I am so fucking tired of maintaining and trying really hard when nobody else in my life seems to be.

And I am jealous that my real life treatment friends "get" to keep their EDs, and even though I was the one who left recovery early, I am eating more and maintaining (aka, staying FAT) more than they are.

I HATE being the inferior one!!!

My abdomen feels like my intestines are packed full to the fucking BRIM. As a result, I decided out of desperation to take four stimulant laxative pills -- three Ex-lax, and a fourth pill called Prodiem. I checked the Prodiem and Ex-lax labels, though, and they both have the same medicinal ingredient, in exactly the same dosage (sennosides USP, 15mg per pill).

I don't care about the calories right now. I just care about getting this bulk out of my system, ASAP. Laxatives can do that much, at least.

I am so, so fucking gross.

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125.8 lbs. I haven't seen a number in the 125s since I got home -- it's usually in the 127s.

I shouldn't feel so triumphant about that.

I have decided that there are better, more immediate, and more effective ways to kill myself than by spending months restricting and slowly losing weight. Therefore, I have decided to try and give up restriction. It's not nearly as easy as I make it sound in writing that -- I still get urges to restrict, although they are less frequent -- but I WILL do it.

But the other side of it... binging and purging... I don't know if I can give that up. In fact, I'd say I probably cannot. See, at this point, I have NO coping mechanisms if I don't have that. And I do pretty much mean self-destructive coping mechanisms... unfortunately, the constructive ones don't work even half as well. Binging and purging seems to soothe my anxiety and/or get rid of dysphoric feelings, if only for a few hours or half a day or a day, or whatever. I mean, obviously I know it's temporary relief, but which would you prefer: temporary relief, or no relief at all? Yeah, I thought so.

I just need something. And all I can really say is -- at least it's not restriction anymore. B/ping is just going to have to be enough for me to get by day-to-day, that's all. At least until I get some proper help... if I ever do get proper help. It remains to be seen whether this next therapist will work out. But hopefully I will see somewhat soon; and in the meantime, I can do something to try and fill up my time a little more, like work. Which I also need to do if I ever hope to get the money to go back to university in the fall -- but that's another story for another time.

So... fucking... tired.

Maybe I won't even stay up for supper. Not that I even remotely feel like eating. I've eaten enough fucking food for today. Stuffed myself like the pig that I am. Purged a couple of times, because I felt nauseous the first time and just plain guilty the second time, but that doesn't make up for the fact that I ate a pretty big breakfast AND a pretty big lunch (some of the lunch came up, but I doubt it was even half of what I ate -- too late for that). Homewood would have called them normal meals, but nobody reading this would, because they were huge. Monstrously fucking HUGE.

I am starting to see clearer and clearer that there is no way I'm ever going to be able to stop this. But most of the time I don't even want to.

Arghy blarghy.

I'd betta stay awake today, yo! I'm planning to get the bus out to the mall later on today... probably after lunch... and poke around the mall some, and probably walk to Chapters/Starbucks, and possibly other nearby stores. It will be fun -- so long as I can remain, y'know, conscious and all. Cross yer pinky fingers for me, land lubbers! XD

(PS: Did I mention I got zero hours of sleep last night? That's right. BRING ON THE CAFFEINE, BITCHEZ!!1one)

Yesterday I was back to full-out restricting. Today I want to eat normally. WHAT THE FUCK is going ON in my fucking HEAD!? I'm so fucking confused! Why can't I just recover, or not recover? Why do I have to keep swinging back and forth like this?

I just saw a commercial for Subway -- apparently they have new, healthier sides now. I saw fresh fruit, and I think some sort of juice box. I couldn't help thinking, "Oh, wow, awesome!" But what pisses me off is that I don't know if this is just me wanting to be more nutritious, or my ED feeling pleased because it doesn't have to feel guilty while eating a bag of baked Lays (which doesn't even have THAT many cals, and has 10 less than the low-fat brownie I wouldn't have felt so bad about eating).

I fucking hate this shit. Tell it to go away and leave me alone, so I can exercise, get more toned and less flabby, and eat enough -- not too much and not too little. So I can be happier, instead of always torturing myself somehow. Oh, but wait, I was never all that happy, and I've been self-torturing since I was about 15. But I could stop that -- I could be happy. Couldn't I? Couldn't I???

*brain explodes*

And these are the things that I am:

Fat as a whale. Fat as a hippo. Stuffed as a Thanksgiving turkey. Puffy and rotund as a sausage. Round as a pig. Etc etc etc.

You get the idea.

Why do I hate myself so fucking much?

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Weighed in at 126 today -- which is actually really good, because for the last several days I've been weighing in in the late 120s, and even had a 130-point-something day. I'm pretty sure the scale was higher because I stopped taking my Remeron. Even in the hospital I noticed that Remeron really dehydrated me for the first several days that I was taking it, so the fact that I've been edemic for several days since coming off it really shouldn't surprise me. However, I think my body's water contents are starting to balance again now, so I'm returning to the weight I was before I started retaining water: around 125-126.

I know that such a weight, given my height, build, and the fact that I am a fully developed adult woman now, is perfectly normal. It's even, god forbid, a decent weight for me to stay at. It's really too bad that my eating disorder doesn't agree. All it knows is that my pants are a lot tighter now -- my tighter sweaters show newly rounded love handles -- I jiggle, to the point of pain, when I jog or otherwise jump or run around during exercise. It's just ridiculous. And my brain just keeps telling me I have to get rid of it. "Why did you let them make you fat? God. Now you have to 'diet' again to get rid of it." Because it prefers the word diet. Restriction seems like a death sentence, but 'diet' seems like a simple weight loss technique. Because that's what I keep thinking of it as. "Well, all I want to do is lose weight. That's not really an eating disorder, is it?"

Fooling myself. I know. But it doesn't even feel like fooling -- because I really do want to lose the "extra" weight. And I know I can, because I've done it before. I even know how, to the point that restricting is almost an instinctive thing. I know the foods I "shouldn't" have; I know the calories, at least generally, in pretty much anything I would be willing to regularly consume and get the calories from. I know how it's done. I know.

So, my mind says, why should you bother trying to fight that? You don't want to stay FAT, do you? You don't want to have to keep buying bigger sizes you don't even plan to have fit you in a few months, do you? You don't want to be a fattie with no control, do you? DO you?

And then my mind says back: "Well, no, no I don't."

And I don't even WANT to fight that. Because it seems perfectly normal to me. I mean, who actually wants to be fat?

Fifteen pounds. Gotta lose 15 lbs. Maybe more after; but 15 lbs minimum. Gotta be back to 110 again.

Yeah, I know I'm pathetic. You don't have to tell me.

So how would y'all feel about another about-face? Lol. But yeah... I woke up with a new determination to restrict, including a plan to do it differently so that it works better. Meaning that I won't wait a million hours before I eat anything at all. When I do that I set myself up for bingey sort of eating, and I don't want to do that.

I am so... god, I don't even know what. Confucked. Which would be a combination of confused and fucked. And extreme. Was I really like this before -- everything flipping back and forth from one thing to the other, with no spectrum in between? Restriction, or eating anything I take it into my head to eat? How bloody annoying.

Well, we'll see what happens in coming days. Clearly I am as changeable as the wind, so don't expect me to remain in one mindset for any length of time! Haha. Oooops. :P

Some things I have slowly come to realize about my eating disorder since I've been home:

1. Having one was not only a way to stuff down my feelings, but a major inconvenience to any possible plans I could have for my life. I, at least, cannot get good grades in school and not eat, all at the same time.
2. I will never learn to deal with the shit that holds me down if I keep running to restriction like it will solve all my problems.
3. Restriction has never solved any of my problems.
     In fact, I think restriction created more problems than it actually solved.
4. Life wasn't very fun when I was constantly anxious and obsessed about food, and missing fun things simply because I couldn't be around the food.
5. My eating disorder was like an experimental garment.
6. I am OUT OF THAT GARMENT now, as much as I think I ever can be post-treatment, because if I go back into it again it will possess my brain that much more the next time, and be way more difficult to let go of.
7. If I ever intend to do anything worthwhile with my life, it's going to have to be without the eating disorder, because when I had the eating disorder I was totally incapable of doing anything, including school.
8. I have all my older coping mechanisms to fall back on, anyway. I can eat and still be able to be just as self-destructive as I ever was. That may seem like small comfort; but the eating disorder was never my primary coping mechanism, so if I do give it up once and for all, I will have other mechanisms.
9. Nobody who has an eating disorder, when it comes down to it, actually has any fun having an eating disorder. People with serious eating disorders are afraid of gaining even a fraction of a pound; they are afraid of food; they are afraid of the power that food has over them. They live their lives in constant anxiety. What kind of a life is that REALLY? The only thing anybody gets out of it is thinness, and some don't even get that. It's pretty miserable when you really look at it.
10. I think I needed to gain back weight in the program I was in, and get out of the semi-starvation state there, but I honestly think I can take the rest from here, if I do something instead of starve myself to deal with my emotions.

... yeeeah.

So I decided to fuck up the fast for one piece of apple pie...

... and then my mother has the fucking GALL to comment, as she watched me eating it, "THAT's not a very healthy supper, now, is it??"

I was so pissed that I almost threw the fucking pie back in her FACE. I DID throw what remained of it right into the garbage can.

I'm not even mad that I ate. Frankly, I don't even care. I am just so ANGRY that when I finally did decide to eat something, all I get is a fucking comment about how UNHEALTHY it is... not that it's any of her fucking business whether what I eat is healthy or not!

God, I fucking hate her sometimes!!