Another set of backdated entries from the forum I make posts at. There is nothing more recent than March 5th, but that's because I haven't been writing anything.


January 31st, 2010

There was a lot I meant to write here and didn't. Let's try and put it in a small-ish nutshell. Called about emotions group; got an appointment set up with dietician in two weeks; am still b/ping, and also eating less in between times; starting to think recovery might be a fucking joke, for all I can do with it.

I just don't know what to do or say anymore. I can't keep myself on the straight and narrow, and I don't see how anyone else can, either, so it appears to me that I'm just bloody screwed.


February 7th, 2010

Things are still basically going exactly the same as they were the last time I wrote. Restriction. B/ping. I've spent almost all my money from last cheque; the next one doesn't come for another eight days.

Saw my GP last Thursday about getting a medical withdrawal for student loan from last semester, and she did agree to fill out the form for me. However, she didn't exactly think going back and doing a course over the summer was a good idea. I feel that I am obliged to tell the career counsellor I'm seeing that my doctor doesn't recommend I do a course this summer, and I'm slightly incensed about it. I just keep thinking, "What the hell am I going to do with my summer if I don't do a course?" For how long, exactly, can I deal with the emptiness of this life I lead? I mean, yes, right now my days are fuller, what with going to the ED clinic two days of the week (soon to be three, if I get into emotions group), and doing therapy, and seeing my social worker, and now seeing this career counsellor person... but that won't continue forever. Eventually all of it will stop, and after it does I'm going to have to find something to do. I can't really spend all day every day on my computer or watching TV, can I? You know? Not to mention that doing this will certainly not give me any motivation to recover, since I will feel that my life is completely useless, and will therefore want to act out on ED symptoms even more.

I guess I just want some guarantee that SOME of my time will be spent doing something useful or productive in the longer term. Especially because if things keep going the way they are going, I don't know how long they will actually keep me at this clinic. I am feeling very little motivation to change my behaviors at this point, and if I don't they will kick me out eventually. Yet part of me doesn't want that, either... knows that this is kind of a do-it-or-fall situation, and I don't want to completely fall. Yet I seem to be willing to tolerate a lot more ED-wise the last few weeks. Is ANY breaking point ever going to be enough for me? Am I just getting complacent? Do I need someone to kick me solidly in the ass before I'll do shit? Why am I not motivated anymore? How am I coming to any level of comfort with restricting and b/ping, when it felt like torture before? I guess I don't... really get it. I shouldn't be able to be any significant level of okay when restricting, one would think, and yet, somehow, I am.

Strange phases.


February 18th, 2010

There's really only one thing to say, and that is: My life is becoming a bulimic nightmare. All I seem to want to do is binge. I'm doing my best to eat more during the day, and keep it in, but no matter how much I eat I just want to binge binge binge. I cannot stop myself from binging.

Fuck my life.


March 5th, 2010

I can't really write lately. I don't know why. I don't write anywhere. This [forum] would be the first place if I was going to. I just... don't write.

I'm eating. I'm fat. Last time I saw a scale was at my friend's, at night, fully food-loaded and wearing clothes; the scale said 119. It was a crappy analog scale, so who knows how accurate it was, but still. It's a good thing my true weight was 115 or less, because 119 is FAR TOO HIGH. I was 52kg at the dietician's office a few weeks ago, with some food weight and clothes, which means I've gained anyway, which I knew. I've gained because I'm a fucking fatass. Which, again, I already knew.

I'm still fucking eating and whatever, and I'm not b/ping as much, so I'm fine, right? I'm fine. And I don't deserve the ED clinic's attention... not that I think I need it most of the time. The dietician after this week only wants to see me once every second week, because I am eating the meal plan, or at least some approximation of it (sometimes I'm fatter and eat different grosser things, or more than the plan; rarely, I skip exchanges, but usually make up for it calorie-wise later in the day), so what else can she do for me I suppose. Not that I particularly want to go every week; but the fact that I don't need to just means I'm willing to eat, and be this weight, which means I'm fat.

I wish eating and being the weight that I am didn't make me fat, but it does. All I want to do is lose the weight, but I know that way misery lies. Yet I don't seem to be much less miserable, ED-wise, maintaining. Yet I can live life more fully when I eat. Yet that same life often scares me so much.

Mind fucks.


Maybe I'll do a more recent update sometime later. I've been meaning to, anyway.