- perhaps a binge-eating specialist or someone who offers EMDR or somatic therapy. Also, talk with your doctor. Binge eating disorder is real and treatable, and there are evidence-based supports, including medication for some people, plus nutrition counseling that isn't diet culture punishment.

Start with one gentle step this week. Eat one planned snack sitting down, no hiding, and practice speaking to yourself as you would to a loved one.

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"Out of Bounds: Estrangement, Boundaries and the Search for Forgiveness" is out now! Annie Lane's third anthology is for anyone who has lived with anger, estrangement or the deep ache of being wronged -- because forgiveness isn't for them. It's for you. Visit http://www.creatorspublishing.com for more information. Follow Annie Lane on Instagram at @dearannieofficial. Send your questions for Annie Lane to dearannie@creators.com.