My friend has to go to the hospital under the eating disorders protocol of the general psych unit tomorrow. I'm upset... but, more than that, I'm actually jealous. It's sad that I want to be sick enough for someone to pay attention to me like that... but I do. I really do. And it really makes me want to go back to doing all that ED shit, to get the attention... or something... argh.

That, and I really am worried about my friend, too.

But mostly jealous.

I have a stupid, fucked-up brain.

Everything I thought I was good at -- I no longer do. I no longer can do most of them, so it seems.

Someone told me, after commenting about my singing on a video site, that I was put on this earth for a reason.
All I could think was that if I've been put here to share my musical talents, I'm obviously not doing that, so I'm clearly a waste of life and space and clearly have no reason for existing now that I'm not sharing my "talents".

What the fuck in this world is worth living for?
I have no idea anymore.

Sometimes I think it would be worth living if I could write critically acclaimed poems or novels.
If I could sing critically acclaimed classical or folk music.
If I could become a critically acclaimed scholar.
If I could do ANY fucking thing that was appreciated in the intellectual community.

But I am pretty sure I never can.
So I am a waste of life and space and I will never do anything good with my life. I will never do anything right.

I wasn't in the top 10 of my high school class.
I never had my poetry formally published.
I never sang provincially or nationally or internationally -- not even with chamber choir. I couldn't even get my fucking head straight for long enough to compete with them.

I am a fucking failure.

And don't even bother commenting about how my thinking is warped, etc. I don't want to fucking hear your criticisms. I'm so SICK of people letting me know how I'm not good enough. I FUCKING GET IT, OKAY? So shut your fucking mouths before your vocal cords have a chance to start vibrating, okay? Just shut your goddamned condemning mouths.

So, pending references (and I'm like 95% positive my references will be good), I am going to be the newest employee of A&W! I'm happy about it now, but I know there's a decent chance that later on I won't be. Oh well. Might as well be happy while it lasts! Haha. At least I'll be making some money, anyway... and for the first couple of months I might actually have a little extra to spend. Woah. Weeeeird thought.

The assistant manager wants me to come in on Monday at 2 PM to do orientation before I go away, and then when I come back I'll be starting training. She said I'll start work on July 16th, which would be the Monday after I get back from Florida (I get back really early in the morning on the 13th). I'll be working on the cash, as I expected. Someone once told me that up there they tend to hire girls to do cash and guys to cook, although I also know they made an exception for my male friend a couple years back, so maybe they do that every now and then. I don't really care either way, if I'm being honest. Lol.

I guess this is the start of me being useful, or something. Which I suppose is good. It's about time something got moving around here.

(PS: This may or may not interfere with the whole therapy thing, at least for a little while... but we'll see what happens when I get back. I mean, I'm sure I can eventually shift my schedule around to have different days off, so I am off during at least one weekday, but I'm not sure I can do that while I'm still training. Ah well. I will deal somehow...)

I feel really silly because I just emailed two of my high school teachers asking for a reference. Maybe I should have emailed a university prof or two... oh well. I suppose I could still email my old voice prof. Hmmmmm. Actually, yes, I think I will do that! I mean, the worst she can say is no, right?

My interview for A&W is at 3 PM, so... six hours and counting. Ho hum.

Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

Why is it that you never show your emotions? Why did you teach me through your actions that emotions were unacceptable to express? Why did you stop hugging me just because, AS A TODDLER, I didn't SEEM to want to be hugged as much? Didn't you think I had emotional needs? In fact, have you ever fucking cared about my emotional needs?

Half the time I think you don't really love ME... just some image you seem to have of what I am. And you still don't spontaneously hug me, or understand why when you verbally ask to hug me I refuse. If you really MEANT it you wouldn't have to ask to do it... you'd just do it! And if I'd actually been raised with hugs in the first place, I'd be used to it.

You made a royal fucking mess, and you'll never, ever admit it. You think you did everything right. And that's what gets me most of all. Because I'm sure that, if you actually loved me, you'd acknowledge your part in my downfall. Only you never did, and you won't, and never ever will, because you don't love me enough to go through a little emotional pain for my sake. You won't endure living with the fact that you fucked up if it means I would get better. No -- you live only for yourself. Your children's welfare doesn't really matter to you, unless it upsets you somehow. If I upset you, you'll do ANYthing to recify things -- but the second I stop making you feel unpleasant things, you wander off and pay no attention to me at all.

See, I'm pretty sure half the reason I do this shit is to get you to pay attention. To get you to care. Because when I don't have a disorder of some kind, you don't care about me at all. And I am so pathetically miserable and lonely that I'd hurt myself terribly, or even come close to death, just to feel like somebody gives a shit.

I wish you were capable of caring about me. But you aren't, and you'll never be. And that absolutely fucking kills me inside.

I wish I'd ever had a real mommy.

"I'm tired o' livin', and scared o' dyin' "

Maybe some people just aren't meant to be happy.

And maybe I'm one of them.

5'3.5", 128 lbs, and Fat.

I'm 5'3.5", 128 lbs, and massively, grotesquely FAT.

The ideal weight for my height is supposed to be something like 115-120 lbs. So already I'm at LEAST 8-10 lbs over ideal.

There's also the fact that, as I've discovered over the last couple of days, I can't exercise for shit. I'm disgustingly unfit. I wouldn't even mind being this weight if most of it was actually muscle weight -- but it's not.

I am covered with an abundant layer of fat from head to toe. I gained a coating of it at Homewood, and I continue to live with it stuck to me every day, a gathering of slimy yellow bundles beneath my skin, pulsating, taking up unnecessary room. The soft feel of chubbiness, obesity, available to experience with every touch, every brushing of fingertips against my pale pillowy skin.

I want to be thin, and trim. But I don't have the discipline to achieve it without an eating disorder, and the idea of going back to severe restriction scares me, so I'm never ever going to be able to change this. I'm going to be stuck as a fat, verging-on-overweight blob for the rest of my goddamned life.

I am a 5'3.5", 128-pound monster.

The familiar plea

Right now I hate myself, and I hate my life, and I don't know why I bother to continue to live it.

I don't think my therapist is going to be able to get at the root of my issues, because she's just not focused and driven enough. She's content to talk about only what I offer up in a session... and that is NOT the way my first therapist worked. I don't know why the fuck therapists assume that just because you're coming voluntarily you will tell them exactly what you need from them and then expect them to do it. It's the most fucking stupid thing I ever heard of. I mean, you don't go in to your doctor and tell them your diagnosis and what medication they should give you, at what dosage, and for how long, and then use them only to write the script!!! Why the fuck should therapy have to be you coming in and telling them what mode of therapy you want because you want to cover this checklist of issues, and then them following your checklist? THAT'S NOT THE WAY IT FUCKING WORKS. I AM NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THE FUCKING PROFESSIONAL HERE AND I'M SICK OF FEELING LIKE I COULD DO THESE PEOPLE'S JOBS BETTER THAN THEY CAN.

And I feel like if I can't get the therapy I need -- if I can never again find a therapist who is like my first one, who did a very introspective sort of therapy in which she slowly but firmly began to drag my buried emotions to the surface -- I might as well just give up on life and call the whole thing fucking quits. Because NONE of this other shit helps me, and I'm so fucking TIRED of going to therapist after therapist and having NONE of it fucking HELP ME!!!!

What the hell should I do????

Here's an update. Point form. That's easier.

~ I haven't purged since June 10th. So today is day #5. That's probably the longest stretch I've gone since I've been home. Mind, I've had the urge to b/p, or just purge, several times... but I haven't given in.
~ I haven't been restricting, either. In fact, I went out to eat THREE days in a row (one meal each day), and I didn't freak out too badly about it. I just watched what I ate for the rest of the day to make sure I didn't get too much.
~ I still weigh myself probably 2-3 times a week on average, to make sure I'm maintaining my weight. I'm okay with maintaining it, but I don't want to gain any. I have to know that this eating plan works to keep me normal -- no gain, no loss. If I gain anything, the idea would be to increase my exercise and reduce the amount of junk foods and other higher-calorie foods that I consume. Eat more fiber-filled, non-dense things like veggies and fruit, or lower-cal versions of things such as yogurt.
~ I still rarely drink caloric liquids, unless I'm having milk in my cereal. I still drink a lot of Diet Pepsi. I still can't bring myself to have the full-fat versions of a lot of things, especially since my mom buys light things all the time. I'm okay with that, though. I think I am still decently healthy and still making (generally) good food choices, even if Homewood staff would not approve of some of them. And, anyway, this is the real world and not the hospital, so... nyaaaa to them!
~ Have been having much more anxiety since I stopped purging/cal-counting. On the other hand, I have been feeling more, and actually enjoying some things instead of drifting around blankly and aimlessly like I had been doing. There are some compensations for everything.
~ Therapy has been... interesting. In three sessions with my new psychologist, I've done more real work than I did with my last one in 22 sessions. Slightly sad regarding the latter; a great sign regarding right now. Finally, something seems like it might work! It's about goddamned time!!!!!

Er... yeah. That's really all.

I still have a lot of work to do, but at least I've begun it.


PS: I'm 21 now. If I was American that would be a big deal... but it doesn't really feel like one to me at the moment. Maybe it'll seem like a bigger deal once I get down to Florida. :)

This will possibly make some of you angry, but I don't care.

Life is not fun when you're obsessed with how you look or how much you weigh.

All you think about is how fat you look, what size you're going to fit into today or next week or next month, if people look at you and notice that your belly sticks out a little bit, if people think you're ugly because you're fat, how people are judging you. You are basing YOUR ENTIRE BEING on what other people think of your physical form. Thinking about it, it seems so stupid, so laughable. How did I get trapped in all that bullshit? How did I start thinking that my worth actually WAS determined by what I look like on the outside?

The outside? Pah! How did anyone change the world with how they look on the OUTside? Do you think Albert Einstein worried much about whether he had a pot belly? Do you think Isaac Newton cared if he weighed 5 or 10 or 15 extra pounds? Do you think Charlotte Bronte imagined herself useless and unworthy if her dresses were a little bigger this year than last year?

This obsession with pounds and body fat percentage and low-fat this and Atkins that and Calorie Restriction this and skinny celebs that... it's all so recent, and yet we act like it's the Ultimate Truth Of Life and always has been. 100 years ago, people would have laughed in your face if you suggested that being thin was sexy or desireable. 100 years ago, being larger was actually MORE ideal than being thin. And why is it, exactly, that that attitude is so obviously wrong and our own is so obviously RIGHT? I'll tell you why... the truth is, there ISN'T any reason, because truth is subjective, much as people like to claim that their ways are the ONLY ways. (They're not.)

I'll tell you a little something else. I think most of the reason for the fat backlash in the first place is because of obesity. However, people with EDNOS and bulimia are, for the most part, not obese, and people with anorexia certainly aren't. And if we are not at medical risk because of our weights... and most of us are not... the idea should be to maintain HEALTH.

I'm so sick of buying into this cultural propaganda that thinner is better. It's NOT. HEALTHY is better. Thinner does not necessarily equal healthier, especially not when one is in shape and happy and eating properly and being active. Sometimes you can't even do that stuff when you're skinnier, because you're lethargic and cold and don't want to move and feel absolutely fucking miserable. So HOW the fuck is thinner better??

I just can't do the superficial thing anymore. I can't. It's killing me inside, and once was close to killing me outside, too. I want to be happy and fulfilled and connected, and I want to do what I used to do, and I want to actually enjoy my life. And not a single damned one of those things involve rigidly controlling my weight.

I am THROUGH with giving in to this BULLSHIT!!!!! My value is NOT determined by a number on a piece of metal and plastic!! My worth is NOT determined by how much fat I have on my body, or how much I eat or don't eat!! I am a living, breathing, THINKING human being, and I refuse to let myself be subjected to this SHIT any longer!!!!

You can all be miserable if you want to... try to fit some cultural ideal based on the belief that maybe someday adjusting all the stuff on the outside will fix the problems on the inside. It won't -- but you can try to kid yourself if you feel like it. I, however, don't. I'm done. I'm motherfucking DONE.

I crave difference. I crave change. I always need things to be evolving -- moving somewhere, somehow. It never seems to matter much to me whether this movement and shifting goes in self-destructive directions or in positive directions... it just needs to go. I always need to feel as though I'm accomplishing something, which is another big piece of this. When I was losing weight, I was accomplishing something. When I was in and out of hospitals because I ODed every few weeks, things were always changing, not to mention that I was distracted for a little while. When I was in school, before all this shit began, I was accomplishing something.

I'm trying to think of it like this, in the hopes that it will help me:
~ Think of the next few weeks as a vacation -- time for yourself, to do whatever the hell you want.
~ Then comes the two weeks on your trip, which will hopefully be very very FUN and relaxing and good times.
~ Then... the real work begins. Put out resumes, go to any interviews you're asked to, and enjoy the time off that you have left before you begin a fulltime job.
~ Do the fulltime thing until the end of December, by which time you'll have enough money saved to pay to start school again in January. Obviously, I'd keep working part-time, so I'd have some money, and I'd probably do... four courses? And then maybe one or two during Intercession, if I need to do that.

So, see? You have a plan. You want to go back to school. You want to learn things and eventually get a better-paying job and be more financially well-off and more successful. Until then, taking the days as they come, and enjoying things, will be the aim of the game. You can do this. You CAN do this. You know you can. You really want to, and really need to, and so you CAN.

This is the sort of thing I usually have to tell myself quite often, otherwise I get really down in the dumps and despairing. But it's not even like I'm lying to myself. It's all true. it IS true. If I did it before, I can do it again.

Breathe in, out. Take some baby steps. Try to enjoy things. You are okay. You will be okay. Things will work out. Your life will be okay.

I am having an absolutely motherfucking HORRIBLE day today, and I have no fucking idea what to do about it. I feel like I'm on the verge of extremely stressed-out tears here. I do know one thing I'm going to do in the future, though: NOT take four caffeine pills at once. I'm like 99% positive that the caffeine pills were what caused this today. However, there's nothing I can do now except to wait it out... unless there's possibly something I can eat/drink/take to minimize or erase the effects of caffeine? I kinda doubt that, though...

MOTHERFUCKING FUCK FUCK. :@ :@

The "Do I Need Therapy" Test (taken from Psychology Today)

First of all... here is the test.

I've done this test about a billion times before, but, in my opinion, this is probably the most accurately I've ever answered it, so this is probably the most valid score. At least, it seemed to ring pretty true to me when I read it. I thought I'd post the answers for y'all to see, if you're interested... and if you're not, well, I am. :P


Although your scores were generally quite good, you scored well outside the normal range in at least one category. This suggests that you should probably consult with a mental health professional for further testing or treatment. There is most certainly a professional out there who can help improve the symptoms you are experiencing.

The following are the areas of concern detected by the screening:

• Your symptoms point to Major Depressive Disorder.


• You appear to be suffering from Bulimia.


• Your responses strongly indicate that you suffer from Borderline Personality Disorder.

The test also detected symptoms of one or more disorders that did not meet all the criteria, but that may still merit treatment.

The following are the areas of concern detected by the screening:

• You experience some symptoms of substance dependence. (only because I said that I binge drink when I drink, which is true.)


• You have experienced symptoms of a manic episode.


• Although you meet the criteria for the frequency of symptoms, your symptoms do not appear to be severe enough to meet the criteria for Bipolar disorder.


• You meet the criteria for the frequency of symptoms of Rapid Cycling Bipolar Disorder, but your symptoms do not appear to be severe enough to meet the criteria.


• You experience some symptoms of Simple Phobia.


• You experience some symptoms of Generalized Anxiety Disorder.


• You appear to suffer from some symptoms of Dependent Personality disorder.

Yeah, that all sounds like me.

Four Aldactone. Not for any good reason -- just because I felt like self-harming somehow, and I thought of the Aldactone all at once, and impulsively grabbed four of them and gulped them down with some Diet Pepsi. All it'll do is flush some water out -- the prescription was originally for two pills twice a day anyhow, so it's not like the dosage will hurt me in any way. (The original prescription was to help with the symptoms of my PCOS, but I never use them for that now.)

Yeah. I motherfucking suck. You don't have to tell me.

Since yesterday I've been eating... well, too little. Yesterday I had 550 cals, not including my b/p (which may or may not have left some cals behind, but if it did it was no more than 200-250 extra), and so far today I've had 340, and am scared to have more anytime soon. I AM doing vaguely better with it today in terms of my mental state, but not much. Oh, yeah, and yesterday I went for a brisk walk around the ponds near my house, and also walked to the grocery store and back for Diet Pepsi.

It's funny... for awhile I was pretty surely convinced that as long as I still had bulimia, I could give up restriction and be okay with it. But now I'm not so sure about that anymore. Ever since I lost 3-4 lbs, and then gained back 1-1.5 of them, I've had this terror of gaining more weight and getting fatter, and I want to make ABSOLUTELY 100% SURE that I will NOT gain any more weight. More specifically, I don't really want to be above the 127s (I was 127.4 yesterday and 127.6 today), and I could not handle it if I somehow made it to 130 lbs.

Fuck. Just when I thought I was going to be able to give up this restriction business for good, and eat intuitively, and all that shit... this happens. I mean, it's not like I gained a lot of weight in a short space of time recently, and I never even lost those three or four pounds very quickly (I lost about a pound per week), so I don't understand why I'm all of a sudden starting to freak out about it again. I am terrified that I'll gain 2 or 3 or 4 pounds and I'll suddenly stop being able to fit into my clothes the same way and I'll be a hideous disgusting blob and everyone will look at me and know I'm gaining weight and think I'm a fat pig who eats too much and doesn't take care of herself and isn't even remotely socially acceptable. FUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!

Somebody help me... ???

:(