I am so motherfucking fat.
Also depressed.
I don't even have the energy to write anything else tonight.
I am so sick of my fucking life.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Reading over some of my oldest entries is... enlightening and horrifying all at once. I did that to myself? I did that, without having a fucking clue what I was getting myself into? I did that, unknowingly digging myself into the one of the deepest holes I've ever made for myself? It is shocking to me to watch myself visibly, unashamedly, purposefully drive myself into starvation.
I mean, maybe it's a good thing that it does horrify me now to read all that old shit. Maybe it means that in the restriction sense, at least, I am a lot further on in recovery than I sometimes think I am. (Bulimia is another issue altogether, but that's okay :|.) I wish I believed that more sometimes.
But a very small part of me... wishes I still had that. That utter certainty that what I was doing was right. The very real, very significant sense that by restricting I was joining a large community that would accept me for me, and would support and encourage me when I needed it. The knowledge that I was not alone anymore. My craving for intimacy, fulfilled in a remote, virtual way, but fulfilled nonetheless.
I just keep on hoping and hoping that someday there will be a time when all of this changes for the better. Hoping is all I can do right now, as I wait for my life to come out of stasis and finally start having some real meaning again.
I mean, maybe it's a good thing that it does horrify me now to read all that old shit. Maybe it means that in the restriction sense, at least, I am a lot further on in recovery than I sometimes think I am. (Bulimia is another issue altogether, but that's okay :|.) I wish I believed that more sometimes.
But a very small part of me... wishes I still had that. That utter certainty that what I was doing was right. The very real, very significant sense that by restricting I was joining a large community that would accept me for me, and would support and encourage me when I needed it. The knowledge that I was not alone anymore. My craving for intimacy, fulfilled in a remote, virtual way, but fulfilled nonetheless.
I just keep on hoping and hoping that someday there will be a time when all of this changes for the better. Hoping is all I can do right now, as I wait for my life to come out of stasis and finally start having some real meaning again.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
If you've come here from The Bunnell Farms, please read this.
I understand that there is a person linking to my blog on his/her site, saying that I and my story are a prime example of carb addiction.
Let me make myself clear. This is a load of BULLSHIT.
I have an eating disorder. This is not merely about some physiological addiction to carbohydrates. My bulimia does not require my binges to be carbs... it can be fat, or protein, or anything else edible for that matter.
Eating disorders are also emotional and social disorders... not just biological, as this person seems to think. Entirely ceasing my carbohydrate intake won't make my emotional issues go away. Frankly, the presumption that no carbohydrates would somehow magically equal no disorder is presumptuous, insulting, and belittling. It is completely invalidating my years of suffering (from various disorders, mind you -- the problems haven't just resulted in an eating disorder), and I am extremely offended by this.
Please go somewhere else to find so-called "proof" for your theories. I refuse to be used as your scapegoat. Arsehole.
Let me make myself clear. This is a load of BULLSHIT.
I have an eating disorder. This is not merely about some physiological addiction to carbohydrates. My bulimia does not require my binges to be carbs... it can be fat, or protein, or anything else edible for that matter.
Eating disorders are also emotional and social disorders... not just biological, as this person seems to think. Entirely ceasing my carbohydrate intake won't make my emotional issues go away. Frankly, the presumption that no carbohydrates would somehow magically equal no disorder is presumptuous, insulting, and belittling. It is completely invalidating my years of suffering (from various disorders, mind you -- the problems haven't just resulted in an eating disorder), and I am extremely offended by this.
Please go somewhere else to find so-called "proof" for your theories. I refuse to be used as your scapegoat. Arsehole.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
I've been trying the whole normal eating thing lately -- three balanced meals, plus a snack or two if I need it (usually one at night, and maybe a little tidbit in the afternoon) -- and it's been going surprisingly well. Only problem is that now that I'm finally, actually 100% dedicating myself to REALLY trying to eat normally, I'm getting urges to do other things. More specifically, I keep thinking about cutting, and wanting to go back to cutting, and blah blah blah.
STFU, YOU STUPID BRAIN.
The second I get rid of one bad coping mechanism, you want me to just jump to the next one? Because I'm so fucking pathetic that I can't handle any normal emotions without destroying myself?
Well, guess what. FUCK YOU.
I'm sick of giving into you. I'm sick of causing myself continual pain. I'm sick of listening to you for so long that half the time I just give in to make you stop flooding me with anxiety and depression and fear.
SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.
I don't want you anymore, so just GO THE FUCK AWAY ALREADY, YOU ASSHOLE.
STFU, YOU STUPID BRAIN.
The second I get rid of one bad coping mechanism, you want me to just jump to the next one? Because I'm so fucking pathetic that I can't handle any normal emotions without destroying myself?
Well, guess what. FUCK YOU.
I'm sick of giving into you. I'm sick of causing myself continual pain. I'm sick of listening to you for so long that half the time I just give in to make you stop flooding me with anxiety and depression and fear.
SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.
I don't want you anymore, so just GO THE FUCK AWAY ALREADY, YOU ASSHOLE.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Trying to be stronger than bulimia
Last night... I got rid of everything that remained of my binge food. Which was just a really big pack of vanilla and chocolate cookies, and the rest of my molasses Halloween candies, but it was still more than enough to count. I felt too guilty to waste all that stuff, so I put it upstairs on the counter instead -- hopefully some of my family will help me eat it. For I am not going to limit myself from it -- I am just not going to binge on it!
I am tired of bulimia, and right now I really just feel like kicking its motherfucking ass. If I feel guilty about what I'm eating, or am getting full / too full, I am just going to have to STOP FUCKING EATING, instead of resorting to cop-out techniques (aka purging). [Note: I am not saying purging is a cop-out for everyone... I just know that it is for me.] I am going to be responsible for what I eat, and live with the effects of it, instead of just getting rid of it and hurting my body and making myself feel like shit.
I am tired of being controlled by my impulses to overeat.
Bring on normal eating, bitchezzzz.
I am tired of bulimia, and right now I really just feel like kicking its motherfucking ass. If I feel guilty about what I'm eating, or am getting full / too full, I am just going to have to STOP FUCKING EATING, instead of resorting to cop-out techniques (aka purging). [Note: I am not saying purging is a cop-out for everyone... I just know that it is for me.] I am going to be responsible for what I eat, and live with the effects of it, instead of just getting rid of it and hurting my body and making myself feel like shit.
I am tired of being controlled by my impulses to overeat.
Bring on normal eating, bitchezzzz.
I want to lose weight.
I want to lose weight.
I want to lose weight so badly.
Why does this keep haunting me?
Sometimes I don't think it will ever go away, or ever can.
Especially since I'm clearly not underweight in any way... so what would it hurt me to lose a few pounds?
A few solitary pounds?
I mean, please.
It's not like I'm going to die if I do it or anything.
The seriousness of all of my shit is way, way overrated, you know that.
It really is.
I want to lose weight.
I want to lose weight so badly.
Why does this keep haunting me?
Sometimes I don't think it will ever go away, or ever can.
Especially since I'm clearly not underweight in any way... so what would it hurt me to lose a few pounds?
A few solitary pounds?
I mean, please.
It's not like I'm going to die if I do it or anything.
The seriousness of all of my shit is way, way overrated, you know that.
It really is.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
I had no idea that "real" (aka non-disordered) writers actually composed poetry about anorexia.
Excerpt from "The Wasting Game"
Excerpt from "The Wasting Game"
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
I need... help. I need intervention. I don't know. I just know that I need something more than what I have. And this entry is the only way I can think of to reach out right now.
Warning: What follows may be TRIGGERING.
I am sick of comfort eating, of eating and eating and eating until I am so stuffed that I feel sick -- physically, awfully sick. Not sick enough that I could vomit automatically, but sick enough that if I don't force myself to vomit, I will probably stay sick as a dog and stuffed as a pig (gotta love the animal analogies) for hours and hours on end. I am sick of the fact that I eat so much that vomiting is the ONLY way to make myself feel physically better at all.
I'm not kidding myself anymore about the motivations. It's the food I want. It's this incessant need to taste sweet things -- this practically uncontrollable urge to always be putting wonderful-tasting confections in my mouth, to have them on my lips and tongue, to chew them and swallow them and feel them go down my throat -- which is at the heart of all of this. Instead of being about the purging, like it used to be, it is about the binging. Completely and entirely. Food is like the one constant, always-on-hand comfort I have, and I abuse and exploit it, along with my body and head, seemingly incessantly these days.
When I am binging, intuitive eating gets thrown out the window. There is not even remotely enough room in my stomach to fit all the foods my mind and tongue desire. It is my mind mostly, though... I'm not kidding myself about that either. It's my brain's desires which drive the mouth's motions and which therefore fill the stomach up. It is something mental. My body is satisfied with far less, sometimes, than even normalized eating says I need. My mind, though, tells me the body needs more to survive -- and then, later, my mind tells me the mouth and tongue need more even than that, in order for me to cope. It wants to live, to prevail, instead of merely to survive. Only the mind is lying to me, and driving me further into this stupid, heinous, hideous, horrendous disorder. (Alliteration with the letter H is weird.) This is not a good way to deal, although my mind tells me it is. This is not okay, and it WILL eventually hurt me more than help me, even though my mind would claim differently on both counts.
I am at a loss about what to do. I see my psychologist on November 1st, but I don't know if she'll know what to do, either. I mean, she hasn't helped me that much before. But... I am at a loss. Seeing her is the only thing I can think of that might even remotely help. Otherwise, I have no supports whatsoever. Read: Zero supportive contacts. Not a single person I can talk to. Not a single person I can call up and spill my guts to. I've been hiding this from everybody, because I haven't thought of it is as a problem, or as even remotely worth anyone's attention. But I do not know what. To. DO. I just don't know anymore. I have no fucking idea. My head is separating me from the ground, from reality, as the result of yet another stupid purge; and I do not know how to tether myself here, or what the hell is wrong with me in the first place that I cannot find a consistent place in a healthy life.
I do not know why I feel that I must be disordered in order to be worthy of anyone's attention -- why I feel that I will fade into the background, ignored and forgotten, unless I am nursing some sort of private drama and pain. Why I feel that I am not really alive unless I harbor a deep, dark secret. Why this sort of shit is the only thing that gives any meaning whatsoever to my life. Why I so totally lack a sense of self that I will try anything that seems like it will force me to have to work my way upwards and onwards. I don't know if that last is clear, so let me try to reword it. I do not have any faith whatsoever that I would be successful in a "normal" endeavor, so instead of trying to achieve success in the real world, I instead try to achieve success in being disordered -- or, when I get sick of that, I try to achieve success in recovery from the disorder. But once I achieve people's respect and admiration in yet another "recovery", I have two choices: either do something really really awesome with my life, and continue to be a person worthy of real respect and real admiration, or do something to dig myself deeper into one or more disorders, so that when people eventually find out, they will... help me somehow? But with what?? I don't know. I don't fucking know.
The one thing I do know is that this whole spiel makes me sound like the world's biggest attention whore; but that's not what this feels like, not at all. There is something cheap and shallow and petty about the words "attention whore"; but whatever it is I am trying to make people understand is anything but shallow or petty. Whatever it is is the most essential and real and vital thing in the world to me -- if only I or anyone else could actually figure out what the fuck it is. Which nobody can... not anymore. My first therapist was the only person who even began to approach it; and we were just getting to some of the core issues, I firmly believe, when I had to go away from her forever.
Does this entry even make sense anymore?
Fuck.
Warning: What follows may be TRIGGERING.
I am sick of comfort eating, of eating and eating and eating until I am so stuffed that I feel sick -- physically, awfully sick. Not sick enough that I could vomit automatically, but sick enough that if I don't force myself to vomit, I will probably stay sick as a dog and stuffed as a pig (gotta love the animal analogies) for hours and hours on end. I am sick of the fact that I eat so much that vomiting is the ONLY way to make myself feel physically better at all.
I'm not kidding myself anymore about the motivations. It's the food I want. It's this incessant need to taste sweet things -- this practically uncontrollable urge to always be putting wonderful-tasting confections in my mouth, to have them on my lips and tongue, to chew them and swallow them and feel them go down my throat -- which is at the heart of all of this. Instead of being about the purging, like it used to be, it is about the binging. Completely and entirely. Food is like the one constant, always-on-hand comfort I have, and I abuse and exploit it, along with my body and head, seemingly incessantly these days.
When I am binging, intuitive eating gets thrown out the window. There is not even remotely enough room in my stomach to fit all the foods my mind and tongue desire. It is my mind mostly, though... I'm not kidding myself about that either. It's my brain's desires which drive the mouth's motions and which therefore fill the stomach up. It is something mental. My body is satisfied with far less, sometimes, than even normalized eating says I need. My mind, though, tells me the body needs more to survive -- and then, later, my mind tells me the mouth and tongue need more even than that, in order for me to cope. It wants to live, to prevail, instead of merely to survive. Only the mind is lying to me, and driving me further into this stupid, heinous, hideous, horrendous disorder. (Alliteration with the letter H is weird.) This is not a good way to deal, although my mind tells me it is. This is not okay, and it WILL eventually hurt me more than help me, even though my mind would claim differently on both counts.
I am at a loss about what to do. I see my psychologist on November 1st, but I don't know if she'll know what to do, either. I mean, she hasn't helped me that much before. But... I am at a loss. Seeing her is the only thing I can think of that might even remotely help. Otherwise, I have no supports whatsoever. Read: Zero supportive contacts. Not a single person I can talk to. Not a single person I can call up and spill my guts to. I've been hiding this from everybody, because I haven't thought of it is as a problem, or as even remotely worth anyone's attention. But I do not know what. To. DO. I just don't know anymore. I have no fucking idea. My head is separating me from the ground, from reality, as the result of yet another stupid purge; and I do not know how to tether myself here, or what the hell is wrong with me in the first place that I cannot find a consistent place in a healthy life.
I do not know why I feel that I must be disordered in order to be worthy of anyone's attention -- why I feel that I will fade into the background, ignored and forgotten, unless I am nursing some sort of private drama and pain. Why I feel that I am not really alive unless I harbor a deep, dark secret. Why this sort of shit is the only thing that gives any meaning whatsoever to my life. Why I so totally lack a sense of self that I will try anything that seems like it will force me to have to work my way upwards and onwards. I don't know if that last is clear, so let me try to reword it. I do not have any faith whatsoever that I would be successful in a "normal" endeavor, so instead of trying to achieve success in the real world, I instead try to achieve success in being disordered -- or, when I get sick of that, I try to achieve success in recovery from the disorder. But once I achieve people's respect and admiration in yet another "recovery", I have two choices: either do something really really awesome with my life, and continue to be a person worthy of real respect and real admiration, or do something to dig myself deeper into one or more disorders, so that when people eventually find out, they will... help me somehow? But with what?? I don't know. I don't fucking know.
The one thing I do know is that this whole spiel makes me sound like the world's biggest attention whore; but that's not what this feels like, not at all. There is something cheap and shallow and petty about the words "attention whore"; but whatever it is I am trying to make people understand is anything but shallow or petty. Whatever it is is the most essential and real and vital thing in the world to me -- if only I or anyone else could actually figure out what the fuck it is. Which nobody can... not anymore. My first therapist was the only person who even began to approach it; and we were just getting to some of the core issues, I firmly believe, when I had to go away from her forever.
Does this entry even make sense anymore?
Fuck.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
It is sad that binging and purging feels like my only form of self-control these days. I can't even restrict anymore. The thought of not being able to eat whatever I feel like shovelling into my mouth makes me crazy. I hate the fact that I've gained a couple of pounds of pure flab, and I hate the fact that my eating feels so completely horrible and chaotic -- but any, and I mean ANY, form of capping what I eat or how much I eat (including reasonable, healthy eating) feels like somebody's just snapped a steel-coiled mouse trap down on me. It is painful and unbearable, and I could scream from the suffocation and agony of it.
What the fuck do you do when your eating's like that???
What the fuck do you do when your eating's like that???
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
It is amazing to me just how much better I feel after only a day and a half of not purging. It's actually ridiculous. My random spells of lightheadedness are much improving, to the point that they are almost gone; I am never hypoglycemic; I feel better nourished, I'm (slightly) more relaxed, AND I seem to be pooping again sorta on my own! Lol.
But the most amazing effect of all is how I am now starting to feel like I actually have a life again... a life in which issues matter, people matter, debates and feelings and conversations and deep thoughts matter. I never truly realize how much I've missed things like that until they come back after some absence.
And yet, after writing all that, I STILL want to go binge and purge right now. I just had a bowl of cereal and milk that I didn't really need, and I had been thinking of a b/p anyway while I was eating it, and so now I feel a little too full and like b/ping would somehow make it all feel better. Arrrrgh! GO THE FUCK AWAY AND LEAVE ME ALONE, ED. I AM SICK OF YOU ALWAYS BEING HERE!!!
I just wish it would actually listen to me sometimes when I say that. :|
But the most amazing effect of all is how I am now starting to feel like I actually have a life again... a life in which issues matter, people matter, debates and feelings and conversations and deep thoughts matter. I never truly realize how much I've missed things like that until they come back after some absence.
And yet, after writing all that, I STILL want to go binge and purge right now. I just had a bowl of cereal and milk that I didn't really need, and I had been thinking of a b/p anyway while I was eating it, and so now I feel a little too full and like b/ping would somehow make it all feel better. Arrrrgh! GO THE FUCK AWAY AND LEAVE ME ALONE, ED. I AM SICK OF YOU ALWAYS BEING HERE!!!
I just wish it would actually listen to me sometimes when I say that. :|
Monday, October 08, 2007
I wish I didn't relate so well to this song right now.
Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me
Ouch I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,
Yeah I think that I might break
I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me
Ouch I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,
Yeah I think that I might break
I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Giving thanks, Canadian style
Okay, so this is a day early. Around here, at least, a lot of people are eating their Thanksgiving dinners today, so it almost feels like today really is Thanksgiving. No matter. I will post this anyway, because it's still true.
Today I am thankful for second chances. And third chances, and fourth chances, and all the other chances that come after that.
I am thankful for a body that, generally speaking, functions well, even when I abuse it. Thankful for a mind that usually comes through for me in the end, and is often sharper and more able than I give it credit for.
I am thankful for my ability to rebound and find my way out of rough patches and difficult situations, even when I don't think I can. Thankful for my luck in discovering certain individuals over the last couple of years who have been able to guide me when I needed it most. Thankful for my hope, because without at least a small fraction of the stuff, I would never have made it through the things that I did.
I am thankful for future opportunities, and the abilities I have been granted to seize them. I am thankful for passion, for promise, for vitality and beauty and grace, and for the privileges I have been granted in being able to observe them. And I am also thankful for the past, for hardships and wonders alike, for they have taught me much.
I hope that this time next year I will still be able to see how much I have to be thankful for.
Today I am thankful for second chances. And third chances, and fourth chances, and all the other chances that come after that.
I am thankful for a body that, generally speaking, functions well, even when I abuse it. Thankful for a mind that usually comes through for me in the end, and is often sharper and more able than I give it credit for.
I am thankful for my ability to rebound and find my way out of rough patches and difficult situations, even when I don't think I can. Thankful for my luck in discovering certain individuals over the last couple of years who have been able to guide me when I needed it most. Thankful for my hope, because without at least a small fraction of the stuff, I would never have made it through the things that I did.
I am thankful for future opportunities, and the abilities I have been granted to seize them. I am thankful for passion, for promise, for vitality and beauty and grace, and for the privileges I have been granted in being able to observe them. And I am also thankful for the past, for hardships and wonders alike, for they have taught me much.
I hope that this time next year I will still be able to see how much I have to be thankful for.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Weight talk
Today after pooping I weighed in at... 127.8!!! *PHEW!* That's still higher than I was when I started, but Fitday tells me my average weekly gain is now only 1.6 lbs instead of the six and a half it was before. Yaaaaaay!
I'm gonna try and stick with my cal limits for awhile, though, because I do not wish to gorge myself with food for awhile, not to mention that I really would like to lose the extra pound and a half if that is possible. Which, of course, we know it is :). We'll see what happens with that... but at least I'm at a tolerable weight now. I'm just afraid that it will go up again too much if I'm suddenly like STUFF FACE WITH FOOD all over again, so I won't do that. ^_^
So, in essence, I'd be totally snug as a bug in a rug right now if my paycheque had gone through the bank this morning. I'm going to have to see what's up with that when I go into work today. Speaking of which... ohshit, I've gotta go! Argh! :(. I hate work so much.
Talk to you all sometime later!
I'm gonna try and stick with my cal limits for awhile, though, because I do not wish to gorge myself with food for awhile, not to mention that I really would like to lose the extra pound and a half if that is possible. Which, of course, we know it is :). We'll see what happens with that... but at least I'm at a tolerable weight now. I'm just afraid that it will go up again too much if I'm suddenly like STUFF FACE WITH FOOD all over again, so I won't do that. ^_^
So, in essence, I'd be totally snug as a bug in a rug right now if my paycheque had gone through the bank this morning. I'm going to have to see what's up with that when I go into work today. Speaking of which... ohshit, I've gotta go! Argh! :(. I hate work so much.
Talk to you all sometime later!
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Might be triggering?
132 today. The other 0.6 was undoubtedly food weight. We will see, once certain medications take effect, how much more of it is poop weight. I haven't had a BM for at least a few days, so there has to be something.
I did manage to stay around 1000 cals yesterday, and have managed it today as well. Well, so far, anyway. I guess we'll see what happens in the next couple hours.
Here's wishing I hadn't been a bingey idiot. I wouldn't have to do this again to lose the extra weight if I'd just controlled myself a little better. *sigh*
I did manage to stay around 1000 cals yesterday, and have managed it today as well. Well, so far, anyway. I guess we'll see what happens in the next couple hours.
Here's wishing I hadn't been a bingey idiot. I wouldn't have to do this again to lose the extra weight if I'd just controlled myself a little better. *sigh*
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