Mmm, food.

So I just got back from the grocery store, where I bought what seems to me like a ridiculous amount of binge food.

~ Tub of Yoplait creamy vanilla yogurt
~ Black Diamond marble cheese
~ Package of Pillsbury cookie dough
~ 3 chocolate bars -- Chunky Aero, Chunky Kit-Kat, & Crunch
~ Half a dozen donuts from Tim's -- Honey Dip x2, Triple Chocolate, Vanilla Dip with sprinkles, Chocolate Glazed, Cherry Cake
~ Twizzler's Pull-N-Peel
~ Slowpokes (chocolate caramel nut things)
~ Fudge striped digestives
~ 2 packages of Little Debbie snack cakes: Chips and Creme & Nutty Bars
~ Lay's Sour Cream and Onion chips

This is in addition to the two chocolate bars I already had (peanut butter Oh! Henry and maple-flavored Oh! Henry), as well as what remains of the disgusting chocolate peanuts I bought at the dollar store yesterday. NEVER buy chocolate peanuts at Dollarama, people... they are fucking raunchy. Seriously. They taste pretty much like the dollar store smells.


... woah. Seeing it all written out like that makes it seem like even more. Hoooly crap. Then again, this amount of shit is hopefully going to last me for QUITE awhile. My last lot of stuff was half this, or less, and it lasted for at LEAST several days.

Am I the only one who buys this much stuff at a time? And buys a few healthy-looking items in a futile attempt to "minimize" all the junk food? :S

I really fucking hate my life right now. And I want a way OUT, only there IS no fucking way out, because I am NEVER going to be able to transplant out of this life and out of my head and I want that so badly so badly so badly. I need to become an entirely different person, and I can never never do that, and it's driving me fucking crazy.

Why can't I just be someone else? Why the fuck do I have to be ME???

I am a child. A child in an adult's body. And this is why I'm having such a difficult time of everything. This is why I can never fucking deal. This is why I fear adult independence and responsibility and consequence so much. Nobody would expect a normal child to be independent and responsible, yet I am expected to be, and it is a contradiction that's going to do my head in.

It's the only explanation that makes any sense at all. And it makes a ridiculous amount of sense.

Problem is, I have no fucking idea how to grow up.

Not that I really want to anyway.

Holy FUCK, tonight's purging has left me ridiculously dizzy and out of it.

Wooooooooooah.

EDIT: Wow, this is such a fucking HIGH! Almost better than other highs. Especially because I get to eat.

I am so fucked up. But I loooove it!!!

Intuitive/normal eating

For the moment, at least, I'm trying the whole intuitive/normal eating thing. So far today I've found it's gone rather well. Since I had only eaten a small carton of yogurt before supper, and Dad asked me if I wanted a chicken burger and fries, I said yes. However, instead of having the fries, I decided to have a side of mixed frozen veggies, because I prefer to have one grain, one protein, and one veggie serving instead of having two grains and one protein. Not to mention that the former option is much more nutritionally balanced. I mean, at Homewood, a burger was never served with fries. One would simply have a side salad with it, and then some sort of fruit or yogurt for "dessert". Since I had yogurt before, and vegetables with, I figure I got everything I was supposed to get and also didn't go over, which for me has been a very hard balance to strike since I got home. Of course, at Homewood I'd also have had some sort of caloric liquid, but I'm still very squicky about drinking any of my calories, so I almost never do it anymore.

A couple hours after eating, though, I became quite hungry again. I guess this is sort of understandable, since I'd been awake since 2:30 and had b/ped the night before, leaving me pretty empty... and anyway, one's body does not usually tell a person it is hungry unless it means it. So, after kind of being peeved that it was hungry and ignoring it for awhile, I finally decided to go get something to pacify it. Specifically, I had a decent-sized bowl of cereal with milk, and am now drinking a large glass of Diet Pepsi. (I still drink a lot of Diet Pepsi, partly to make myself feel fuller, so I can be SURE I'm actually hungry when I feel hunger pangs, and partly because I really like it and can't seem to get along without it.) I feel pretty satisfied now -- not too full and not too empty. And I know I don't have to eat again till I get hungry, which is nice. I can concentrate on other things without being distracted by my belly or thinking of food constantly.

I dunno. I guess I figure that since I'm not totally willing to run straight for my disorder(s) again, I really have to try to move at a decent rate in the opposite direction. And the other way leads to a world in which my weight, my size, and my appearance really aren't the be-all and end-all of my life. It's much more important, in that world, that I be healthy and happy than that I be noticeably small. Healthy, to me, means eating when hungry and stopping when I'm full, but eating good foods most of the time. It also means keeping decently active -- not being sedentary like I've been for most of my teenage and adult life. I've tried to get at least a little bit of walking in every day; today I doubt I will go for a walk, so instead I'm considering playing some DDR. I really like DDR, and I've always wanted to get better at it, but usually I put it off. Maybe I should actually do it for once!

To be honest, I'm not sure how long this is going to last. Hell, my resolutions could all be gone in a few hours. Not to mention that I've still been b/ping on a fairly regular basis, so I can't honestly say I've entirely given up the ED, or that I even want to. But at least I'm trying (most of the time) to end the whole starvation aspect of it.

But it's probably a mistake to expect everything to be better all at once, anyway.

So I had my McD's interview, and it seemed to go okay. The woman who interviewed me said she'd be calling my references before she got back to me, though, and my old manager is not supposed to be in until tomorrow, so I won't get a call until tomorrow sometime, at the earliest. This means, luckily, that I still have the chance to call said old manager and ask her to be my reference, because I still haven't asked her yet. Really need to do that... :S.

I can't help hoping I get this job, despite my earlier HUGE issues with trying for a job at all. Now that I've decided to do it, I will be disappointed if it doesn't turn out well. How typical of me.

I'm not looking forward to getting up at 6 AM tomorrow morning, though. (The managers, at least when I was working there, started their shifts then.) I have to get hold of her before McD's does, and McD's managers probably get in at around the same time, so... yeah. Calling early is clearly of the essence.

Also, I JUST ate supper (like 60-90 mins ago) and I'm hungry again! Wtf???

That is all.

Okay. Fuck it. I'm going to have to throw away any semblance of sanity and call McDonald's back and have a stupid interview and possibly get a stupid job. Because my mother won't fucking leave me alone, and is pretty clear about the fact that she thinks I'm a lazy, irresponsible moocher.

I really think I'm going to have to work towards leaving home, or something. I cannot fucking STAND living in this house anymore. I don't care if I'm as poor as a fucking church mouse -- I can't stand her poison. Because that's what it feels like to me. All she ever does is make me feel like shit, and I am fucking SICK of it.


EDIT: I have an interview at McDonald's. And, #1, they have a reference I never actually ASKED to be my reference, and #2, they want another reference by tomorrow afternoon at 2:15, and #3, I think they're actually going to call both of my references, because otherwise why would they be so adamant about wanting them? FUCK FUCK FUCK. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? This is all a bloody fucking disaster. But why should I have expected anything else? My whole fucking LIFE seems to be one goddamned disaster.

I am SO FUCKING PISSED right now.

... Am I going crazy? Is this stuff really my fault, like my mother thinks? Could I really just fix it if I really wanted to, as both my parents believe?

You know, that last post sounded really angry. The truth is... all I really feel right now is sorrow. There's no anger in there at all.

I just wish my mother would understand. But it has become more and more clear to me as time has passed that she never, ever will.

I really really hate my mother sometimes.

"You're not even trying."
"You have to get some control over this."
(about purging)

Says the same woman who thinks me not working or going to school is a choice.

Says the same woman who in July is going to make me pay over two-thirds of my social assistance cheques in rent because she wants me to have some "responsibility for [my]self". (The truth is, she really wants me to get a job, and figures that if she makes me pay rent I'll HAVE to get a job, because she KNOWS how much I hate not having any money for myself.)

Says the same woman who thinks I'm lazy because obviously I am REALLY fucking happy living off government CHARITY instead of earning my own income. She believes this, I can only surmise, because I have told her repeatedly how much I hate being on welfare, how I hate how little money it is, and how I feel like I'm not doing anything with my life and I hate that, too.

Do the words "I have depression and an eating disorder" mean ANYTHING to her!?!?

OH MY FUCKING GOD. WILL SOMEONE KNOCK SOME FUCKING SENSE INTO THIS WOMAN????


From now on I'm purging in the den, or maybe the back porch -- somewhere below them, on the opposite side of the house -- into a bucket, and dumping it in the toilet afterwards. Neither of them will ever hear me again. I am THROUGH having it always implied that my problems are an unfortunate set of bad behaviors that I could easily just fix if I wanted to. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I WANT TO KILL THEM ALL. THOSE FUCKING IDIOTS KNOW ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING ABOUT ME OR MENTAL ILLNESS. HOW DARE THEY TRY TO TELL ME WHAT I SHOULD OR SHOULD NOT DO???

I WISH I COULD GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE. I HATE THIS FUCKING PLACE.

Today I had my first appointment with my new psychologist.

Long. Uncapitalized. Swears. You have been warned.


my appointment went... well, like an intake appointment goes, i guess. she asked me a whole bunch of questions and i answered them. she also explained the basics of the procedures and policies of the clinic. apparently she usually does appointments only once every two weeks, like my last therapist (who didn't help me at all). that made me feel a little skeevy, i have to admit. what is it with these government-based therapists who think that once every two weeks is even ENOUGH?? it's just fucking ridiculous. at a rate of once every two weeks i feel like i shouldn't even bother -- like it's just a waste of my fucking time. she was completely nonchalant about doing it once a week instead of once every two weeks, though. with the other one, when i asked for every week instead of every second week, i just felt really fucking awkward. not so awkward with the new one though. which is probably good, since the last one didn't work out and everything.

my "homework" for this week is to think about how i want to plan talking to my parents if/when they come in for a session, what i want to say, etc. see, my mother wants me to pay rent starting when i come back from my vacation, and is also pushing me really really hard to work. j (the therapist), however, does not want me to work right now, because she thinks it will lead to bad things, and possibly quickly. she thinks i need to take at least the entire summer just for myself, to try some new things and get myself straightened away more with the therapy and whatnot. so she wants to talk to my parents, to try and convince them NOT to make me pay $50 a week for rent after i come back from florida, so that i can have money to do stuff that she thinks will help me feel better, etc.

i can't help feeling like she gives the disorder, or whatever, more credit for my states of mind than it is worth. i pretty much feel like the vast majority of this is MY fault. a character flaw, me being immature and lazy and stupid, or something equally caused deliberately, solely, by ME. she said something about how the first goal we would work towards would be acceptance -- ie, acceptance, first of all, of my diagnoses (depression, anxiety, eating disorder), and i can only suppose she also wants me to accept that they are not character flaws. but i just don't see that. i am convinced that i am responsible. i am responsible. me me me. if i tried harder i could do better. of course, that's what she says most of her clients think too. but it seems so logical to me. if i just tried harder, i could do whatever i wanted to. but i don't try harder, so that makes it my fault, because i am pretty sure i could choose to try harder and just don't. i could suppress all the uncomfortable emotions and sensations and just fucking do it. but i DON'T. because i am a lazy fucking FAILURE. at life and at school and at being anybody and at doing anything and at absolutely fucking everything.

perhaps this is why i need to work on acceptance. maybe it is important. but i just don't see how it could be possible that this is NOT my fault. that just doesn't make any sense to me. because i am completely convinced that it IS. MY fault. it IS goddamnit!

of course, it's also true that i've had this idea basically pounded into my head by my parents. they're convinced that if i was just not so lazy, if i just decided i would do things like get a job instead of always sitting around the house like a sedentary log, i would DO it. if i only decided, it would be SO.

i have also always had this feeling, my own self (not implanted by them), that this "illness" or whatever is something outside of me that just happens to be there, and i am separate from it, but near it, and deliberately holding it to myself -- similar to if i was wearing a blanket. when i think what she wants me to accept is that it is PART of me -- more like a skin graft than a blanket -- and i wear the skin graft not out of choice, but out of necessity, because of genetics or things that happened in my environment or whatever else. it's a graft that i suppose it must be possible to somewhat peel off, or at least grow to accept and deal with, painful and itchy as it is; but even if i manage that, the process is still gonna hurt like hell. but i guess it's true that the only therapy that ever worked before did also hurt like hell.

fuck, though. what i really wanted was to get AWAY from the pain and the discomfort. what i really wanted was to push this away from me. say, nope, it's not mine. take it away from me. you can have it. it doesn't belong to me -- this was a mistake -- someone gave it to me as a present and i just need their receipt so i can take it back but i can't find them to get the stupid fucking receipt back can somebody please help me fucking FIND them!?!?. but she wants me not just to know, but to ACCEPT, EMOTIONALLY accept, that this is mine, it does belong to me, and it is inescapable. i can't push it away and i can't make it sever itself from me. i can suppress it, sure; but i've done that for years upon years, and what has it ever gotten me but surface happiness and inner misery? so i have to, first, accept it. but acceptance is a motherfucking tough piece of work. one simple word, but not even remotely CLOSE to a simple realization. if only.

if it was easy, nobody would ever have to be in therapy. including me. i wouldn't have to be a crazy person. i wouldn't have so much stupid shit on my record. yadda yadda yadda. i can't change the past -- i know. but if i could wipe clean every trace of mental illness, i would. even if it meant less soul growth, less intellectual growth, whatever... i'd do it. at least i'd be motherfucking HAPPY.

there was a time when i thought pessimism, cynicism, and dysthymia were the truths of life. when i wouldn't have traded my newfound knowledge for the ignorant happiness of other people. right now, though... i'd trade it all. trade it all for being normal. i would. i'm just sick of never being happy and never being able to do stuff and having slower-than-usual thought processes and all the rest of that garbage. i watched an old video on youtube today and couldn't believe how fast i was talking before. i never even come close to talking that fast now. my brain has fucking slowed DOWN. what happened to the fast-talking quick-thinking academically able secure enough in herself to at least complete COURSES girl? where did she go? buried under a stupid disorder or two or three. disorders which i never felt were mine, but which only exist in my brain, and so they must be mine. they feel like they have tangible, physical presence, and proof in reality, but the truth is that they ONLY exist in MY HEAD, and nobody deliberately injured me or gave me any disorders. it's JUST ME ... ... and that's the rub. the sad, pathetic, fucking stupid idiotic rub. this is my stupid fucked-up problem and i have to deal with it. i have to deal. i have to deal.

but i don't WANT to fucking DEAL.

GOD FUCKING DAMNIT!!!!!!

I am a ridiculously efficient purger. Nowadays my stomach muscles seem to be trained. When I stick my fingers down my throat (I still have to do that for it to work, unfortunately) it all comes up really fast and easily, and practically effortlessly too. Plus the reflux pill makes the acid in my stomach almost nonexistent, so it doesn't even burn or anything. No pain, no strain -- just food, looking as though I just swallowed it, quickly but smoothly returning the way it came.

It's no wonder I can't stop doing this. I'm even better at it now than I was before I left for residential -- mostly because I'm not ridiculously weak now, so my muscles actually have some power in them.

So bad, so sad. But so good and wonderful at the same time.

Alas.

Starting to feel a little worse mood-wise, but I actually like this better. I don't feel like me when I'm neutral or happy all the time.

The walls have to come down sometime.
Sooner or later, the truth has to emerge.
The truth, which is: I'm not REALLY happy, and I never was.

It seems to come back to that every time.


Why did I ever think things were any different?

It's really easier to just eat very little. I don't have to deal with my perpetually fat self, or the guilt about the food, then. And so what if the easy way is not always the "right" way? Obviously I don't fucking care, or else I'd be trying harder to stay in "recovery".

Make of that what you will. Just don't post any comments urging me to recover, because that will really piss me off, and I'm tired and irritable to start with today. I will not be nice to you if you choose to ignore that warning.

Sayonara.

The eXtreme Relationship/Sexuality Test

Your overall dating experience is 18%. Your sexual experience is 9%, higher than 10% of other test-takers. Your sex-drive level is 69%, higher than 60% of others. Your morality index is 7 out of 10, where lower is less inhibited. The average scores are 33% dating and 41% sexual experience.

Find out how you compare! Take the test! brought to you by thatsurveysite

FUCK YEAH! It's 13C outside... for you uncool Americans who use Fahrenheit, that would translate to 56F. That probably sounds cold to a lot of you, but to me it sounds fantastic. Not only that, but it is brilliantly sunny and absolutely GORGEOUS outside!

And you know what that means, boys and girls... I'm finally going to get to start walking!! :D :D. I've been really hating the fact that I couldn't get any exercise outside of my house -- it's just been too bloody cold to walk -- but now it's finally starting to warm up to the point that I could probably walk every day or every other day if I wanted to. I love it!

I don't know why I'm in such a good mood... I didn't get that much sleep last night. Maybe it's because, right now, I'm doing what I want for a change. Yes, that's cryptic, but no, I'm not explaining. You will live, I'm sure. :P

PS: WTF, legs? Whyyyy are you suddenly starting to retain water!?!?

Self-injury triggers ahead

Today when I went shopping at the Zellers pharmacy, the person who checked me in must have thought my items were very strange.

~ 6-pack assorted Boost drinks
~ Crest extra-whitening with tartar control toothpaste
~ Double-edged razor blades*
~ Bottle of extra-strength acetaminophen (120)**
~ Chocolate Exlax (48 pieces)

Annnnd then I went to Lawton's and bought a bottle of Diet Pepsi Jazz and a 3 Musketeers bar. How anti-climactic.


* - On the not-so-off chance that I end up SI-ing in the future, I don't want to use a dirty old blade that's been sitting in my sharps box for months. Clean plz kthxbye!
** - I swear I'm not actually planning to do anything anytime soon. I just felt better having it around. Probably not a great idea -- but whatev'. Too late now.

May 15th is my first (two-hour) session with my new therapist.

Dear god, I hope this one works out. The first one ended up "abandoning" me by leaving the country, the second one was a terrible personality match, and the third one had no fucking clue how to help me.

If there is any benevolent higher power in this existence, it will let things work out this time

Pleasepleaseplease.

I feel like a fucking elephant.

Why am I so FAT?!?!?!?!

You Are 44% Peaceful

In general, you think the world's a pretty great place - and you're happy to be a part of it. Sometimes you struggle with life, but who doesn't? You are quite level headed, though you have more inner angst than you'd like.

How Peaceful Are You?

If my dad's blood pressure monitor was right, my blood pressure after my purge (not long ago) was 106/60. I find it hard to believe that one b/p session could drop my blood pressure a full 20 points, though... does that seem accurate to anyone else??